#a literal tantrum. like a five year old | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ylangelegy · 29 days ago

Note

hii,

for the prompt game: seungkwan + " its not like i'm in love with you or anything"

can't wait to see what you do with it !! ♡♡♡

ⵌ non-idol!seungkwan x reader. ⵌ word count: 999 ⵌ notes: alternate universe: non-idol, childhood best friends, fake dating -ish. a, i will give you the world!!! 🫰

"You've got to be kidding me."

Alas, you've known your best friend Seungkwan long enough to know that he is, in fact, not joking. You can see the familiar set of his jaw, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It's the same expression that the brunette has sported since you were children on the playground, pulling pranks on one another.

This was yet another one of the many practical jokes he wanted to pull, except you were now an accomplice instead of the victim. "Kwan," you say. Slowly, like you're explaining something to a five year old. "I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just to make your ex jealous."

"Why nooot?" he whines. He's splayed out on your bed, half his body hanging out the mattress as he attempts to give you a pitiful, puppy dog-like gaze. "It's not like I'm in love with you or anything. I just need to show her what she's missing."

"By going out with the girl you told her not to worry about?" you ask wryly.

"Exactly! You got it!"

"I was being sarcastic."

Seungkwan lets out a drawn-out groan. He curls up further into your sheets, his expression contorted into one of childish petulance. It's difficult to believe that the man in front of you is twenty-something and not, in fact, a teenager who isn't getting his way.

"You're a terrible best friend," he accuses. "The absolute worst."

You would be more offended if you haven't received the brunt of Seungkwan's tantrums throughout the years. "I am," you say empathetically. "And that's why you're still here, bothering the hell out of me."

He gives you an exaggerated sniffle in return. "It'll literally be just for a day. You don't even have to say anything― just stand there and be your usual, pretty self."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Boo."

"This isn't flattery. It's a negotiation." A beat. He looks thoughtful, which is never a good sign for a conniving Seungkwan. "Okay― how about you just hold my hand?"

From where you are across the room― your computer chair, by your desk― you raise an eyebrow. "Hold your hand," you repeat.

It's not a particularly novel idea. Seungkwan was fairly tactile― prone to hugging you from behind, tugging you to and fro. Hand-holding was usually reserved for more serious moments, though, and so it feels like a bit of a travesty to imagine it being used in his little ploy.

"Just hold my hand," he prompts, scrambling to sit up. Your renewed interest in the idea seems to have given him a burst of misplaced hope. "You don't even have to― we won't even call you my girlfriend or anything. Just hold my hand for, like, an hour."

"An hour? You're greedy!"

"Alright, thirty minutes."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five!"

You huff out a sigh. You've never been able to deny Seungkwan, not even on your best days. "Fine. But you owe me."

You're already thinking of what you might want to cash in as the two of you roll up to your destination for the night: The dreaded high school reunion, where everyone who's anyone is gearing up to boast about their lives. Seungkwan has been single since his tumultuous relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and you can't even blame him for his petty need to prove a point.

At the door of the speakeasy, the two of you share a look.

"Ready?" he asks, holding out his hand.

With a heatless glare, you take it. Your fingers slot into the spaces between his, the same way it has a couple dozen times before this. "Twenty-five minutes," you say.

There's a hint of a smirk on your best friend's face as he pulls open the entrance for the two of you. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm already counting down in my head."

Seungkwan holds your hand as the two of you make your way to your designated table. He waves at old friends with his free hand; sometimes with your clasped hands, as if showing it off. Every so often, he'll mumble to you under his breath. Seven minutes. Thirteen minutes.

You're so caught up in the feeling of his warm palm against yours that you completely neglect one very important thing.

The dinner has started, and Seungkwan is seated at your side― your joined hands over one of his thighs― and only then do you realize. You lean in so that your mouth is by his ear, keeping your voice low amid the thrum of conversation and the faint pop music in the background. "Kwan, she's not here."

As if on instinct, Seungkwan squeezes your hand. He hums a quiet 'hm?' back, tilting his head so you can whisper a little easier.

"Your ex," you hiss. "She's not here, you idiot."

"Huh?"

Seungkwan surreptitiously glances down the table. Sure enough, the girl that had broken his heart is nowhere in sight to witness your little stunt. "Oh," he says, his tone quiet and stunned. His gaze briefly flicks to your intertwined fingers. "I didn't even notice."

Despite yourself, your heart does a little kick-flip in your chest. You clear your throat, just enough to say, "Right. Well."

"Right. I guess―" Seungkwan starts, and he makes the most half-hearted effort to disentangle from you. It's laughable.

It gives you the courage to suddenly say, "You know how you owe me?"

He pauses in the middle of pulling away. "You're cashing in already?" he inquires, that smirk from earlier making a reappearance.

"Yeah." You shift slightly, just to make sure your fingers are still snugly fit between his. With a boldness that you could applaud yourself for, you say, "I want you to hold my hand for the rest of the night, Kwan."

The smirk morphs into a smile. His fingers hold yours just a little bit tighter, because Seungkwan was never one to deny you, either. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and he makes good on that promise.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

#seungkwan x reader #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #୨ৎ game set play .ᐟ #chugging-antiseptic-dye #୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy #୨ৎ muse .ᐟ svt #( BITES HAND. BOO SEUNGKWAN I LOVE YOU SOOO BAD )

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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this.

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child.

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.”

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel.

Time flies when life is good.

“Did you get Callie’s list?”

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!”

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at.

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.”

“I like baby Moana.”

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.”

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.”

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement.

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve.

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned.

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach.

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

��—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this.

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny.

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you.

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?”

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on.

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point.

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm.

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room.

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’.

Talk about fucking alliteration.

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children.

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though.

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face.

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine.

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding.

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along.

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud.

She lived long enough.

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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starchaserwrites · 10 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic / february 18: pet / word count: 572 cw: foul language and violent behavior

James doesn't easily get annoyed, but his biggest pet peeve is people who do not say hello when they arrive at a place, so every time it's his turn to be in charge of the till at the cafe where he works, he struggles to control the twitch in his eye. When the next customer only mutters "venti iced americano, hurry" without even looking up from his phone and throws the money on the counter, he just puts on his best customer service smile and clenches his fists.

Not even five minutes have passed since the order was placed but the man in his early forties is tapping his fingers loudly on the delivery counter and alternating between staring at his watch and at James insistently. Fortunately, there aren't too many customers at this time of day, so Lily and Mary don't take too long to get the man's order ready.

"Is it too fucking hard to make a good fucking drink? I asked you for iced and this is lukewarm!" says the man in a voice loud enough to silence the café that was previously echoing with the soft conversations of customers.

Under normal circumstances James would probably have explained that all that needs to be done to make the drink colder is simply to stir it, but putting on his best smile he offers a "Oh, sorry about that. We'll redo it!" the customer is always right and that shit, right?

So when the drink is handed to him for the second time and the man literally spits the sip he took on Mary, James is ready for a confrontation.

"Are you an idiot or some kind of mentally retarded? This doesn't taste like fucking anything! You bunch of morons were dropped on your heads when you were babies. And you pair of bitches..."

Just as James is about to leap over the counter and punch this asshole, the man is pushed and cornered against the wall in the blink of an eye.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" says Regulus, one of the regulars who comes almost every day after work, shaking the man by the collar of his shirt with his ringed hands. And if James always notices how he sits at the table closest to the counter, and they constantly exchange glances it's nobody's business.

"But-"

"I don't give a shit, you've been throwing a tantrum this whole time and I won't take it anymore so get the fuck out of here this very second or I'm going to shove what's left of your coffee so deep up your ass to see if you can finally taste it." Regulus continues before pushing him against the wall one last time and letting him go.

The lovely customer starts to walk slowly towards the exit, but halfway there he turns around as if to say something.

"I promise they'll be finding your remains for the next four months if you don't walk out that door now," the silver-eyed man says before the forty-year-old can add anything else. The thing is, he says it so menacingly, like he really means it, that James feels weak in the knees.

Physical or verbal violence isn't supposed to be attractive, but this may have awakened something in James.

So please, no one judge him when a few hours later he ends up tangled in his bed from head to toe with Regulus.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #they are so silly #len writes

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paperstorm · 4 months ago

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Alright. I am gonna say this once more and never again because I am exhausted. I never said I hated the idea of them having kids. I know every time I open my mouth I get shaded and then an inbox full of moldy takes so apparently there’s a literacy epidemic around here but I never said I hated the idea of them having kids. I have said I am hopeful that it will be done in a way that is respectful of Carlos’s feelings on the topic because they are valid feelings and being a father is not something that TK, or anyone, is entitled to if their partner doesn’t feel the same way.

I am personally tired of the “person does not want kids for very valid reasons, then person learns that they were wrong and did want kids all along and they are whole now!” trope. The way this was handled in Brooklyn Nine Nine, a show I love, felt particularly icky to me, where Jake doesn’t want kids for an extremely valid reason (quite similar to Carlos’s actually) and Amy makes it immediately clear that she won’t stay married to him without children and basically berates him into it. I would love some representation at some point for people who know they don’t want kids and don’t change their minds, or even where there is a disagreement and the partner who does want kids is the one who changes their mind. The way this was handled in season four was so beautiful because Carlos’s feelings were treated as valid and understandable and TK chose him and them, not the hypothetical idea of a future family. Treating wanting to remain childless as a valid and respectable life choice is rare.

Representation is literally just diverse people existing on screens, that’s all it is. Diverse humans with diverse perspectives and experiences exist and so characters who reflect that should also exist. If Tarlos has kids, it will be good representation for queer couples who want kids. If they don’t have kids, it will be good representation for queer couples who don’t want kids. If they moved to Appalachia and took up spelunking, it would be good representation for queer couples who want to do that. Representation is not a statement on *what* the people are doing. The existence of the characters is the representation because no group has a singular experience.

It does seem likely at this point that they will get Jonah, and I am not (apparently to the disappointment of some??) throwing a tantrum over it because I’m grown. If they choose to have children, I’m sure I’ll love it because this show rarely disappoints me. If it’s done in a way that is different from how I personally would have written it, I will say “oh well” and carry on with my life because I am not five years old. None of this is that deep, and the people gloating in my inbox right now that they’re gonna get Jonah and I must be so upset about it are telling on themselves a lot more than they’re telling on me.

#911 lone star #911 lone star spoilers #I hate making posts like this so much it feels so self important!!! but I am also done lol

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rageprufrock · 4 months ago

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Superposition | The Devil Judge WIP

Just a sneak peek into the inevitable outcome of me finding out that I can write a story about a 17 year age gap.

After the fire, Yohan wakes up every morning knowing that Isaac is dead.

Elijah wakes up every morning convinced her father is alive.

It's the crush damage of new grief each day, too big for her tiny body and too heavy for her to carry. It's worse than all of Yohan's years under his father's belt; it's not until he loses Isaac and Heejin, until Elijah cries herself unconscious in his arms, that Yohan realizes that his father had been a clumsy jailer, that for all his cruelty he'd been a blunt instrument compared to all the ways suffering can visit itself upon a person.

It's a miracle Elijah is alive, surviving multiple complex fractures and then delayed treatment. They save the flesh and bone of her legs, piece her back together with literal pins and needles. Her x-rays are difficult to look at; the scarring across her ghost-pale skin is worse. She hurts, in a relentless way that is at first impossible to explain to a child, and then is so ordinary she goes quiet with it, turns it inward. She stops crying. She's too weak and immobile for her once-infamous tantrums. She goes quiet instead. She throws books, toys, anything that Yohan brings into her beautifully appointed private room to try to distract her.

"It will be hard, and it will take time," her doctors say, with an infuriating paternalism, as if their performed empathy could dampen constant burn of searing fire across Yohan's shoulders, cut into the shell of him. "But she's young and she's resilient—she'll surprise you."

For the first six months, Yohan spends his limited waking, functional hours desperately trying to hold back the flood with his bare hands. He wakes and he's in too much pain to function. He sleeps and his doctors adjust his pain management regimen. He wakes and he tries to comfort Elijah. He sleeps and he dreams about the skin grafts he's been informed are needed. He wakes and he calls Lawyer Ko. He sleeps when he knows Isaac's Social Responsibility Fund donation is canceled. He loses hours and entire days in the labyrinth of the hospital, winding between the VIP ward and the children's wing, meeting with Elijah's orthopedic surgeon, her occupational therapists, the revolving cast of nurses that transport her from procedure to scan to bedside. He arranges Isaac and Heejin's funeral, and ends up back as a patient when Elijah's meltdown at the gravesite has him tearing one of his barely healed graft sites trying to contain her flailing arms, to swallow all of her screaming pain into the bottomless well in the base of his spine.

It's eight months and six days after the fire that Yohan hears Elijah laugh again.

***

Later, he'll get a comprehensive readout from the hospital grapevine, but the day he meets Gaon for the first time, all he knows is that he's been summoned by the terrifying peds nurses because Elijah and her new friend have committed some kind of juvenile crime.

Yohan's not ignorant to the fact that Elijah is a nightmare child, but he's still a little confused about how a five year old who is—frankly—abysmal with her new wheelchair is any kind of threat to society. He fetches up at to the pediatric OT clinic fully prepared to act like a complete entitled asshole about this, because while Elijah is a monster, she's his monster and therefore completely innocent of all sin, original or otherwise.

Except halfway down the hallway there, he hears the sharp cackle of Elijah's laughter, a goblin shriek of pure wicked joy. It lands like a punch, like a blessing, it leaves him lightheaded.

When he rushes the door, it's to find Elijah in full glory, giggling so hard she can't speak. Her hair is tied up in a series of tiny ponytails that frame her face like a lion's mane, her face is covered in marker, and she's clutching a filthy orange cat to her chest.

"Kang Yohan-sshi," says one of the nurses, who is trying and failing to look severe, from the way her mouth keeps wobbling and her voice is trembling. "As you can see, we have a situation."

"I—where did she get the cat?" Yohan asks, faint.

Another nurse, who is making no effort to hide her grin, says, "Apparently, they found him behind a trash can in the garden and snuck him into the hospital."

Yohan slants his eyes toward her. "They?"

"I'm really not sure how you missed her very obvious partner in crime," the nurse tells him, actively laughing now, and when Yohan turns to look again—turns to see anything other than the miracle of Elijah's smiling face—he sort of understands her point.

Because sitting next to Elijah is a skinny teenaged boy wearing Elijah's headband, all of his short hair pushed back and sticking out like a massive frill around his thin face, his nose colored black and whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He looks less embarrassed than he probably should be, and more incriminating, he's holding some contraption made out of stolen hospital supplies that looks like one those little fishing toys for cats—a single inflated glove hanging from the end—that the fat orange on Elijah's lap keeps reaching for with outstretched paws.

Standing in the doorway, surrounded by staff and other parents who are barely containing their hysterics, the whole thing is even more batshit. Nurse Woo Yeji, the iron fist of the pediatrics ward, is looming over Elijah and the kid on the ground, hands on her hips as she booms out:

"Kang Elijah-sshi, give me that creature immediately."

Elijah narrows her bright little eyes. "Oh no," Yohan mutters.

"My cat," she declares, her chin stuck out in defiance.

"He was so sick and skinny, we had to rescue him," the boy chimes in, with the admirable application of a pair of doleful, sweet eyes. It might be more effective if his face wasn't covered in washable marker and he didn't have a purple heart drawn over his left eyebrow.

"That cat is at least 4 kilograms overweight," Nurse Yeji tells them both, unmoved. "And let me say: Kim Gaon, I thought you had better judgment than this."

The boy, Gaon, takes the comment with the ease of long familiarity with disappointment, but Yohan still sees his eyes go briefly flinty, briefly cold, before he pastes on a smile and says, "I rode my motorcycle into a wall. If you thought I had good judgement, that's your own fault."

"Yah! Kim Gaon!" the nurse yells, which just sets Elijah off again into pealing laughter.

And from the back of the room, Yohan watches the way this mouthy kid, this little punk, glances over to his niece, watches how the fake grin on his face dissolves for something softer—something run through with tenderness too old for his years.

***

Kim Gaon is 17, orphaned, and a frequent flight risk from the group home he's been remanded to with both his parents dead. In the 13 months since his father had died by suicide, and the 10 months since his mother had followed, he's been picked up by the local cops at least a half-dozen times: for smoking, for drinking, for fighting. Yohan looks up photos of Gaon's once-happy family, reads SNS posts mourning the closure of their family restaurant, the police reports about the suicides, the note in Gaon's hospital file that notes that he's going into arrears for his parents' funeral costs. Kim Gaon's social worker talks about him with a sort of resigned apology, approaches Yohan's interest like another black mark in the boy's service jacket. She looks at Yohan's suit and briefcase, takes his business card and calls him Lawyer Kang, spills the whole of Gaon's history, reassures Yohan that however self-destructive, however volatile, Kim Gaon's never displayed any violent tendencies toward children, that Lawyer Kang should feel free to reach out immediately if he feels concern that Gaon has become Elijah's friend.

"If you'd like me to speak to him, to tell him you're not comfortable with him spending time with you niece, I completely understand," his social worker says.

Kim Gaon has been treated for two different STIs and tried to kill himself with a motorcycle three months ago. The only people he has left in the world are a childhood friend from down the street and Judge Min Jeongho, who used to eat lunch at the Kim's restaurant every day.

Kim Gaon is 17 and entirely alone.

Yohan smiles at her. "No need," he reassures her. "I'll handle this on my own."

***

Too much of Kim Gaon's character reference is ultimately hearsay. Yohan doesn't trust himself, exactly, but he trusts his judgement, so he watches quietly from the sidelines, collecting data. Yohan hears all the nurses talk about how Gaon is achingly polite, how they can't understand how such a nice boy could be such an evident wild child he would ride motorcycles with reckless lack of self preservation. He watches Gaon do other peoples' homework, quizzing them on Joseon history and showing a middle schooler who's learning how to write with his left hand trigonometry. Kim Gaon plays Smash Brothers with a flock of elementary school kids and ruthlessly kicks their asses every single time.

The Kim Gaon that's considered a neighborhood menace, the one sends his teachers into a blind fury, that's the protective armor. Yohan knows from defensive adaptations.

But being a nice kid isn't the same as belonging in Elijah's life in any meaningful way, Yohan acknowledges, and spends a pointless day drafting soul-killing discovery motions and wondering why he's devoting so much time to this distraction. Maybe it's how Elijah's sleeping through the nights better, communicating her pain and what she needs better. Maybe it's how she tells stories about her friend Gaon, and it briefly feels as if they've traveled backward through time, that Yohan's watching her for the night, hearing and becoming deeply invested in all of her day care drama.

"Elijah-ah, why do you like Gaon so much?" Yohan asks her one night, midway through the intricate ritual of her bedtime routine.

From her bed, Elijah says, "Gaon is funny and cats like him and also his parents are dead, so someone has to take care of him," and without missing a beat, points her sparkling princess wand toward the closet, commanding, "Check there, too."

Yohan climbs off of the floor where he'd been checking under the bed and goes.

"Would you want to see Gaon even outside of the hospital?" he asks her, doing a careful four-point inspection of the closet: more clothes than one child could ever wear, 200 pairs of shoes, a stuffed sheep the size of a horse—no monsters. "Closet's clear."

Elijah makes a considering noise. "Gaon-oppa said he was a really good cook, so I want to eat his food," she decides, and shy now, she waves Yohan toward her, tiny hands flapping. "Samchon, come here. I want to tell you a secret."

Yohan cherishes every secret he has with Elijah. Since she was born, he's kept so many for her: that she stole a cookie, that she's really really not scared of thunder, that she loves her uncle best, that church is boring.

"I'm ready," Yohan promises, and sits at the edge of her bed with his most serious expression.

Elijah looks left and right, as if there are spies around every corner, before she cups her hands around her mouth and Yohan curls over her so that she can whisper:

"Sometimes I forget I'm sad about Mom and Dad, but Gaon-oppa says that's okay because I never forget that I love them."

It lands somewhere in Yohan's soft underbelly, in the forever ache of his scare tissue. He looks down into Elijah's solemn little face, her riverstone eyes, and he wonders what kind of benevolent God allows this—forces children to patch one another's broken hearts. He used to wish that he would have died instead, that he could trade himself for Isaac, for Heejin, but he's comforted Elijah through too many nightmares of his own death to entertain it any longer. Love's always been a chain, whether wrapped around his wrist with a cross or trapping him in his father's house.

"You will, you always will," he whispers back.

"And they love me, too, of course, in heaven," she tells him, with the haughty confidence of a spoilt only child, who'd grown up with three adults circling around her in constant adulation.

"And I love you here, on Earth," he says, and does not add, your grandfather loves you, too, from where he's burning in hell.

Elijah goes suddenly quiet, thoughtful and a little distant, and Yohan waits patiently until she says at last, "Gaon doesn't think his parents love him in heaven."

Yohan stills. "Did he say that?"

"He told his friend, the unni that visits sometimes," Elijah reports, and staring dead into Yohan's eyes, she adds, "I was hiding behind a curtain listening. He also said he can't be her boyfriend."

"Okay, well, time for little goblins to go to sleep," Yohan says, because he absolutely cannot start laughing about this because somewhere out there, in the beautiful hereafter that Isaac so fervently believed in, he would be furious if Yohan encouraged this kind of behavior.

***

For all Yohan's been investigating the mystery of Kim Gaon, he's wholly unprepared to be confronted by the reality of the boy while sitting in the hospital cafe at half past five, working his way through a stack of files for court the next day.

"Kang Yohan-sshi?" comes a voice, and when Yohan looks up, it's into the shaggy bangs and thin face of the boy who makes Elijah laugh, standing awkwardly at the edge of his table.

"Ah," he says, flipping his pen across his knuckles. "You're Kim Gaon."

Gaon's eyes round. "You recognize me?"

"The nurses tell me you're friends with Elijah," Yohan says, and waves at one of the empty chairs at the table, shuffles a few folders around to make room. "Please."

It takes more than a little maneuvering for Gaon to take the offered seat, between his backpack and his crutches, his leg still in its cast, and Yohan offers him a steadying arm, takes his bag, helps shift the table this way and that way. Gaon looks mortified the whole time by these small courtesies, stumbling over thank yous and apologies. It tells on him in ways Gaon can't possibly know, but that Yohan can't possibly ignore.

"What brings you to my temporary office?" Yohan asks, when he's sure the kid isn't going to tip over and break anything else, and is only in immediate danger of blushing to death.

Gaon squares his shoulders, and taking a deep breath, says, "I wanted to talk to you about a cat."

This is how Yohan learns that the orange furball that he's first seen that day in the OT room all those many weeks ago is a stray that's been named Gam, and that Elijah's youthful enthusiasm for petty hospital-based crime has undergone a metamorphosis toward more elaborate heists.

"Not that I don't admire her ambition, but I'm pretty sure you'd notice the yowling lump in her sweater when you pick her up from OT," Gaon says, still nervous and too polite, darting wary little glances upward at Yohan. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she started arguing about how cold it was going to get and I had to admit defeat."

Yohan feels the corners of his mouth curl up, reflexive. "There's wisdom in recognizing when you're beaten," he says. "And I appreciate your letting me know."

"Sure," Gaon says before going quiet for a long measure, some unfinished sentence still hidden behind his lashes. Yohan's patient, waits him out, and is rewarded when a half-minute passes and Gaon says, with a brittle courage and poorly concealed vulnerability, "I—I'd take him with me if I could. I like Gam. But the house where I have to stay won't allow pets."

Yohan can hear a universe in between the confession here: that Gaon must have been worried about the cold weather long before Elijah even noticed, that he'd tried to find an answer all on his own. Yohan feels, tugging in the hollow underneath his breastbone, a hurtful recognition of a younger version of himself, all those raw edges fraying, and maybe—sitting here—he can understand a little of Isaac's quiet sadness, the way Yohan had carried all his suffering alone, as a matter of course, without ever trying to ask for help.

He looks at the slope of Gaon's shoulders, the wrinkled collar of his school uniform shirt, his terrible haircut, the little divot of a piercing in his ear. Yohan thinks about the sunburst of Elijah's laughter and all the terrible things he's willing to do to sustain it; it's strange to realize he hadn't anticipated something so easy, something that wouldn't hurt at all.

"Do me a favor," Yohan sighs.

Gaon's head darts up. "Um—if I can?" he says.

"Back me up when I tell her that I thought long and hard about this, and that I'm going to be a strict taskmaster about this cat," Yohan says, with a rueful certainty that there's no way in hell that Elijah is going to buy this narrative, because it looks like the sun is rising in the brightness of Gaon's eyes, the pink happiness of his too-thin cheeks. This kid couldn't lie effectively if his life depended on it. In this light, Gaon looks a little like Isaac, if Isaac was too thin and too hopeful, all gamine pleasure; it makes Yohan feel his bones creak just to look at him.

"I will, I absolutely will," Gaon promises, smiling now and still shy, but so achingly sweet that it makes Yohan want to buy him hot chocolate, to tell him he's done a good job, to ask if he's eaten dinner.

He forebears, and starts packing up his work documents instead.

"Come on," he tells Gaon. "If I'm going to make a fool of myself trying to trap a feral hospital cat, you're coming with me."

Yohan ends up scratched to hell and back, his hand-tailored wool trousers covered in mud, while Gaon laughs at him with a wide-open happiness that makes something in Yohan's chest feel too big for his rib cage. He decides not to think about it in favor of fetching Elijah from her PT and ferrying her down to his car, where Gaon is waiting for them both, a sulking Gam zipped into the front of his hoodie like an uncooperative child. His smile could light every building in Gangnam. Elijah's shriek of pure joy when she spots him leaves Yohan half-deaf for the drive home, and so the warm patter of Elijah and Gaon talking in the backseat rolls over him in indistinct syllable noises until he drops Gaon off at his group home and helps him to the door.

"Thank you, for today," Gaon tells him, starry and still rosy, covered in cat hair.

"Elijah's already drawing up plans for shared custody, so don't be a stranger," Yohan warns.

He'd been ordered by Elijah to participate in an exchange of contact information with Gaon because everybody in the car had a unique and unaddressed relationship with the trauma of abandonment, and so of course Gam could not be suddenly bereft of one of his humans.

"I won't, I promise," Gaon swears, and nods back toward the car, where Elijah is holding Gam up against the window and waving his paw at them. "You should get her home."

Elijah talks nonstop during the drive out of the urban density of Seoul into the forested beyond where their family home is perched on a melodramatic cliff above a lake. Yohan hears about her nurses, her rivalry with another little boy in OT who sounds like he has a world-ending crush on her Gaon-oppa, and listens to the way Elijah sometimes stops mid-sentence when Gam meows at her and then replies, as if she can understand cat.

Whatever is bubbling in his veins, its too violent to be the warm kindness of joy. This ferocity feels like some holy gratitude, feels like the way Isaac used to talk about God. Yohan has never any good at faith, but he thinks—to himself, so loudly he hears it over the roar of blood in his ears and the chattering happiness of Elijah, vividly alive—he thinks, thank you, thank you, to whoever is listening: to God, to fate, to fortune, to the fucking cat—to Gaon, waving at Elijah with both hands, a smile on his face and Gam curled close against his chest.

#the devil judge #wip #fanfic

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lightwing-s · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: sometimes you couldn't help yourself from hating everything, sometimes you couldn't help bumping into people, sometimes certain stains were hard to remove

word count: 1,2k

links: next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

You hated this. The loud music. The crowded rooms. The sweaty bodies hitting against each other, devouring each other with no sense of modesty, dancing to the sound of whatever horrid electronic beat sounded from the many music boxes, scattered around the unnecessarily large house.

You hated the guys, eyeing you up and down like a meal to a starved man, undressing you in their minds and having thoughts you prayed you’d never get to hear. You hated the girls judging you with their unkind eyes. And most of all, tonight you hated your neighbor more than anyone in this entire world.

“C’mon, Yn.” She tugged at the sleeve of your jacket, trying to pull you to the dance floor along with her. “Let’s have some fun!”

“I’m fine, Nessie,” you uttered through gritted teeth. “Just do you.”

Your neighbor and, pending revision, friend rolled her eyes at you, dropping her shoulder before pulling you with her towards a corner. “You can’t let that call stop you from having fun,” she stated, boring her chocolate browns into you e/c ones.

After sighing deeply, you replied. “I’ll be fine.”

You didn’t think so, but you weren’t going to ruin your only friend’s night, even if you so wished to. She had been patient with you all the time since that damned phone call, even though if you were in her place, you’d have certainly snapped at your own stubbornness.

After much insisting, she gave up and let go of your hand to move into the crowd, going to dance or make out with anyone she could find close by. You stood still in the same corner, mopping under the blinking blue, red and purple lights, arms crossed on your chest and pushing away every guy that attempted to approach you with a single hostile glare.

One hour, then two hours had passed, your patience vanishing along with the late hours of the night. You couldn’t stand it anymore, too stressed, too pissed off, to be anywhere but home.

“Nessie!” you screamed after your friend, finding her dancing in the middle of two other people. She clearly didn’t hear you, and you had to take a deep breath before fighting your way through the warzone that was the dance floor.

Pushed from both sides, you had to literally dig your way between the waves of people throwing their sweaty bodies around, receiving one and another elbows to the face and giving some back in return.

Almost approaching your friend’s spot, she noticed you making your way towards her and proceeded to walk to you, a smile spreading on her lips.

“Yn, you came!” she joyfully declared, throwing her arms in the air in celebration, instigating her new companions to join her excitement.

“I wanna go home,” you voiced out and her face instantly fell.

“No!” was her reply. “I’m having fun,” she stood firm.

Widening your eyes and puffing your cheeks with air, you wanted to turn into a five year old just to be able to throw a tantrum and dissipate all the anger you had in yourself without looking crazy. However, you were 22, a college graduate, and thankfully too mature to do so.

“Fine!” you let out instead. “I’m going alone.”

“Go sulk into your boring ass hell hole,” Nessie insulted, clearly intoxicated, and you flipped your middle finger at her before pushing your way through the crowd once more.

Your steps were heavy, weighed down and filled to the brim with your own rage. You pushed people aside, who looked back at you in displeasure, but you were not in the mood to fake an apology to any of them. Or anyone at all. You weren’t going to see them ever again anyways.

When turning a corner, about to step into the foyer as you approach the front door, a great wall bumped into you, sending you a few steps backwards, and the group around you let out shocked gasps. His drink poured over your chest, leaving you soaked in cheap alcohol and stained in red.

“FUCK!” you screamed out, rubbing furiously at your shirt with your jacket’s sleeve, tears slowly forming on your eyes. Your anger, if possible, grew by the minute, and you both wanted to punch the idiot that had done this to you and curl down in a corner and cry.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” said the male voice, apologizing with a little bit too much excitement. Drunk, awesome. “I did not see you there.”

He was kneeling down, picking up his cup and the ice cubes that had fallen to the floor. Gross.

“Obviously,” you whispered, hoping to flee this place as quickly as possible, but the tall man crouched down stopped you from taking any step further.

“Someone is angry,” he joked while standing up, mere inches in front of you. “Would you want to go somewhere where I could calm you down a little?”

He jiggled his thick eyebrows at you, other intentions evident in his offer. Finally getting the chance to stare properly at the clumsy douche that turned your white t-shirt red, you found his bright blue eyes that annoyed you just as much as his eyebrow move did.

“Why the hell would I ever want to go anywhere with someone like you?” Eyeing him up and down, you caught a glimpse at the tattoos decorating his arms, hands and neck. He smelled and looked like trouble, the kind of guy your p… You were always warned about.

“Ooh,” he blew. “Little Miss Stuck Up is angry angry.”

“Fuck off,” you swore, trying to push him away from you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“What? Don’t think we’d make cute babies?” he teased out of nowhere, stepping aside to let you pass.

“Why would I ever want to have a baby with you?” you asked over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Why would I ever want to have my dick inside you in the first place?” he asked back, forgetting his early offer, before you both rolled your eyes and walked in different directions.

You tried to dry the stain on your shirt as you walked away, continuously rubbing your chest as you left the house and on your entire Uber ride. You tried to wash it off when you got home, but the red stain wouldn’t disappear, not in the first, second or third tries of your washing machine, and neither the ones of your desperate hands.

The stranger, whoever he was, made sure he’d leave his mark on you and that pissed you off even more, not because it was your favorite white t-shirt, not because it was new and expensive. But because it wasn’t just the stain he had left you with, as his bright blue eyes stuck to your head the entire weekend, as you sulked on your boring hell hole of an apartment.

As the weekend came to an end and the early morning sun announced the arrival of Monday, you stepped inside your regular gym. Freshly showered, headphones stuck to your ears, as you wished to relieve all your accumulated rage on every machine you could touch.

The gym was your haven, your place to find peace on stressful days and distract yourself from the world around you. You were ready to leave the place feeling refreshed and powered up for a new week of hard work and hustle.

You were gonna be fine, it was all gonna be perfect. If it wasn’t for you crashing into a large back, a water bottle splashing liquid on your face, and the same pair of blue eyes turning around and meeting yours again.

“Fuck!” you two said in unison.

This was going to be one hard stain to get rid of.

tag list: @igotanidea

if you want to be added to the tag list, leave a message down below!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd au #jason todd imagines

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year ago

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How would Vikings react to Ivar being remembered?

summary: it's in the title :)

notes: no warnings except for maybe mentions of death

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @alicedopey, @ivarlover @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 @vrtualfairy @esme-viridian (hmu to be added/removed!)

masterlist | based on this request

Ragnar

Pretends he always knew (eugh he’s such a bitch ong)

Nooo I would never set my son out in the wild… meeee? No wayyy…

He takes credit for it for his ‘great parenting’ and ‘legend genetics’

If Ivar had any legend genetics, they came from aslaug

Aslaug

Proudest mom out there, acts like a soccer/pta mom when she hears

Aslaug actually always knew

She quotes her prophetic dreams from like, 853 AD?

“I knew since I was five years old.” (truth)

Lagertha

Okay? Who cares? What about Bjorn?

Totally not pissed that he may be more famous than she is (lie)

Defo sulks about it to torvi and then kills someone important to expand her own legacy

She’s in the fame biz

Bjorn

Bro throws a toddler tantrum

He will literally stomp the ground

“That’s not fair, I discovered the Mediterranean!!” (he says that in the stupid tone he gets in the later seasons)

So so bitter about it (he deserves that)

Ubbe

Ubbe’s smoking weed in America with Floki

He does not care

“That’s just bad taste from people from the future. Me personally? I’d admire the person who found a continent. Idk, that’s just me though.”

Gets over it the fastest

Literally just thinks that it’s so dumb of modern people bc Ivar is a silly little guy with anger issues

Hvitserk

Similar reaction to Ubbe, except he doesn’t have to get over anything

Just kinda shrugs, he’s too busy worrying about his own legacy

What’s he in the history books for? His cuisine skills?

Yeah, bro’s kinda busy managing his own shit and trying to stay alive

Sigurd

Don’t tell him

For your own safety

Will kill you and then himself

Ivar

Don’t tell him either

Never lets anyone hear the end of it

So so so annoying for a silly little guy

He just loves and hates himself so much that, at the same time, he so needs to hear this and also never, ever hear this ever at all

Floki

Floki is the same as Aslaug, he KNEW

Also, he takes credit for raising ivar and being a father figure (fair enough)

He’s a teeny tiny bit sad that ivar was friends (in a weird homosexual way) with Alfred though (kind of, and this only applies if we’re talking about tv show Vikings)

Honestly, Floki would be such a good source to add to the material we have of ivar

Ecbert

So mad he didn’t have a bigger impact on ivar

Also so mad that all the kids around him have such big legacies (Alfred, ivar) but not him??

He wants to get mentioned!! Footnotes aren’t enough!! He needs to be the main character, always.

Gets sad drunk over it way too long

262 notes · View notes

batsplat · 3 months ago

Note

controversial opinion but I don’t think that in terms of rivalries and feuds marc is that interesting. like if you exclude valentino you’re left with who? dovi? they did have exciting on track battles for sure but let’s face it dovi was never really a huge title threat. and their off track relationship as a result had no tension. but who else?

qualified agreement in that, yes, I also don't think marc's slate of rivalries/feuds is all that satisfying... I just don't feel like this is entirely marc's *fault*. I mean, first off, valentino is definitely a positive outlier in this regard in that he was just working overtime in terms of coming up with compelling feuds. he's not quite the spiders georg of fantastic feuds, but he's not far off either. secondly, when compared to the other aliens + dovi... marc is at a very obvious disadvantage in that those guys were all direct peers who already had a lot of history with each other. dovi made fourteen year old jorge cry, twenty year old casey threw a temper tantrum when dani beat him, teenage jorge was judgemental of casey's fan engagement skills, and obviously there's the jorge/dani of it all. even the bits of that diagram that never had any major beef will have at least had a little bit of sizzling tension, like dovi's wariness of dani as a teammate. marc was always going to be on the back foot here - he really could have done with a pol esparagaro-type figure to crack on and become a big deal in the premier class. you need interpersonal history for a strong rivalry, and marc was always working at a deficit by having to start from scratch

this is the thing, right: imagine a world in which marc is born a few years earlier. in your hearts, do you seriously believe he would not have had a major sustained feud with at least one of jorge, dani, casey or dovi? I'm thinking he gets at least 2-3 in all honesty. casey if they ever ended up teammates is practically a given - and even without that you'd have to say it's a near certainty that it would've gone very badly. I mean good lord, casey vs the marc marquez towing addiction feels like it inevitably ends in casey physically assaulting marc on-track at least once. jorge had feuds with literally everyone, so that one also feels guaranteed. dani was a way less prickly character by the time marc got to the premier class but used to be a notoriously difficult teammate - so those two at honda and, again, odds are pretty good you get something going. dovi's a bit more marginal in that it kinda depends on what their respective competitive situations look like - plus dovi was generally more of a single issue jorge lorenzo hater - but you'd still expect it to be at least a little bit snarkier. so yeah, just a straightforward counterfactual - but it should still demonstrate that the picture is more complicated than 'marc marquez sucks at feuds'. there's clearly more going on here

so I kinda feel like there's two interrelated questions here, right. let's break it down:

how high quality are marc's rivalries/feuds?

to what extent can the quality or lack thereof of marc's rivalries/feuds be attributed to him, versus circumstantial factors that were outside of his control?

now with the first question, again, I do agree that right now in his career... marc could be doing better. he's got one major feud - and admittedly it's a doozy, but it's against a guy who has five major feuds to his name. if you look at that without context then it's quite easy to conclude valentino is putting in all the hard work, with little to no contribution from marc needed. apart from that... well, his other big rivalry on paper is with dovi - which, yeah, that one is lacking in narrative tension. the main issue with that rivalry isn't actually the lack of drama per se, it's that it just doesn't go anywhere. it's a bunch of strong on-track battles with no real arc to connect them, just ends up being completely static past the conclusion of 2017. I never got the sense that the two of them felt massively differently towards each other after 2019 than they had a couple years earlier... that's what kills it imo, like you need something to be happening in a rivalry. you need the two parties to have a substantial impact on each other! you can vaguely make that case for 2017 if you really want to push it - but it's just not enough, it only lasts for a few months, and it's lacking in the build-up and pay-off department. there's no real shift in their dynamic, not in terms of their relationship or their title fights or even their on-track battles... their first big battle is dovi beating marc in austria and their last big battle is dovi beating marc in austria, so you can't even say marc's learned how to deal with the red bull ring's final corner better. the only thing that's substantially changed is that marc knows he'll win the title anyway. look how far we've come

then there's marc's rivalry with dani, interesting on paper and they did have a reasonable amount of tension, but obviously you'd be hard-pressed to mention it in the same sentence as any of the real top tier rivalries. it's just over too soon, marc wins it too conclusively, and they don't have a single memorable on-track battle to their name beyond 'that time marc cut dani's sensor cable'. the jorge rivalry isn't terrible - you've got a few strong-to-iconic on-track battles like jerez + silverstone 2013, mugello + silverstone 2014, mugello 2016, austria 2018... but yeah, the tone is really quite muted and reserved by jorge's standards. there's not a massive amount of development in that relationship post-2013, and it just sort of fizzles out over the years. again, really becomes more of a collection of moments than an actual cohesive narrative arc - like something like austria 2018 is a fun throwback, you've got jorge being mad at marc over the aragon 2018 crash that essentially ended his season, but it also doesn't really lead to anything bigger. maybe there was a teensy bit of hope the honda teammate situation would reawaken that rivalry (me and casey both grabbing the popcorn, mind), but jorge just wasn't competitive enough for that to go anywhere

so, who's fault is this? is marc just mid at starting feuds? why hasn't he started more feuds with a bunch of people who showed they were perfectly capable of starting feuds with each other? why hasn't he given the people more to work with? who can we blame for this sorry state of affairs?

now, honestly, I reckon most of the issues with marc's track record can be put down to circumstance and poor timing. I already said that you'd expect marc to be doing way better if he'd been born early enough to run into the aliens in their primes. this is for several reasons. the first reason is that he managed to miss casey entirely - who on paper has to be the alien you'd expect marc to get on the worst. casey has the most rigid belief structure surrounding riding standards and acceptable levels of aggression, he's the least likely to be okay with marc's 'vicious on-track smiling off it' schtick, he had a multi-year vendetta against the exact sort of behaviour in practise and qualifying marc has made a habit of throughout his career, he is a strong believer in the kind of teammate cooperation in development marc memorably eschewed at honda, he would have also found marc's flavour of media games distasteful at best, he's highly sensitive to anything that could be construed as an attack on him... and marc in turn would have been aware of all this and actively enjoyed pissing casey off. in some respects they feel like an even worse match than valentino and casey. marc and casey on the 'alien compatible personalities quiz' score negative points. so that's just poor timing - marc barely missed out on him! you've removed the most irascible alien from the picture, the guy who had the highest quantity of low level beef with the entire paddock... it's already taken away such a major obvious feud opportunity from marc that you have to be a bit more lenient when judging his record

beyond that, let's turn to two interrelated reasons for why marc didn't get more narrative juice out of his other rivalries with that generation: a) the competitive landscape, and b) how the aliens themselves changed over time. the biggest and most important factor is (a). my general stance with feuds is that it's really really hard to start a feud in year one of a rivalry - you simply need more build-up than that. this is incidentally also 100% true of valentino's feuds. biaggi and valentino already despised each other going into 2001 (incidentally the lack of a narrative arc is why that one's also not a top tier rivalry for me), sete and valentino needed 2003 to set up 2004, valentino and casey were more or less fine in 2007 and ditto with jorge and valentino in 2008 and even mostly 2009. you can likewise point to valentino and marc already having enough significant interactions in 2013-14 to set up the volatility of their on-track encounters in the first half of 2015. for a counterexample, check out valentino and nicky hayden - who were title rivals in 2006 and 2006 alone, and managed to get through that entire year with minimal drama and their relationship emerging entirely unscathed. if hayden had still been more competitive after that year, maybe something would have changed... but as it stands, you do need time to build up the kind of interpersonal history for things to get nasty in a meaningful way. see also btw how dani and valentino's rivalry never got properly nasty, despite some build up in 2006

compare and contrast with marc's situation. 2013 is actually perfectly good set up... except then it's immediately followed by a dud of a season, where marc is dominant enough in the first half to make the title fight essentially a non-starter. after 2013, dani really isn't a competitive threat to marc anymore outside of isolated patches, and marc so effectively wrests control away from that team that he doesn't really need to do anything more dramatic. (also a question of the personalities involved - if you paired up jorge with marc as teammates in 2014, that situation immediately looks a lot more volatile.) now, okay, you might query the lack of tension between marc and jorge in 2015... but marc was just too focused on valentino that year, not least because that's the guy he was actually fighting on-track. and he nukes himself out of that title fight fairly early on, so the interpersonal valentino stuff kinda becomes the main source of competitive stakes for him at certain times in that season. 2016 the title fight fizzles out around assen, and then jorge's off into the competitive wilderness himself at first ducati then honda. and with dovi, you've got the obvious problem is that the seasons are in the wrong order. dovi was a serious title threat... but only in the first year of that rivalry, aka 2017. and only for part of that season! at the start of the year, it was really vinales marc was focused on - hence badgering him in pre-season testing - and it really took quite a while for marc and dovi to establish themselves as the two title contenders. as a season, it most closely resembles the chaos of 2006 - which, again, didn't lead to any drama between valentino and hayden in part because it just wasn't as focused on two protagonists. after that, dovi has a poor start to 2018, and by 2019 marc's just flattening everyone. it's basically like if you switched 2003 and 2004 for sete/valentino (though obviously sete's 2003 is a fair bit more competitive than dovi's 2018)... you needed the proper title fight when they were already established rivals. real take - valentino in marc's situation most likely doesn't start a feud with dovi in 2017-19 for the simple reason that he just does not need to. valentino's feuds typically come from some sense of competitive necessity, or at the very least convenience... casey is the strongest example here, where valentino behaves as closely as he ever has to a rational actor and only really escalates that feud when it makes perfect sense to do so. with dovi, given how little threat he posed in 2018-19 and especially presuming there's not a preexisting interpersonal relationship that can be twisted by the injection of competitive stakes (as there was with sete)... why bother?

this, to me, is really the main explanation for prime!marc's feud record. he runs into versions of the aliens that all eventually drop off competitively, and doesn't have to face the same level from them as a collective as he would have in say 2008-09. he doesn't have to face casey. and his sete equivalent is just not as much of a competitive threat as sete was beyond the first year of that rivalry. feuds do need something to get them going - and generally, competing against the same guy across multiple seasons, feeling genuinely threatened by them, is one of the most common and important preconditions. the second alien-related factor is how the aliens themselves had changed. again, we're missing casey... and then with jorge and dani, well, they'd definitely mellowed from where they were at c. 2006-08. there's a few reasons for this. firstly, they grew up. just a little. it's been known to happen. secondly, you do have to mention the sic factor... discussed a bit here and I don't really want to go into too much depth about it, but obviously it does make a difference that jorge and especially dani had gone through this experience where they'd essentially been feuding with another rider who then died. inevitably, that will have played into how they reacted to marc. thirdly, this is a topic for another post but... jorge and dani (and casey) had become pretty determined in 2011-12 not to give the media and fans what they were so desperately yearning for (drama) - in an act of generational solidarity against the concept of beef. it was a bit of a reaction against how they felt constantly misinterpreted by fans and media, as well as essentially being quite contrarian about being incessantly called 'boring' all the time... and a fuck you to valentino and his supporters in the fanbase + media specifically by having things be more civil between the three of them than they had been in times past (plus how they rejected any sort of hard riding). all this means marc has the misfortune to run into versions of the aliens who are actually very much trying not to start feuds. I mean, even valentino wasn't really out to start feuds, it just sort of ended up happening... it's way harder to start a feud with 2013!jorge than it is with 2008!jorge - and the two major jorge feuds that still flare up past 2013 are one where there's already significant history (like, say, jorge thinking dovi was already attempting to 'undermine his morale' when they were both teenagers)

the other situational factor is the time marc has spent in the competitive wilderness. marc was 27 when his arm injury happened. as a point of comparison, that's the age valentino was in 2006 - by which point he has had two major feuds plus a couple more minor ones. in a way, right, you can say marc wasn't doing that badly at that stage... marc is now 31, aka valentino's age in 2010. by then, valentino had added two more major feuds to his collection; he's quite productive in his late twenties you have to say. but marc obviously hasn't been in a situation where he's going to be getting embroiled in great rivalries... the only title he'd been fighting for before this year was champion of crashes. you're less likely to start feuds when you're in the competitive wilderness - there's just not any point and marc quite frankly had better things to worry about. the thing about 2019 is that at the time, people did feel like marc might have been setting up some juicy rivalries... the most common names talked about back then were rinsy and especially fabio. now, as it turned out, rinsy was outshone by his teammate in the one year suzuki was in the title fight, so that probably wouldn't have become a big thing regardless of marc's situation - but fabio... well, I don't know if I think marc would've started feuding with him necessarily, but you'd at least hope for some flavour of interesting rivalry. admittedly, you were giving marc a bit of an unfairly difficult task here, given the age gap equivalent rival for valentino is casey. again, look me in the eyes and tell me you think fabio quartararo isn't harder to start a feud with than casey stoner. starting a feud with casey is easy mode. give me fifteen minutes trapped with him in a conveniently broken lift and I bet you I could make him my lifelong enemy

still, crucially we never got to see that play out. and without the injury, marc would've already had several years to fight pecco and even jorge martin on equal-ish terms, which again just isn't an opportunity he's had until this year. those were some of his prime feud-starting years stolen from him... though also, speaking of casey vs fabio - I mean, that's the other thing, isn't it. whether you want to blame it on this generation of rider personalities or overly professionalised upbringing or the social media climate or whatever, the general willingness to feud with other riders has massively declined in the paddock. even insulting your fellow riders is pretty rare. casey thought the media and fans were too harsh to him back in the day, to put it mildly, but in a lot of ways it'd be far worse for him now. (incidentally, y'know the whole mir apologising to marc thing - can you imagine casey doing that? the correct answer is no, obviously not, how is that even a question, are you insane.) and even that generation was seen as a milder assortment of characters than valentino's lot, who in turn were at times considered oddly friendly by the guys who came before them. there are no max biaggi's in today's motogp. sete failing to threaten to punch valentino after jerez 2005 was considered disappointingly polite by a lot of the media. It Was A Different Time. it's not just that marc's feud rate is flagging - it's the case for everyone, which is how you get acosta offering to try and spice things up between the current title contenders. marc does need someone to feud with, and it doesn't help if they're all being so awfully conflict-averse

so, that's the marc defence case. marc just hasn't had enough plausible opportunities to start proper feuds, and you can't really judge him by how situational factors keep conspiring against him on that front. now, I think that is probably the main reason why it's been quite so dire for him... but still, it's also not quite satisfying to pretend like marc and valentino are quite literally identical in that regard, that they would have ended up with exactly the same profile of feuds in each other's positions. admittedly I don't really believe valentino would have had a radically different number of feuds in marc's career timeline... jorge is if anything the most proactive of the lot, often not even really needing much competitive justification to escalate a feud. still, you do suspect that there are differences in marc's approach that would always make him a little less likely to come up with these high quality feuds. one factor is motivation - valentino generally needs to get more creative in order to motivate himself to win than marc does, cf how much more flighty he gets when things are going well for him. valentino has long had a reputation for using his rivals to motivate himself, building them up as enemies and so on. there's rivals for which this is more the case than others, and it's a bit more complicated than that... but in general, valentino really benefits from these feuds, and is more reliant on them than marc is. marc can also use his rivals to motivate himself, cf 'his record at misano'. the most egregious example is 2019, where he comes in off the back of two back-to-back last lap defeats, hops onto the rear tyres of the yamaha's for much of that weekend until eventually he has that spat with valentino in qualifying that conveniently gives him the fire to reverse the recent trend and snatch victory away from poor fabio on the last lap. that's probably the most proactive he's been about it, and it's the kind of enterprising spirit I'm always happy to see in my riders. but in general... he does also just seem pretty content to reel off victories without any added source of motivation. valentino needs to jump through a few more hoops to get himself going, which happen to be very feud-inducing hoops. marc is far more capable of showing up and just doing the business

there's a related factor here that's a bit more nebulous and it's just... how they go about winning, both races and titles. now, okay, obviously they're both aggressive riders - marc notably so for the entirety of his career, while valentino got more aggressive after leaving honda and having to compensate for a bike disadvantage (having already been a menace in the lower classes). generally marc is the more aggressive rider, with valentino a little happier to pick and choose his moments and only escalating when he really feels he has to. similar peaks, lower baseline of aggression. that being said, valentino relied on one-on-one duels a lot more in winning his titles than marc did. marc's biggest strengths in winning his titles was a consistent and relentless pace advantage over the opposition, where he was able to score higher on his bad days than they were on theirs. his wins were generally more likely to be dominant than valentino's were (though it is admittedly quite hard to tell at times whether valentino was really riding anywhere close to 100% in his honda days) - and the momentum swings in his title fights tend to be because his opponents had made errors. valentino kinda needed the 1 vs 1 thing to be clicking for him to win his titles, because that's what his whole game is built on. 2004 plays out completely differently if valentino doesn't win any number of close duels - obviously welkom, but perhaps even more importantly the mugello/catalunya/assen stretch of the season he entered with a points deficit and left the new championship leader (with his relationship with sete rather worse for wear to boot). 2008 is obviously the poster child for this, as to a slighter lesser extent is 2009, which has been covered elsewhere on this blog and will be again in the near future... marc, by contrast, kinda thrives on losing close duels against his title rivals that are worrying to them because he was so close to victory at his weaker tracks. you can cite various mugello and austria and qatar races here... again, has been discussed elsewhere, but the point is that it's just a bigger part of valentino's game than it is for marc. and if so much in terms of stakes and championship momentum is attached to these single races... well, that's actually pretty much the perfect trigger point for starting feuds. by the latter half of his prime, marc kinda knew he could get away with losing some of these fights, especially against dovi (vs how he allegedly was 'angry' after the rins defeat and really relished the triumphalism of beating poor sweet fabio). valentino could extremely not afford to lose some of these duels if he wanted to win the title, and often ended up souring his relationships with his competitors in the process of winning. again, laguna 2008 is the poster child here - valentino's behaviour in this race is far more significant in determining that relationship's trajectory than him being 'mildly chilly' towards casey for the preceding one and a half years

the last factor kinda feels like the most obvious one: valentino often was just more proactive in his shit stirring, especially off-track. marc tends to do a lot of his psychological warfare on the track, which is discussed in more detail in the mind games post but is obviously reflected in stuff like stalking specific riders endlessly in practise and qualifying. valentino does plenty of on-track psychological warfare and he certainly wasn't averse to the odd towing shenanigans (just ask casey), but he was also more prepared to just fire a few shots in the media. he's capable of more subtlety than he's sometimes given credit for, had a pretty good feel for escalation... which can actually be quite frustrating, because at times you have to take his rivals at their word when they say he was being mean about them in the media - not always easy to find actual examples of that! he'd also get creative about how to exert pressure on his rivals - for which one of the more obvious examples would be getting proxies like his crew chief jb to do the mudslinging on his behalf. still, it shouldn't be too controversial to say he's more likely to attack his rivals directly in the media than marc is - who ramps up the subtlety all the way and usually just gestures vaguely in the direction of saying something that could be a snide remark... but isn't really direct enough to actually be a clear attack. now, if you set baby casey or baby jorge on the case, notoriously sensitive characters that they were, there'd still be a decent chance they take offence at the sort of thing marc says about his rivals... but as it stands, marc clearly prefers this less obvious approach, and this current lot isn't going to call him out on it. and yes, obviously sepang 2015 and the repercussions thereof will have strengthened marc's conservatism in this regard, a wish to avoid any further drama paired with a desire to show that valentino was the problem in that particular rivalry by avoiding any further feuds. and if marc's less likely to be proactive in media mudslinging and is also less likely to find himself in the sort of race that burns interpersonal relationships... well, it's not surprising he'd be less predisposed to feuds, is it

there's some other stuff we could bring in here, like valentino's tendency to play an active role in narrativising his career that fortunately just happens to also makes feuds more likely (topic for another post currently in the drafts). you could talk about how marc is less sensitive than jorge or especially casey, how he's more likely to brush off criticisms and then commit himself to on-track revenge. how he has a lot of low level beef with other riders that has just never quite been given the space or opportunity to grow into a proper feud. how jorge is more impulsive and is likelier to start fights immediately in response to a perceived slight, versus marc who is far likelier to bottle things up. in general, though, I still put most of the blame on circumstance. while valentino is definitely the frontrunner in the feuding department, there's no single correct way to go about starting your feuds - and jorge, for instance, has really showcased an alternative approach that can also yield some very positive results. marc should have been given more opportunities to figure out his own way to start up multiple narratively complex rivalries/feuds. he has some traits that are well-suited to a strong profile of rivalries and feuds, from his on-track aggression to his tendency to play games in the media to his ruthlessness to his ability to take defeats personally and feel threatened by rivals. the towing thing. his behaviour as a teammate. how uncompromising his approach towards riding is. there's a lot of strong stuff there, it just hasn't been given the chance to shine as much as you'd like

all that being said... he still has time! there's no reason to believe next year won't give us what we hope for in that regard, as long as that's a reasonably competitive title fight. and I don't think it'd be fair to pecco and marc to attribute any heated rivalry between them completely or even mostly on valentino - they have enough reasons unrelated to him to desperately want to beat each other. if anything, the valentino factor is unfortunately more likely to make them both a bit more restrained in that regard, wary of the drama of it all... but here's hoping! and they've already built up a bit of history now, some significant on-track encounters - I'd say that in an ideal world they've done more than enough prep work for them to get to feud territory next year. the other obvious name is pedro, a charmingly genre aware child with what a rather pronounced scepticism towards marc specifically, who feels like he would not only be up for a feud with marc but has quite possibly already game-planned what that feud would look like. hey, you never know, maybe I will successfully barter away my soul to finally make yamaha competitive again... let's see if we can try to get that depressed frenchie interested in some proper rivalries once he's back in the game. hopefully, marc still has a few competitive years ahead of him - and hopefully, he'll also get some help from the other side to get something narratively compelling going. I believe in him! remember, valentino pissed away two entire years in his early thirties but still managed to start his most long-lasting and emotionally devastating feud at the age of 36. isn't that inspiring? it's never too late to burn bridges. I for one hope marc still has something rancid in store for us

#OPTIMISM WINS #the biggest feud of 2017-19 was actually me vs jorge lorenzo after he definitively killed any hope of a title fight at catalunya 2019 #in retrospect. yes. that was very funny. but at the time i was considerably less amused #you can have high level feuding during periods of domination but only if it's been previously set up imo #like again the 2019 equivalent is 2005 which obviously DOES have extremely rancid vibes but only because 2004 was as close as it was #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #alien tag #low key very funny that dani casey dovi and jorge were all born in a two year stretch. all got to grow up judging each other #the literal definition of 'wow these people are so weird. thank god i'm the normal one'#i do actually need to write that jorge/casey post because juxtaposing their thoughts about each other as teenagers -#- just makes me laugh every time. like it's not even a BAD vibe as it is a completely discordant one. paints such a funny picture

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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you know, i was getting all sorts of ick feelings from the apology dance, and I'm so glad you pointed that out as not actually very cute or romantic in one of your posts, because yeah. it wasn't.

anyways i also just really love all of your crowley meta it's so well thought out and everything about trauma and healthy relationships i- it's just all amazing, so thank you (and sorry for the rambling lol)

Thank you! And never feel bad for rambling, I love rambling with people about this show.

The apology dance is such a sore spot for me, the entire first episode is, really. At first it seems - cute, funny, you laugh, and then don't think about it too much.

But then you do think about it and suddenly it is everything but romantic.

I might write a whole meta post about it at some point but the summary is basically as follows.

Aziraphale calls Crowley to meet him in the café and we're literally starting off with "don't say anything" for no reasons, but alright. Then he talks around the point, lies to Crowley's face, and eventually brings him to the bookshop only because Nina sped the whole thing up with the naked man comment. Aziraphale does not warn Crowley, doesn't say anything, nothing. Just jumps it on him.

THEN he refuses to "ask him properly", expecting Crowley to play bad cop and do the dirty work.

When Crowley tries to be a fucking adult about it and actually talk to Aziraphale in private, Aziraphale is already not listening to him. We get the "exactly" question, Aziraphale ignores every single issue Crowley points out because he has already decided what he is going to do. What he wants from Crowley is not a solution - he wants him to say "yes and" and do what he has in mind.

He THEN behaves like a fucking five year old with his "You're at liberty to go". I am holding myself back here but in short, this is a manipulation tactic. He is LITERALLY guilt tripping Crowley.

Crowley is incredibly taken aback and rightfully hurt, and Aziraphale feels bad and goes back to begging him for help - and Crowley almost says yes. He is about to say yes because he loves him and wants to keep him save.

Aziraphale however, for fucking childish reasons, goes back to his temper tantrum and throws "if you won't, you won't" into Crowley's face, sits down, and watches him leave. After HE called HIM for help because again, he didn't want help. He wanted a "yes of course aziraphale do you want a massage too or maybe a cocktail?"

But nooooo, of course it's Crowley who needs to apologize, and the fact that he is forced into doing the dance by Aziraphale is such a funny haha romantic laugh moment and not at all the fucking climax of Aziraphale's entire manipulation tactic.

Yeah. Fuck that, is my final thought. Conclusion: not funny, someone get Crowley into a healthier environment asap.

this turned into a little meta post i hope you don't mind rip i'm in a mood today

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #good omens meta #apology dance

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thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies · 3 months ago

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Bad Habits

***Essentially head-cannons of the boys’ bad habits. In case you were wondering, yes, I use these to write my fanfics. It makes a world of difference. Also I am literally Stiles.***

Aiello

*Horrible road rage. If he gets cut off in traffic he’s yelling out the window at them about what a horrible driver they are and how they need their license suspended.

*Has the worst foul mouth you’ve ever seen. He stubs his toe and out comes a long string of curse words that would make even a sailor blush. Accidentally taught his five-year-old nephew to curse like that.

*Leaves shoes and crap all over the floor because he doesn’t feel like picking it up.

*So very, very nosy. Goes through everyone’s things and tries to act innocent when they find out. Often read his sisters’ journals when he was younger and they slapped him for it.

* A perfectionist to a fault. If he doesn’t do it right the first time he rage quits and practically has a tantrum over it. Has a hard time picking up new things because of it.

Zussman

* Has a pile of dishes in his room from various midnight snacks. His mom yells at him because he’s the reason she can never find more that two plates at meal times.

*Falls down the stairs at least once a week because he takes them two at a time. Has amassed numerous sprained ankles/wrists and a couple broken fingers like that.

* Runs in the house with socks on and slips and falls on the hardwood floors. Very clumsy young man.

* Can’t sit still for anything. Got in trouble for it often as a kid. Most likely has adhd.

*Tends to buy unnecessary items because he thinks they look cool then never uses them.

Stiles

*Tends to neglect basic life stuff (eating, hygiene, cleaning, ect) in favor of hyper-focusing on his hobbies.

*Eats raw cookie dough/cake batter because his sweet tooth tells him to. Has had to go to the hospital for salmonella because of this countless times.

*So awkward with girls. He tries to flirt and says something creepy then makes it worse when he tries to backtrack and fix it.

*Info dumping random information on people who never asked for it in the first place.

*Collects hobbies like they’re going out of style (see what I did there 😉?) but only actively does, like, three of them.

*Collects sweater vests and never wears them.

Daniels

*Bites his tongue while eating on a regular basis.

*Lets Hazel pick out his clothes because he doesn’t know how to match.

*Flops around like a fish out of water trying to get comfortable in bed at night. It irritates Hazel to no end.

*Won’t go in the attic because “There are spiders up there.” This guy fought in a war and he’s terrified of spiders.

*Isnt allowed to do laundry because he always manages to screw it up somehow (whites turn pink, stretches out knit sweaters, loses baby socks, ect)

#cod #cod ww2 #cod wwii #drew stiles #frank aiello #joseph turner #red daniels #robert zussman #william pierson #call of duty fandom #call of duty fanfic #call of duty ww2 #call of duty wwii #call of duty #call of duty fic

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rebo-chan · 1 year ago

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Sorry y'all this one's gonna be a long one lol fun analysis/theorizing/headcanoning whatever the fuck this is under the cut :)

So, lately I've been really thinking about Lambo and Tsuna's relationship, Lambo's connection to Vongola, and Lambo's spot as the Lightning Guardian. I know as a fandom, we tend to disregard Lambo because he has like.. two fights in the whole series or wish that someone else was made the Lightning Guardian because that boy is Literally Five. And I won't act like it wouldn't have been cool to see another character as Lightning Guardian (My Haru Guardian fans rise up where are you) but I think what Amanos done here is really fun too from an analysis perspective.

To start with, Tsuna's family is not really a..traditional Mafia family or even a traditional Vongola family either. Let's look at this here, he's got his Two Best Friends(TM), his crush's big brother, the leader of the Disciplinary Committee at his school, a criminal, a half dead girl, and the aforementioned five year old as his guardians. This is FAR from what's likely expected out of the Vongola family, even when you date it back to Primo AT LEAST PRIMO HAD PRINCES, PRIESTS, SAMURAIS as his guardians. (Though he gets away with having One Best Friend (TM) as his guardian.) Yet somehow, their family makes it work!! They survive the Mafia world, multiple times throughout the series and when it's not working they get stronger as a unit and they fight for each other and make it out together. And I think that's the beauty of their specific family.

So then you have Lambo, who Tsuna would do anything for just to avoid Lambo having to experience a fraction of the shit they go through. And Tsuna actually SUCCEEDS at this, he doesn't normally succeed when it comes to being avoidant of Mafia stuff but this was something throughout the series that he was so genuinely adamant against. He only let Lambo fight when he truly had to and even then he very minimally let the Mafia world wrap its greedy paws around Lambo. Kokuyo arc, Tsuna didn't even sort of kind of a little bit consider taking Lambo with them (which would later help keep Kyoko and Haru safe), Varia arc, knowing that this would disqualify him, Tsuna decided he could not allow Lambo to keep fighting.

Future Arc, Tsuna kept Lambo out of the fight as much as he could, allowing the non-fighters to take care of him and I-pin. Shimon Arc, Tsuna felt real regret at the prospect that he allowed Lambo to come.

(And Arco arc where Lambo was hardly present at either, which I'd like to imagine that if Lambo was involved in Arco arc then Tsuna may have just absolutely fucking died)

Tsuna to Lambo is not his guardian (Frankly, he doesn't view any of his guardians as such, they are his friends, his pride, his comrades, and those he has traded blows with and knows they can be trusted.) Lambo to Tsuna is his little brother. This five year old was sent on an assassination attempt that was absolutely in no circumstance meant to actually succeed and the Bovinos know that. To send Lambo to assassinate the strongest hitman was a death mission. So, Tsuna took this child in (or rather this child stuck around bc his Mom makes banger meals) and immediately Tsuna assumes the role of his brother. Lambo and Tsuna are the closest out of all the kids. (Ofc Tsuna loves I-pin and fuuta too, but I think it's safe to say Lambo is his dumb little brother)

Now, I don't think that Tsuna is ever going to see Lambo as anything but his little brother. I actually theorize that the way TYL Lambo is the way he is because Tsuna never really got out of the habit of babying him. He's calmed down since he was a kid and developed a more nonchalant personality with the occasional tantrum because you can't tell me Tsuna DOESNT STILL view TYL Lambo as a non-combatant. When Tsunas 15, he looks at 5 year old Lambo and goes no thanks that boy is never touching a weapon in his life. When Tsunas is 25, he sees 15 year Lambo and goes that is STILL a child he is never touching a weapon in his life. And yes he's completely unaware of the hypocrisy in my head.

This is a spoiled little brother no one can tell me otherwise.

So we know Tsuna just sees him as his kid brother and not a real guardian. But then you have Lambo's feelings about the whole matter. We know that Lambo doesn't really consider Tsuna a boss but as his big brother, but I don't think that changes a lot for Lambo. While fighting is scary for Lambo, he still desires to follow alongside Tsuna and his friends. He doesn't want to be left behind and makes Tsuna promise him he'll take him wherever he goes. He sees Tsuna freaking out about him being a child in a battlefield and he goes, "No you don't understand, I want to be there."

And that? That right there is what fucks me up after everything. Lambo as a concept for a Lightning Guardian feels really unique because of this. He's the youngest one. He's always going to chase after the others, trying to keep up with them, to walk alongside them. One day, he wants to catch up and be considered a rightful Guardian like the others. And that is so... Tsuna and him would be batting heads over this because I cannot see Tsuna relenting on Lambo staying out of the battle. I cannot see Tsuna ever feeling like Lambo's ready. Not because he thinks Lambo is weak, but because Lambo's his baby brother and Tsuna needs him more away from the battle or else he can't focus.

While Tsuna doesn't react outwardly in this frame, I do think it's not a coincidence that he could focus on fighting the battle and not be "impatient" as Reborn put it, the moment he saw Gokudera and Hibari on the battlefield. He could focus easier knowing his friends were running around saving Lambo and co.

Okay, so you have the Big brother who wants to protect his little brother from seeing the same stuff he does, from fighting the same battles he does, and wants him to grow up as a regular kid (a right which he had been robbed off the moment a certain hitman showed up at his door). Then you have the little brother who wants wholeheartedly to be there, desires to catch up to his big brother and know the world that his big brother knows.

How does this difference in value get addressed? well it doesn't because Lambo is still 5 and Shounen jump are cowards for ending Amanos series when they did <3 B U T we have this.

We all know this scene for when we rewatched Reborn for the first and went "..wait.." because that was some actually sweet foreshadowing from Amano. Okay, so. We have a Lambo who finally did it. Finally is someone worthy of being called the Vongola Lightning Guardian. And Tsuna and co are implied to have just been... Gone. All of Tsuna's efforts to raise this kid in a regular life are ripped away because something happens to HIM, not Lambo. And from Lambo's perspective, he's caught up finally but the person he was following isn't around anymore. He didn't think he'd see him again. I think it's safe to assume that this scene either implies that something happens to Tsuna in his 30s (since we know he wasn't actually dead TYL) OR 20yl Lambo is from a parallel world where Byakuran had actually won and actually took Tsunas life.

And I think that's some real meat to bite into for these characters. A little brother who will lose his big brother if he doesn't do something, get stronger in time. A big brother who won't let him join the battle because he's afraid of losing HIS little brother. A Vongola Lightning Guardian who wants to be a shield for his Boss, and a Boss won't let him be a shield.

And that? That's a good concept for a Vongola Lightning Guardian.

Thank you for reading this far if you did :] this is a bit of a ramble but I was thinking about it and I felt it nice to share. I hope maybe I shared some of my brain worms with you <3

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #sawada tsunayoshi #lambo bovino #ough this was a long one #why cant i make regular haha funny one liners #whys everything gotta be a thesis paper i s2g

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princesssarisa · 2 months ago

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Character ask: John Brooke (if you're feeling up to do so)

Favorite thing about them: His steady kindness, gentleness, and dependability, and his devotion to Meg, their children, and his friends. Even as he takes on the role of disciplinarian with his children, he combines it with sweet tenderness, and he always wants Meg to be happy, even at his own expense. To say nothing of the way he helps the March parents and write comforting letters home to the girls during Mr. March's illness in Part I. He's an excellent man in general, with very little to dislike about him.

Least favorite thing about them: Probably his behavior in the jelly incident: laughing and joking about it when Meg is distraught (even if it is funny), and saying in annoyance that he'll never bring an unexpected guest home again. Unlike other readers, I don't dislike him for it, but it does show that he's human and not perfect.

Also, the fact that he eventually dies young in Little Men. So sad.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm intelligent and well-educated, as he must be to work as a tutor and a bookkeeper.

*I'm a kind, loving person, or at least I try to be.

*I like a simple, cozy life.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not married and don't have children.

*I don't enjoy talking about politics.

Favorite line:

From "Domestic Experiences," when he learns that Meg spent fifty dollars on silk for a dress – even though he's not happy, he makes no complaint, but tries to be cheerful about it for Meg's sake:

“Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat’s when she gets it on."

From later in the same the same chapter, when he cancels his order for a new overcoat:

“I can’t afford it, my dear.”

Again, no complaint. No mention of the fact that it's because of Meg's silk purchase that he can't afford it. He just quietly gives up something he needs so Meg can have what she wants – which rightly moves her to repay him by giving up the dress so he can have his coat after all.

brOTP: The March, Laurence, and Bhaer families, and his own children.

OTP: Meg.

nOTP: His daughters Daisy and Josie.

Random headcanon: Having Laurie as a student helped to prepare him for parenthood, even though Laurie is only about six or seven years younger than himself. Handling 1-year-old Demi's tantrums would have been much more daunting if he hadn't already dealt with such a high-spirited handful of a teenage boy.

Unpopular opinion: I couldn't decide between these two common pieces of slander against him, so I'll cite both. Get ready for some long ramblings from the John Brooke Defense Squad.

He doesn't have anger issues. When Marmee advises Meg never to make him angry (which is problematic advice by modern standards, I'll admit), her message isn't "He's an unforgiving grudge-holder, so you'd better placate him," and it certainly isn't "You should be afraid of him." Her point is just that his anger is different from the temper that Meg (to an extent), Amy, and especially Jo have all inherited from Marmee: their anger is more fiery, but it dies just as quickly as it flairs up, while John's anger is quiet and repressed, but for that very reason it lasts longer. Later, when Meg feels "afraid of her husband" when she's about to reveal her extravagant silk purchase, she's not literally afraid of him – she's afraid of disappointing him. Nor does he "sulk" (to quote one essay I just read) after Meg says she's tired of being poor – he's hurt, but he tries not to show it, and just takes on more hours of work and cuts more corners to have more money. And in "On the Shelf," when Meg worries that he'll be "too harsh" with the naughty Demi, and when she feels anxious about leaving him alone with the twins, she's certainly not afraid he'll abuse them! She's just a soft-hearted new mother who can't bear to see her little boy unhappy – even briefly and for his own good – and who has never let anyone but herself take care of the twins and worries that John might accidentally hurt them. The essays and comments I've read about John's "bad temper" and Meg's "fear of him" seem to lack basic reading comprehension!

I don't think his behavior in "On the Shelf" is nearly as detestable as many readers do. In fact I don't think it's detestable at all. He's not jealous of Meg's attention to the twins – he adores his babies and begrudges them nothing. He just feels understandably ignored and lonely because Meg does devote nearly every waking minute to the babies and is afraid to let him or anyone else help her with them. Yet he doesn't complain or fault her for it at all, he just starts spending his evenings at a friend's house, with no idea that Meg minds his absence. For all he knows, she's glad to have him out of the way so she can focus even more on the twins, which she is at first: only later does she start to miss him, and even then, she never tells him how she feels. It's only her own stress that convinces her that he's being selfish, neglecting her, having fun while she slaves away, etc., and I don't understand why so many readers seem to take her perspective at face value and hate John for it. Honestly, I could write a whole volume about how and why that chapter is a healthy, progressive, feminist portrayal of a couple learning to co-parent and strengthening their marriage, yet too often is mistakenly viewed as problematic, oppressive, and anti-feminist instead.

Song I associate with them:

"More Than I Am" from the 2005 musical.

youtube

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Frank T. Merrill:

John Lodge in the 1933 film, with Frances Dee as Meg.

Richard Stapley in the 1949 film, with Janet Leigh as Meg.

Eric Stoltz in the 1994 film:

...with Trini Alvarado as Meg.

Julian Morris in the 2017 miniseries, with Willa Fitzgerald as Meg:

James Norton in the 2019 film, with Emma Watson as Meg:

#character ask #little women #john brooke #ask game #fictional characters #fictional character ask #louisa may alcott

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 2 years ago

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Hello love! I was wondering if you could do a second part to your first Maegor one shot of him killing the readers husband and taking her and her younger children's. Like the second part could be her oldest son now grown up killing Maegor and his half siblings for the trauma Maegor gave to him and his poor mother. Like after reading your one shot I knew this man deserves the cruelest demise for what he did to the reader and her family. I love your writing!

A/N: I hope you like this! Thank you very much ❤️. I'm sorry if i did not follow the entire request but I just could not kill Vaella, I did not have the heart to

pairing: Fanon!Dark!Maegor Targaryen x Reader

summary: Reader's eldest son now grown up killing Maegor and his half siblings for the trauma Maegor gave to him and his poor mother. Like after reading your one shot I knew this man deserves the cruelest demise for what he did to the reader and her family.

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: Angst, killing, mentions of rape and childbirth, very dark themes, death of children, stillbirths, mother not caring for children

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You could still remember the day Maegor forced himself on you, the day your entire life changed from heaven to hell in a couple of hours. The day Maegor forced you to leave your darling Darrick behind in Casterly Rock and forced you to move with Gerold, Lancel and Martyn.

The second you stepped foot into the Red Keep he married you in the ways of his people, he threw a feast in your honour, rubbing it all in your face before he bedded you over and over again. Maegor was not particularly cruel with your sons allowing Gerold to become his cupbearer while Lancel and Martyn were still young and once all three were old enough they were given the right education.

You however have been treated nothing short of a broodmare, he fucked you more times than he spoke to you if that was possible. You could be laying in bed reading a book when he would march in without uttering a word, he would shed his clothes expecting you to do the same before he fucked his fill before leaving.

Logically you fell pregnant shortly after your wedding, your first child with Maegor was nothing short of a monster, born with scales like his other children from his other wives. He was with you in the birthing room when the lizard like child came out of you covered in your blood almost ripping you in half.

Maegor did not grow disheartened and resumed fucking you the second the maester announced you were healed enough for the activity. In less than four moons from birthing your child you were pregnant again. This time your child came out alive, pink and crying like any newborn. You could not bare looking at the son you bore the cruel king. He looked just like his father, the Targaryen hair and the facial expression, he was named Vaegon, Maegor's father's name with the V in honour of his mother.

At first you refused even looking at the child, he was too much like his father, crying every couple of minutes to earn your attention. He was cruel in you heart. As a toddler he would throw tantrums if your other sons were anywhere near you as if it was a crime in his eyes for you to love your boys, you could just not force yourself to love him. Maegor had to literally force you to hold him for the first time when he was three moons old, you held him for a couple of minutes before returning him to the wet nurse when he fussed hungrily, the next time you held him he was five moons old.

Then you got pregnant again. Maegor was the happiest man in Westeros throwing feasts in your honour, forcing your other sons to serve you wine as if they were servants. He rewarded you with a letter from your first boy who you had not heard anything of for almost five years at that point, he was three and ten namedays that year with three more years to go before he could take the power from his uncle, his regent. Your son responded almost as soon as he received the letter warming your heart with the news of his good health.

You gave birth to a daughter this time, a girl Maegor insisted to name Vaella, she was a quiet child which is probably why you tolerated her more than you did Vaegon. Vaegon did not grow jealous of Vaella as he did Gerold, Lancel and Martyn. The three boys were distraught but found something positive of the whole ordeal, you loved them more than you did their half siblings, you broke your fast with them every day, you ate luncheon with them every day and you suppered with them every night. You spoke of their father highly and kept his memory fresh in their minds. You even drew each a portrait of him to keep his face remembered, they kept those portraits hidden from Maegor's reach fearing his anger.

By the time Darrick finally reached his six and tenth name day you have been married to Maegor for eight years with three children of his own, all from you. Vaegon was six namedays old, Vaella was five while your youngest was two namedays old, a son called Gaelon. Between Vaella and Gaelon you suffered two stillbirths of scaled sons, both looking more like a lizard than humans.

Maegor organised for a feast to be held along with tourneys to celebrate Vaegon's nameday. As his mother you had to be there along with all your children. Maegor agreed this year to let your first three sons to attend as your sons instead of being cupbearers or squires to some knight who will eventually die in the tourney.

You sat on Maegor's right side unlike his other wives who were forced to sit with the rest of the crowd, a punishment for not baring him any living children. Gerold, Lancel and Martyn sat on your right while Vaegon, Vaella and Gaelon sat on Maegor's left, much to your relief. The only one you could tolerate was Vaella, she usually would sneak into your room silently, sit beside you on the sofa and sew some handkerchief silently not wanting to disturb you.

You did not care for Vaegon, he was a needy and spoiled boy you wanted to slap many times for the things he would say and do at only seven. You worried for Vaella from him, he eyes her very weirdly especially when Maegor would mention the fact that they were betrothed to one another, much to your disgust Maegor wanted to follow the ways of his ancestors. You feared for the poor girl, she did not deserve to marry someone like Vaegon, who was too alike Maegor, she deserved someone like Norrwin, someone who would love her and cherish her.

You felt guilty sometimes for caring for Vaella, you had always wanted a daughter, but from Norrwin but when Vaella was born you could not help falling in love with the small girl, it physically hurt you to put walls in between you two. You sometimes prayed for her not to marry Vaegon, prayed she would have a better life than you did, she was only a child after all.

"Lord Darrick Lannister of Casterky Rock" Your head snapped to the side, mind still fussy from daydreaming. You watched as a horse, black as the night sky trotted out, with a young man atop of it. The young man looked like he more muscles than a fully grown man, his helmet covered his head but it looked like it was made out of the purist of gold and shaped into a lion head. A spear was in his hand as he moved onto the field proudly.

"Darry" Gerold muttered beside you. Your eyes watered and your heart hammered in your chest. Whispers flitted all around you but you could only hear the blood pump in your ears as he neared the area you sat on. You almost did not feel Maegor's hand envelope your own if he had not squeezed it so tightly you yelped from the pain. You turned to look at him to find him glaring at you, angry as he usually was.

"Mother, I hope you find me worthy enough of your favour" He sounded so different, his voice was an identical one to his father and you had no doubt he had his face as well. When he was born you whined to Norrwin that you did all the work but he got all the credit from how alike the two looked.

You roughly retrieved your hand from Maegor's much to his shock, you had ceased fighting a long time ago. You stood up from the chair you sat on, moving slowly fearing that this was a dream. You picked up the wreath of flowers you weaved every single tourney out of courtesy and to teach Vaella how to make her own. You walked over to the edge as the first tear streamed down your face.

Darrick's spear clanged with the railing of the balcony, his eyes were the only thing you could see through the helmet, a blur of blue like his father's. You placed your wreath on the pointy end of the spear letting it slide down to his arm.

"Thank you dear mother" Darrick whispered nodding his head. Your hand snapped to your mouth to hide the sobs were trying to push through "Oh my darling boy" Was all the slipped through your lips.

You stepped back as he moved to his end of the field. You sat down back in your chair trying to ignore the burning glare Maegor threw your way, how dare you feel so attached to your son? How dare you loved children that were not of him? The man who made you a queen. His hand rested on your thigh, not caring for the place and time, he squeezed with a smirk as the two opponents charged at each other.

A gasp tumbled from your lips when Darrick's spear pushed the other knight off his horse, he smacked down on the floor so hard you thought he might have broken his spine. But he stood up in a second demanding for his sword making you feel even more anxious. You grabbed Gerold's hand fearing for your eldest's safety.

Darrick climbed down his horse also holding out his hand for his sword. His spear was discarded on the floor but your wreath was pulled back by him to stay around his wrist. Darrick let the enraged knight attack first, dodging easily as if this was another Thursday to him. You held your breath the entire time.

Your heart dropped when your son did not even flinch as he pierced his sword into the other man's chest ending his life. Your son was no longer the loving boy you knew. Your son turned back around to face you and Maegor who stiffened beside you.

"That was for my brothers" Darrick announced pointing at your sons. You tilted your head to the side confused as to what he meant. You were shocked when the helmet of the other knight was pulled off to show your sworn protector, the man who helped locking you in your room and once even held you down until Maegor came to your room to bed you. The man you sometimes heard laughing while you screamed with pain because of Maegor.

"You-" Maegor stood up from his chair pointing a finger at Darrick only to be interrupted when an arrow pieced his flesh. Your eyes widened in shock as he flopped down beside you gasping for breath. You stood up through your shock to watch as he squirmed dying.

"And that is for my mother" Darrick finished pointing at the dying king. You whirled around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find knights with a lion on their armour, your son's bannermen's men.

"Vaella" You called worried for your daughter. She sprinted over to you wrapping her small arms around your thighs in fear, the first time she ever hugged you in her life. The guards grabbed Vaegon and Gaelon, the spoiled boys yelling at them.

"Unhand me you filth" Vaegon kept repeating. His eyes blazed with the fire of the dragon. You picked up Vaella holding her close to your body, moving closer to Gerold, Lancel and Martyn who were huddled together watching with their mouths slacked open.

"My sons-" Maegor held his hand out to Vaegon and Gaelon who were forced down to the field where Darrick awaited them. He turned to look at you, pleading mercy but you did nothing, no one did anything for the cruel king, he had no friends among the people around, he caused himself this demise. You almost felt happy when the light left his eyes.

"I Darrick of house Lannister challenge princes Vaegon and Gaelon to a duel" It was unfair, he was a man grown while they were children still training with blunt swords.

You turned around not wanting to watch as your sons fought and at the same time shielded your only girl from the cruelty of men, even if they were her full- half brothers. Gerold escorted you and his siblings out of the establishment and back into the Red Keep where you learned that Maegor's loyal men were put into the black cells of the Red Keep.

You waited and waited with your girl shivering in your arms, you were glad that she would not meet the fate you did with Vaegon. You were glad that you were free of the cruelty of house Targryen. The Iron Throne only glared back at you as you waited. Darrick found you in the throne room without a single scratch on him but he was covered in blood, his brothers' blood but you did not care, you never did. You hugged him close smearing the blood on yourself before introducing him to Vaella, your daughter with your dark hair but the most beautiful purple eyes, a shade she did not share with her father and brother. Darrick accepted her with open arms, he could see how she feared him seeking refugee in your arms but he loved her, she was his little sister and he will protect her with his life.

#maegor the cruel #maegor targaryen #maegor imagine #maegor x oc #maegor x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house targaryen #house of the dragon #fire and blood #house lannister #requests #request

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