#but the childhood years are more or less over

[captain-huggy-bear]

To Fight a Ten Year Old

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Notes: Alas, I did in fact experience this as a child, but I can laugh about it now :) Also writing soccer instead of football actually hurt me.

Very silly + short idea to be honest but hope it brings a smile to some faces!

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a stupid little back and forth the two of you have going as you get ready for bed, silly little questions like 'tell me about your first broken bone' and 'why is your favourite animal your favourite?'. It's something Quinn and you have been doing since you first started dating. It started as a way to get to know each other better and ended up a habit, a ritual of sorts.

Each year the questions get harder to think of as your lives become more intertwined, most of your stories featuring the other, but it still raises interesting moments from your childhoods and silly little stories that explain a lot about you or him. Things you probably wouldn't find out about each other unless you asked these random questions or a family member brought it up at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Today is no different. You're going through your night routine, taking off your make up and moisturising your skin, while Quinn brushes his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, door open so you can talk.

"Okay..." He's thinking hard, even as he talks around his toothbrush leaning his head out of the bathroom to watch you as you wipe away your eyeliner, "How about first heartbreak?" His voice is muffled around the toothbrush and almost sounds like he's underwater, despite this he never seems to want to wait until he's done.

"Like first heartbreak? Or first proper heartbreak?" You're running a cloth over the rest of your face as you ask, wiping away concealer and blush, an array of colours smearing the fabric. Your skin being revealed bit by bit.

"What's the difference?" He briefly disappears back into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste and put his toothbrush away, but you know he's still listening as you explain.

"Well, first heartbreak is that time as a little kid that you thought you were in love and got hurt by it but it wasn't serious. You were probably over it by the next week, and first proper heartbreak is when you're older and it actually is heartbreak and you can't get over it for at least 3 months."

He hums as he comes back to lean against the doorframe, shoulders looking delicious without a shirt on, "First heartbreak, probably less depressing for a Monday night."

You take a moment, reaching for your moisturiser as you think back. There are many moments you could think of where you thought you were in love as a litte kid and had your heart broken as a result, but one stands out the most.

"Okay, um...When I was 10 years old I really liked like this boy in class called Cameron but Cameron really liked Emily, a girl 2 years older than us." You can still remember it now, the way he used to sit with her whenever he had the chance, how she clearly did not want a kid 2 years younger than her hanging around, how lovesick he was...how lovesick you were.

"Okay, so Cameron likes a cougar?" You glare over at him as you rub moisturiser into your skin, disapproving as he grins at you, straight teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

"2 years apart at the age of 10 and 12 does not make someone a cougar, Quinn!"

"I don't know, baby, seems pretty cougar-ish to me." You roll your eyes at him as he strolls closer to you, taking your comb in hand and tilting your head forward gently. He's careful as he starts to detangle your hair, careful not to pull too harshly on your scalp, much kinder than your mother used to be when you were a child. Quinn's always careful not to hurt you, apologetic if a tangle pulls too roughly.

"You're ridiculous. Anyway, where was I?" You reach for the detangler handing it back to him as he works, closing your eyes gently.

"You liked a spotty kid called Cameron." There's a hint of dislike riding his voice, even as his fingers are careful as they pull strands of your hair apart, teasing out knots.

Your eyes flash open and meet his in the vanity mirror, lips pursed at the way he insults a ten year old he's never met, "I liked a tall, cute kid called Cameron who was into soccer."

"Yeah, like I said, spotty." The dislike turns to a jealous sort of mumble, matched only by the sour look on his face that has you huffing out a laugh.

"Are you jealous of a ten year old?"

"He's not ten anymore..."

"Do I need to remind you this is a story of heartbreak?"

"Still, should've been me." His hands slide from your hair, comb having been put back on the side, and down to the base of your neck. Long fingers working at the tension there, you lean back into his fingers even as you call him out for his ridiculousness.

"We didn't even know each other! You're absurd, anyway, so I was certain Cameron was my future husband and I decided to be very brave one Valentine's day and get him a card and a gift." You lean a little to the right as Quinn hits a knot on the left side of your shoulder, you sway back into him.

"I'm proud of little you, that's gutsy." He can almost imagine it, little you bravely handing over a glittery red and pink monstrosity, little bows in your hair and chubby cheeks.

"I know, braver than I am now." You're not sure you'd have been brave enough to do something like that now, it had been Quinn after all who'd made the first move, Quinn who'd set the pace of your relationship at the start, "So I get him some chocolates, those stupid cheap heart shaped ones, and I make a stupid card covered in glitter and all sorts. I take my time and I write a heartfelt confession inside and then decided to give it to him in front of the entire class."

"No..." His voice drops, horror filling it as he looks at you through the mirror, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. You nod at him, confirming his worst fears, he knows how this is about to go down.

"Yeah, rookie move. I do it though, I hand it over and then he proceeds to not even read the card and um, rip it up in front of me and the entire class while telling me that he was going to marry Emily."

His fingers still in their massage. In fact, Quinn completely stills, his entire body rigid as he frowns at you through the mirror, there's a silence, long and heavy before he speaks.

"Where does Cameron live?"

"Quinn." You turn in your seat to look up at him, lips pursed together.

"I'm serious where does he live I'm going to go have some words with him," He crosses his arms and there's a brief moment where you're distracted by the strength and definition in his forearms before you really process that he's considering having words with a guy who broke your heart when you were ten.

"About his choices when he was ten?"

"Yeah! Who does that to someone, not only did he reject you, which is an insane decision by the way, he embarrasses my baby in front of the entire class!" Quinn reaches for your hands as he rants, pulling you to your feet, as his fingers twist and twine with yours. You'd think he's just joking but his tone is completely serious and it makes your heart warm, no matter how silly he's being. He's genuinely personally offended on your behalf about something that happened when you were a child, before you knew each other. It's sweet. Silly and absurd, but sweet.

"You can't fight a guy who broke my heart at the age of ten."

"Sure, I can or I can get Millsy to do it." He cracks a smile at that, even though he's serious about wanting words with this Cameron, he's also aware he's being absurd. He tugs you closer by the hands even as you glare up at him like a disappointed parent.

"You are not setting Miller on my childhood crush!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous! It was over a decade ago!" Even as you protest you're smiling, arms reaching up to rest over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Fingers twisting the strands of brunet hair that rest there.

"And, he broke your heart and that's not acceptable, baby, i'm sorry, I have to defend your honour." Quinn palms rest on each of your hips, pulling you in as his fingers curl into your pajama bottoms.

"But, it was a good thing."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Because if he hadn't done that, I might have married him and been stuck in a loveless marriage and then never met you or met you but not been able to be with you." You look at him with a little smirk like you've beat him at his own game, like you've outplayed him in a game of chess.

"So you're saying that I actually should be thanking that spotty kid for breaking your heart?"

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence as he draws you ever closer, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, all soft lidded eyes and warmth. Pliant like a docile house cat.

"I'm not thanking him, I will, however, not get Millsy to fight him." It's mumbled so close to your lips that they're brushing his, an almost kiss that speaks volumes about where his mind is now.

"Good, because I'm not breaking you or Miller out of prison."

"You don't love me enough?" He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be offended or care as his eyes are heavy, focus on your lips, not your eyes and certainly not on the ten year old he was threatening to set Miller on 5 seconds ago.

"Oh, I love you enough, but I do not have that skill set, honey."

"I don't know, think you could probably charm the officers into letting me out, baby." Quinn brushes the tip of his nose purposefully with yours and you know he's seconds from breaking and just kissing you, he has his tells, his little gestures that have consistently given him away.

"You suggesting I seduce the police now?" You pull back just enough to get his attention, to force a pout from him at the distance, his fingers scrambling at your back to pull you back in.

"...Nawwh, only me."

"You're an idiot." He pulls in you in with enough force that your chests bump with a soft smack, rubbing his cheek against yours just because he knows the stratch of his beard will get a giggle from you as you shy away from the sensation.

"I'm your idiot though."

"Mmm, my idiot." You mumble it against his lips as he finally breaks, self control being ditched in favour of the way you sigh against his mouth. He tastes like spearmint toothpaste, minty and sweet as his lips part beneath yours with a hum.

Maybe heartbreak at ten sucked, but you can't help but be thankful for it when you ended up winning the jackpot when you scored Quinn. So much better than spotty ten year old Cameron.

[imaginaryttowns]

sevika heacanons because i'm insane abt her (general and romance-related)

(mention of sex/aftercare but no smut/nsfw/lemon/whatever here)

the card games and the cards themselves have been with Sevika since she was a little girl. she has nebulous memories of a childhood that once was, where her and her mother are playing solitaire at a small table together. she doesn't seem to talk about much from that time in her life other than that. she will get defensive if you press her about these memories.

the gambling, however, started when she was a pit fighter, in her early teens. Sevika's father was the well-known heel of a pit fighting ring, who entertained crowds of wealthier Zaunites and even more corrupt Piltovans with a suave demeanor that Sevika envied, despised, and attempted to emulate all at the same time, following in her father's footsteps for those formative years of her life. needless to say many of Sevika's current habits started during those years. in that world, one had to blend in just enough to gain social favor yet stick out enough to maintain power, and she learned the name of the game quite early in life.

she has a missing molar from those days that she somehow recovered from the fight she lost it in. she now wears it on a pendant around her neck, always tucked underneath her shirts for safekeeping.

the first time you fiddle with it was while you were sitting her lap, most likely during aftercare. she's perturbed, almost offended. but as much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to put you in your place. she decided silently that she didn't want to remove the warmth of your body from hers, and quickly got used to you fiddling with it. low-key doesn't even want to tell you it bothered her to begin with.

while moonshine and whiskey are her usual drinks of choice, this is only because they are the cheapest, most readily available alcoholic drinks in Zaun. they are by no means her favorite ones. no, her favorite drink is the bottle of imported habushu stowed away in the farthest corner of her kitchen cabinets, that she is fiercely protective over, only ever opening it for new year's day and anniversaries.

will never admit to anyone how much the habushu cost -- she is broke with expensive tastes, and this is the only splurge she allows herself regularly.

while Sevika is a regular at the brothel post-arm loss, she is not a John as most would expect. she's there to watch - watch the dancers, watch for any workers who need help with particularly invasive clients, always watching. the silent and strong sentinel. she does this without letting Silco know what she's up to. she knows how he feels about giving Babette any kind of business, but really could not care less.

"These people need protection. Enforcers ain't exactly kind to them," she tells him unapologetically the one time he caught her. he glared at her for a moment, grumbled something, waved her away dismissively, but knew better than to interfere. Deep down, he respected her reasoning and decided she was just so good at her job that her extracurricular activities were no business of his.

with all that mushy shit being said, brothels are also great places to gamble. people there are distracted, since they have their minds occupied with the 'merchandise' so brazenly advertised there. more distracted hedonists meant more wins for her, and more wins meant more cash, more notoriety, more fun. she likes to call these little visits her "bonuses" for good reason.

now back to the mushy shit. it is a common occurrence for her to show off her "bonuses" to you and only you, sometimes showering you in paper money if she's really feeling herself that time, smarmy grin always present. nothing makes her feel better than a big win.

"Mama's rich for now, baby. Anything you want, name it and it's yours." she says while making it rain on you one day. she won't take no for an answer. she enjoys being a provider, even in shallow ways. she'll take you to the jeweler's, clothing stores, pawn shops, and buy you whatever you point to if she has enough to justify the purchase.

loves, positively adores watching you get excited over a necklace or tchotchke you'd been eyeing for weeks finally become your personal property. it makes her feel proud, makes her so happy to see your eyes light up. won't say that part aloud, but you can tell she loves it by the way she keeps giving you these shopping trips and the way she looks at you in these moments with uncharacteristically soft eyes and a wide smile.

while she was not really big on PDA when the two of you first started dating, she warmed up to it over time. and boy, did she. now she was the main initiator for such displays. you practically live in her lap, and she would not have it any other way. she loves how warm your body is, and when you're cold she loves being the one to warm you up, often letting her arm activate just so the heat of the metal can warm her poncho cape before she drapes it over your shivering shoulders.

& that's all i got for nowwww!!! hello sevika nation pls lmk if y'all would be interested in more in the near future :))

[enwoso]

A MERRY JOY — alessia russo x australian!reader

twelve days of christmas | day 11

based on this request

"i wish you were going to be here for christmas" alessia pouted with a sad look on her face as you hummed mirroring her pout over facetime.

"me too baby, but i'll be back just after new years" you promised as alessia nodded, she understood that you wanted to spent christmas with your family in your home country of australia but that still didn't make her wish any less that you could be by her side for the magical day.

"i know, i just miss you" alessia sighed as you had to hide the grin from appearing on your face. "and i miss you so dearly too"

"love, i’m gonna have to go. mum's wanting some help, i'll call you when i'm going to sleep — have a good day" you quickly rambled out as she nodded, "i love you" sending you a kiss through the phone as you caught it holding it close to you, sending her one in return.

"i love you too lessi"

pressing the red button after sending each other a few more kisses through the phone, you glanced around the airport as what alessia didn't know is that her christmas wish would actually come true and you would in fact be with her for christmas.

pulling a few strings and with the help of your girlfriend's older brothers you had managed to get yourself on a flight that would get you to your girlfriends childhood home for christmas morning.

so as you spoke to your girlfriend you weren't at home and your mum definitely wasn't wanting any help as she was in actual australia while you were sat in a lounge in dubai.

but luckily you had managed to find excuses and tried your best to call alessia when you had time but also when it wasn't a suspicious time in australia so alessia as far as you knew didn't suspect a thing.

boarding your last flight which would be sending you straight to london, you sent a quick message to luca, alessia's brother, to let him know you were boarding.

him quickly replying saying he would see you on the other side but also telling you were your lift would be waiting for you once you were through.

-

after a gruelling six hour flight you had finally landed in london and it was taking everything in you not to message or call alessia and tell her you were here but you were so close to pulling off your surprise you couldn't ruin it now.

especially not after a full day of travelling from one end of the world to the other which you were definitely starting to feel the effects of as you waiting in the line for your passport to be stamped.

your eyes feeling heavy as the man behind a screen checked your passport, "have a lovely day ma'am and merry christmas" the man spoke with such joy even with such an intimidating look as you smiled wishing him the same.

you waited for your luggage as you caught luca up and told him you should be arriving in the next hour or two depending on traffic — him just telling you about your blonde girlfriend who wasn't even awake and to be honest you don't blame her.

you wouldn't want to be awake at half seven on christmas day either.

watching out the window of the cold air that hit london as you got into the car where a driver had been waiting to take you to your girlfriend like the ending of a fairytale.

the roads winding and before you know it your on the last little stretch which takes you to her childhood home, remembering the roads from the very first time she took you home to meet her parents.

sending a quick message to luca telling him you were only a few minutes, you started to get a weird feeling in your tummy. your head wondering how she would react and how much you could wait to be back with her.

it may only have been a few weeks but those weeks had felt like years especially when your used to living together and seeing and being with each other 24/7.

getting out the cab, thanking the driver and now it was time for you plan.

place your luggage at the side of her childhood home where it couldn’t be seen from the front door.

then place the flowers which had photos of the two of you that you’d printed and placed in the bunch while in the cab. putting a card addressed to her next to it on the door mat.

hide around the side of the house, which was close enough from the front door you’d still be able to hear everything said.

ring the door bell, wait for the code word from luca. ‘maybe’

"less it's for you!" luca called back as you gave him a small thumbs up, placing the flowers you had bought from the only shop you could find open on christmas day on the doorstep.

hearing the complaints from your girlfriend as she walked to the door, luca disappearing but not too far as you had asked him to video it.

"luca there's nothing there?" alessia complained as she looked around clearly not looking down at the floor where the flowers were, "oh...awh"

"who they off?" luca asked as if it wasn't obvious with the big red roses that were in them.

"who do you think?" alessia deadpanned, holding up the note which was attached to them. "how on earth has she managed to get someone to deliver them on christmas day?" alessia asked more thinking out loud as her brother just shrugged knowing exactly how you had got them there.

"maybe you should ask her" luca shrugged his head pointing to the door where you were now stood as alessia had her back to the outside as she stood in the doorway of her front door.

"well she'll be-" alessia trailed off as she caught a glimpse of movement as she was about to move and shut the front door but instead a gasp came from her.

"oh my god-" alessia screamed seeing you as she dropped the flowers, as you stood with your arms open waiting for her to jump into them and that she basically did.

"hi lessi baby" you mumbled in her ear as she gripped you tight, you doing the same back having missed her dearly even if you had been away for only two weeks — in your two books that was a long time.

"i- how?" alessia as much as she didn't want to incase you disappeared pulled away from the hug, her hands still resting on your hips as you kept a smug smile on your face.

"well i must admit i had some help-" you paused as alessia's brow deepened before she clicked who you were looking at, "you knew!"

"well duh who do you think managed to get her here?"

alessia was still in shock as she looked at you, yous told with the biggest smile on your face which was no leaving any time soon.

“should we go inside?” you asked as you tucked a strange of her hair behind her ear noticing the goosebumps which were appearing on her arms from the cold air.

alessia nodding as she let one of her hands fall from your waist as you moved towards getting your suitcase which you’d hidden round the side where you were waiting, “i’ll get it!” alessia called out as she quickly walked in front of you to get it pushing it into her childhood home.

“luca? who was at the door?” you heard carol, alessia’s mum, call out from the kitchen as it could be heard that the front door was finally shut.

“just y/n” luca called back so casually as he made his way into the living room, leaving you and alessia to have some time for it to actually settle in that you were here.

“what- she’s in- oh y/n!” carol smiled as you walked over hugging her mum as her dad also joined in to see what the whole noise was about. you also getting a welcome hug from her dad.

“thank goodness your here, alessia’s never stopped moping about” her mum whispered in your ear as you hugged her, a small chuckle coming from you as you hummed. “so i’ve heard”

“mum, dad i love you both but can i have my girlfriend back.” alessia asked with a sweet smile as you shook your head at her clinginess. her mum and dad letting out a laugh as they passed you back assuring that you would catch them up on all things australia and what their other son, giorgio was up to while he was in your home town in australia.

“you don’t want any-“ you began to offer as alessia was beginning to drag you up the stairs, you forcing your heels in but it not exactly working from the sheer strength your girlfriend had compared to you.

“oh don’t be silly y/n, you go and spend some time with moody pants” carol chuckled as she waved off your offer before spinning on her heels to go back to help her husband prepare the christmas dinner.

“oi i heard that!” alessia pouted as you were now half way up the stairs, you reassuring the blonde with a sweet kiss as alessia kicked her door open with her foot.

your lips still on hers, a feeling you had been imaging on the plane after not seeing her for a few weeks. alessia strategically moving you around her room as the kiss grew more deeper and sloppier.

“i’ve missed you so much, my love” alessia breathed out before planting her lips back into yours, this time slipping her tongue in as your hands reached to find the back of her head drawing her in even closer — if that was even humanly possible.

the rest of the day was spent with alessia by your side, sharing kisses which you’d been longing for while you were back home. but most importantly you were just happy being in her warmth and surrounded by her family — it made christmas away from home that little bit more merry and joyful.

even if you were snuggled up fast asleep against alessia in the living room after your christmas dinner by 3pm because of jet lag, alessia fingers drawing shapes on your arms as you slept.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 nightgown

synopsis: after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

cw: part 2/3, nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is FIONE, reader is also real as hell, zoro is a fiend, mihawk is such dad, this was so fun to write.

a/n: tagging: @that-b-word-lol @ihatespidersdie I NEED THIS MAN UNDER MY TREE

"C'mon, (y/n), they're not gonna fight if you keep playing with 'em," Zoro sighed, removing his sword from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You giggled, unable to fight off your smile as you danced with the humandrills, relishing in their happy snorts and yips as the leader of the gang—Chuki—picked you up and placed you on his shoulder, happily parading you around.

"Sorry," you grinned, clapping with approval as a few of the others performed back-flips and cartwheels to keep your attention. "I was coming out to check on you guys."

Just then, Chuki let out a howl of excitement, wanting to join in on the fun.

Without warning, he launched himself into a somersault, completely forgetting you were on his shoulder and sending you flying.

'Not again...'

Zoro moved like he'd done this a hundred times—which he had—effortlessly shooting himself up and catching you in mid-air, bridal style.

"Every time?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm gonna miss this," you chuckled, looping an arm around his neck as he landed.

"The hell are you gonna do when I'm gone?" he carefully put you down, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "I'm not gonna be here to keep you from falling on your face."

You shrugged, turning to Chuki with a wide smile as he gave you a high five, "I guess I'll just have to learn how to land on my own."

"HA!"

The swordsman scoffed, shoulders bobbing with laughter as you snapped your head over to him, less amused.

"The girl who can barely hold a sword? I'd love to see it."

"Hey!"

"Hu hu hua!" Chuki mimicked, turning to you with an incredulous look. "Ooh, ah ah ah, hua!"

"I know right," you agreed, resting a hand on your hip as you glanced at the swordsman. "And smelly, too..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Gloom Island was known all-throughout the Grand Line as an abandoned island, its kingdoms having brought themselves to utter ruin after years of war.

Your parents had even been drafted, and, of course, killed in the line of duty.

But, by fate or by fortune, you had managed to survive, living through most of your childhood as an orphan in a battle-ravaged kingdom.

Until, eventually, you were the last one standing.

Alone, you searched for any survivors, managing to stumble across a devil fruit along the way before meeting the humandrills.

The Speak-Speak fruit allowed you to become fluent in any language from the moment you heard it spoken aloud—animal language, included.

So, after meeting them on their level, the monkeys took you in, protecting you and treating you as one of their own until Mihawk came along not too long after, taking up the role as your father-figure and mentor.

Naturally, he tried to teach you some swordsmanship, but you lacked... talent, to say the least.

"I've gotten better since the last time we trained together!" you bellowed, proudly, as you picked up a sword, lowering yourself into an offensive stance. "Look!"

"Your posture's off," Zoro noticed, off-rip, "And your feet are too far apart."

Breath hitching, your face glowed with embarrassment, your body practically freezing in place.

'Shit!'

And just as you were trying to prove a point...

"Here," he instructed, getting up behind you and pressing his hand into the small of your back, straightening you up. "Like this."

Your spine shivered at his touch, the thick pads of his fingers practically burning into your flesh, despite the fabric separating them.

"Pull your feet a bit closer... it will firm up your stance... And if you're facing an enemy head on like this, you're gonna want to be upright."

"Okay!" you squeaked, doing your best to make the adjustments without physically combusting.

Carefully, you pulled your feet in shoulder width, and used his hand as a guide to straighten up your posture.

"Good," he commended, his arms suddenly coming around you grab your hands, helping you fix your grip on the sword. "Now when you swing, I want you to step into it."

You felt chills when his hands touched yours, years of work evident in his rough, calloused flesh, which held yours with the gentlest touch.

Turning to glance at him, your eyes came up to meet his once more, telling a story that made you just want to sit down and listen.

You studied his facial features up close—for about the fifty-millionth time—taking note of everything you had come to admire in the last two years.

The slight pink of his tanned lips...

The strength of his jaw...

The faint scar that rested on the tip of his shoulder, not that such a detail could be picked up unless one was really looking.

You felt like the staring going on for ages, but you didn't want to look away, and neither did he.

He, too, was studying your face.

And, deep down, he never wanted to look away.

"Dinner is ready," your father's voice cut through the air, draining all the color from your face.

Instantly, you and Zoro quickly threw yourselves off each other, heat rising to both your faces as you turned away, embarrassed—and slightly scared for the swordsman.

Mihawk fixed Zoro with a sharp glare, sizing him up as if he was some sort of delinquent.

He had been suspicious of you and the swordsman since the moment he arrived, particularly suspect as to why you felt so inclined to help him.

He knew you were a smart girl, and wouldn't disregard everything he had ever taught you about being safe without a valid reason.

A valid reason being a handsome man, in this case.

Still, what was he supposed to expect?

You were a woman now—no matter how difficult it was for him to accept—and women had... needs.

Mihawk shivered at the thought, quickly purging it from his mind as he turned on his heel, power-walking back toward the castle.

Not under his roof...

"Don't dawdle... it'll get cold."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Zoro called, not moving from his spot resting peacefully on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Happy Going Away/Leaving To Reunite With Your Friends Tomorrow Day!" you smiled, carefully entering his room while holding a plate with a comically large onigiri on top, a sparkler sticking out of it. "I know you don't like cake, so I brought the next best thing!"

Warmed by the display, Zoro sat up, trying and failing to fight the smile rising to his lips as you approached.

'Adorable...'

"(y/n)... you didn't have to do all his," he started, not knowing what to say as you handed him his gift.

"I know that. But I figured you deserved something special to commemorate all the hard work you've done," you nodded, sheepishly. "You put up with my dad for two years... of your own free will... that alone is its own achievement."

Letting out a small chuckle, the swordsman suddenly found his eyes drifting to you, only to be met by your pretty, (e/c) eyes staring down at him, the entire room fading around you two.

He barely believed his eyes as he drank you in—your appearance sinful enough to make the devil sweat.

Instead of your usual long, black dress, you wore a tiny, black nightgown, which accentuated your luscious, curvaceous body and exposed the enticing flesh of your thighs.

You paired the little number with some black pumps, which he bet barely made you taller than him if you were to stand up.

The moonlight pouring in from the window illuminated your skin and glossed up, plump lips at curled into a nervous smile at the sight of him.

Topped off with the sweet silkiness of your voice; the way your body sensually moved; how you smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Quietly, Zoro cursed under his breath, practically reeling.

God, if the last two years were anything, they were a testament to his willpower...

He had never felt this way before.

So distracted.

So obsessed.

You plagued his mind every hour of the day, the thoughts ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous.

Seeing you around the castle, watching the movement of your hips and the graceful slide of your hands, making him feel extremely stiff.

'Christ...'

He tried not to think of you like that.

You were the daughter of his sworn enemy, and a sweetheart, at that...

You deserved a nice guy, one that had a regular life, with a regular job and regular urges.

Not a jaded pirate like himself.

But you were just so damn alluring, he couldn't help himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You blinked once, coming out of the trance the man had put you under with a confused raise of your brow.

"Huh?" you asked, dumbly, your mind having turned to mush in the five minutes you were staring at him.

"I said," he pointedly repeated, placing the plate down on his nightstand before standing to his full height, towering over you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Nervous, your manicured hand wrapped around your arm, the swordsman's mind immediately traveling somewhere else.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, eyes drifting away from him.

You tried to think quick, scouring your mind for some sort of excuse as he fixed his gaze on you like a predator would his pray.

You knew you couldn't chicken out now.

Especially after all the work you put into getting ready.

"You come in here..." he started, slowly pressing forward, forcing you to step back in order to keep some air between you two. "Dressed like that... just to give me a going-away present?"

You swallowed, thickly, continuing to move backward as he continued to invade your space, his eye cutting you down to size like a cat does a mouse.

"What are you trying to do?"

You turn away slightly, pulling your soft, glossy lip into a nervous bite.

"I just... wanted to look nice... for you," you muttered, resting your hands behind your back.

"Did you, now?" he cocked a brow. "Y'know... after all this time, I think I've finally got you figured out."

With a squeak, your back met the wall, forcing you to stay put as the swordsman caged you in, his muscular body leaving no route of escape.

"I think... you're a sweet girl, who's never met a pirate before, or been allowed outside the confines of this island, that thinks that she can stick it to her father by flirting with the man who is hellbent on taking him down."

Zoro raised a brow, cockily, a teasing smirk rising to his lips.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Hardly," you denied, a small air of confidence returning the wind to your sails.

It caught his attention immediately.

"I may be sweet... and you may be my father's rival... but you forget that I am I woman."

His breath hitched, eye widening slightly as you pulled yourself off the wall, taking your turn to move forward and regain some ground.

"A woman who's been lonely for quite some time... a woman who enjoys your company more than she'd care to admit... a woman who's never had more fun than in the two years you've lived in her house..."

You rested your hand against his chest, the swordsman scared you would feel his heart beating against his rib-cage.

"A woman who's found herself falling in love with the idiot that crash landed on her island..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed at your boldness, looking away from your intense, (e/c) eyes.

"You don't mean that..." he attempted to rationalize, suddenly unable to comprehend the possibility of you actually liking him.

This had to be a trick.

You were just doing this to piss off your dad...

Right?

You stared at him with hooded eyes, flashing him a bashful, crooked smile that nearly had him melting into the floor.

"If I didn't... do you think I'd be standing here right now?"

The floodgates were opened.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Zoro roughly yanked you forward, pulling you into his chest as you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, holding himself back by the thinnest string of his sanity. "If we do this... there's no going back. And after tomorrow, you won't see me for who knows how long..."

He looked you up and down, giving you a stare that would make any woman weak in the knees.

"You gonna be okay with that?"

Seriously, you nodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes that nearly set his heart on fire.

"Alright, then... no holding back."

And he took "no holding back" with the utmost seriousness, managing to make you cum three times throughout your night in his room.

The first time was on his couch, coaxing you to bend over and let him massage and spank your soft, jiggly ass, which he swore was heaven sent when he plunged his tongue into your velvety folds, relishing in your soft moans and desperate grinds into his face.

The second time was in his bed, your legs pinned down onto the mattress while he tailed you, his cock plunging in and out of you as his arms wrapped around your body, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable while he dicked you down, feeling feral at the sight of your smooth tummy and soft tits.

The third and last time—because your virgin self simply couldn't take anymore—was when he bent you over and fucked you from behind on the foot of his bed.

His hands held your hips while he leaned over, physically holding you up on your jelly-like legs.

Your hands frantically fisted the sheets as he pounded into you, his firm thighs meeting your ass cheeks as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

Because, to him, there wasn't.

"F-Fuck! Oh, my God! Right there!" you sobbed. "Yes, please! Right there!"

He watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, loving how soft you felt pressed against him, and how you sounded moaning from the lips he'd been kissing all night.

"Nuh-uh," he huffed in your ear, leaning down to nip at your lobe. "S'not God that's doin' this, pretty. Who's really makin' you feel good?"

"Zoro!" you moaned, a pitiful whine following after. "H-How are you so good at this?"

He grinned, becoming cocky at seeing you lose your mind on his dick.

"You tell me," he teasingly ordered. "How good am I?"

SMACK!

The sharp sound of his hand connecting with your ass cheek made you let out a harsh groan of pleasure, your pussy clenching around him.

"So good!" you gasped, the sensations too much.

Feeling you tighten around him, Zoro let out a harsh grunt, fighting off the moan ready to leave his lips.

"Christ... body's so fuckin' perfect," he groaned, kneading one of your tits in his calloused hand as he sped up, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. "Look at you... so damn pretty."

"Oh, Zoro! I can't!" you moaned, bottom lip quivering at the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. "I can't...Z-Zoro, m'gunna! M'gunna—!"

"You gonna, gonna what?" he chuckled. "You wanna cum for me again?"

You pathetically nodded, forcing his grin even wider.

"So greedy..."

But so was he.

He would fuck you all night if he could, but he was reaching his limit same as you.

"Cum for me, (y/n)," he ordered, huskily, as he leaned down to your ear, slamming into you harder and you frantically rubbed your clit. "I'm close, too. Rub that little pussy and fuckin' give it to me, baby!"

It doesn't take long for him to blow his load inside of you, flooding you with cum that dripped down your thighs.

His moans of pleasure triggered you, causing your pussy to quiver and flutter around him as you came.

A moan of his name and a few swears left your lips as you rode it out, coating his cock in your sticky juices.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you in a tender moment of bliss.

Pressing his lips against yours, his hand came up to cup your cheek, the embrace feeling like nothing short of a goodbye.

When your highs finally subsided, Zoro gently pulled out of you, making your pussy spurt out his cum.

The sight nearly made him hard all over again.

'Fuuuuck...'

"Sorry," you groggily apologized, already half asleep as you laid down, your half-lidded, (e/c) eyes still sparkling in the moonlight.

Amused by your fucked out state, he scooped you up, effortlessly, carrying you up to the head of the bed and placing you down among the pillows.

With a yawn, he climbed in with you, stomach faintly fluttering as you rested your head on his chest, nuzzling tightly into his side.

"M'gonna miss you, Zoro," you softly said into the quiet, dimly lit room, "...A lot"

Carefully, he rested his hand on your back, his thumb drawing mindless circles into your skin.

As much as he loved this—your company, your touch, you—he knew that come morning, he would still have to leave.

He had a dream, and an obligation to the family he called his crew.

He couldn't just abandon that.

His brows furrowed, a look of determination settling on his face.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make you a promise.

"I'll come back for you," he stated, plainly, without a doubt in his mind. "When I'm the Greatest Swordsman... and when Luffy's King of the Pirates... I'll come back for you. And I'll take you out to sea, and show you all the places you read about in your books."

Looking up at him, your sleepy eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, nearly turning him into a puddle.

"Really?" you asked, adorably.

With a nod, he pecked a soft kiss on your hairline, before leaning back into the pillows.

"Really."

BONUS!!

"Oi, Chuki!" Zoro called as he walked through the ruins, knapsack thrown over his shoulder. "Come out here! I gotta talk to you about somethin'!"

The swordsman had left his room in the wee hours of the morning, managing to wiggle out your grasp and clean himself up before placing a tender goodbye kiss on your forehead, leaving you to sleep.

The previous night introduced some new feelings to him, and if he was going to get a lick of sleep out at sea, he needed to take care of one final thing.

"C'mon! It's about (y/n)!"

At the sound of your name, the large humandrill immediately showed himself, jumping out from behind a stone column with a loud whoop, which sounded eerily like what's wrong.

"With me gone... and with Hawk-Eye on his trips for the Navy... (y/n)'s gonna be on this island all by herself," Zoro started, brows cinched together, seriously.

This was the only thing that was going to quell his worries.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the next few years, but if any pirates, or even the World Government, come stickin' their noses around this place... you send them flyin', you understand?"

Using the handle of his sword, he pointed toward the castle, where you slept peacefully, safe and secure.

"No one goes near her. No one even makes it to the castle. You fight like your goddamn life depends on it, alright? 'Cause it does."

Surprised, the monkey swallowed thickly, especially when the swordsman's eye landed on him with the harshest glare he had ever seen.

Even harsher than Mihawk's.

"I come back here and find out that she got hurt on your watch... you, and all of your monkey pals, are finished... Understand?"

Frantic, and terrified, Chuki chittered in agreement, rigidly saluting the man for confirmation.

With a proud grin, Zoro nodded, continuing on his trek to the shore as he waved to the baboon, along with the hundred others fearfully watching from the trees.

"Good... I'll see you guys around."

[balrogballs]

The Clean Break

a little take on Aragorn and Elrond’s final meeting, a removed scene from Cast in Stone (no context required; it’s canon compliant) that I liked too much to toss.

Aragorn was Estel when he broke his wrist, somewhere between five and six years old. It was a perfectly ordinary break, which happened for a perfectly ordinary reason: he had been running about on a wet floor, slipped, and crashed over a threshold. Elladan and Elrohir had come running at his wails, picked him up and took him to Elrond.

He remembers how Elrond explained to him that it was a clean break, and a very small one — it would stop hurting in a few days if he kept it still. The twins, those ardent connoisseurs of broken bones, had kept up a steady stream of joking patter to distract him whilst their father slowly applied a pain-relieving poultice and began to wrap up the wound.

Estel had been sobbing and sobbing, regardless of how mild the injury truly was. He was only five years old, and was more frightened than hurt, because he had never broken a bone in his life and he did not understand what everyone was doing, did not understand why his arm was being covered in white cloth, and it did hurt quite a lot, so he wailed.

And at some point in the process, he remembers looking up and realising that his father was crying too. Elrond hadn't made a sound, but his cheeks were awash in silent, indecipherable tears. Aragorn remembers how his expression didn't change at all, blank and beautiful in the white afternoon light: wrought from stone like a weeping statue, a quiet miracle, a promise of faith.

He remembers Elladan's tense, barked-out "Ada! What is it? What is wrong? You said it’s a clean break!"

And Aragorn remembers how Elrond had sat back on his heels and smiled, the motion pulling his features back into familiar lines. He remembers sitting silently, watching the last tears fall down the marble face, as Elrond said: "hush, my boy, you will scare Estel. Nothing is wrong, it is only a clean break. He will be fine tomorrow."

"Then why are you in tears?" Elrohir had asked, equally worried.

"Oh dear, am I? Aha, I am. Truly, it is only because he is," Elrond admitted sheepishly, sniffing. He had stroked a lock of hair back from Estel's face, laughing self-consciously, and his voice shook only a little. "I hate seeing him in pain. It breaks my heart seeing him cry so ceaselessly, even for such a small cause. It is only that, Elrohir, do not worry."

At the time, the twins had laughed, teased their father for his softness as they often did, made so many jokes about it that even little Estel, who didn't really understand the fuss and at the time had just probably assumed Elrond had a broken wrist too, was laughing alongside the three of them for absolutely no reason at all. It was casual, domestic, completely ordinary and commonplace as far as his childhood went: there were funnier incidents, sadder scenes, happier conversations.

But for some reason, this one is Aragorn's first real memory. The day he broke his wrist is the scaffolding he built his life atop, the day he looked at his father and found something sacred within him.

________

"I thought for a very long time," Aragorn says, on the tallest tower in Minas Tirith, their final meeting. "About what I could give you as a parting gift."

"If it is anything extravagant," Elrond warns him, raising a finger. "You know as well as I that I will take it to mean you are offering me a bride price, and I will take deep offence."

Aragorn grins, winks: "it's actually less than worthless, financially speaking" and cackles at how Elrond actually looks somehow more offended at that option.

"And what is this less than worthless thing you are donating to the one who raised you all your life?" he raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "What castoff hand-me-down do you deign to bestow me with?”

"I know you must be weary of rings," Aragorn gestures at Vilya, winking away on Elrond's finger. "But perhaps this one may restore your faith in them."

"I am of a race that thinks nothing: jewels, lives, wars, is eternal," he continues, hair drifting over his face. "Of an old jewelry box my mother had, many trinkets were lost to time, some earrings were without a pair. And such loss of heirlooms never grieved us. After all, they were not ours to grieve."

"The oddest thing in the box was an old, battered golden ring. When I was first given the collection, I was only twenty yet already that ring was far too small for me. I thought that it belonged to a petite woman, perhaps a sister or a mother. Yet more recently, I was thinking of it and it confused me — why would a noblewoman own a cheap, plain ring? The other stones in the box were all precious, valuable, true heirlooms. When my mother died, she told me to pass them on to my children, and I will: but with this ring, I intend to disobey her."

"It was only some weeks ago, as Arwen showed me her own rings, that I realised something," said Aragorn, fishing around in his collar. "That this trinket I carry was no woman's ring, it was made to be worn by a child. You had given me one of these too, if you recall, as per tradition — on my sixth begetting day, a flat gold ring like this with my name carved into the inside. That was when I looked closer at this one, at the inscription on the inside of its hollow."

He unfastens the clasp on the chain, slips a small ring into Elrond's palm. He watches as all the blood leaves the elf's face only to be replaced by a harsh, terrible expression.

"Nothing is eternal, Ada," repeats Aragorn. "But some things should be."

"You are — you are giving me this?" Elrond's voice is strangled, eyes wide. "It —"

"I am. It is not mine to grieve."

Elrond does not say a word, does not even look at Aragorn, instead turning away and walking towards the far side of the balcony where he stood silently, ring clutched tightly in a shaking fist. Aragorn allows him to hold on to dignity.

Dignity, and a small, burnished gold ring.

It was rather battered, some of the plating rubbed off, a groove carved into it from all the times its owner tied it to a string and used it to tease cats with. It had a small dent in the frame, warping it slightly, and if you looked closely you could make out a little tooth mark, as though someone had a habit of gnawing at it. It was less valuable heirloom, more solid proof that the ancient king Elros Tar-Minyatur of Numenor, had once been a messy, careless little boy.

A few minutes pass, in which neither of them speak.

"I had nothing of him," Elrond tells him quietly after a while. "All my life, I had nothing of him at all. It had felt wrong, you see, sailing off to Numenor and demanding his possessions from his grieving children. So for five thousand years, I had nothing of him."

"But I never told you of him," Elrond's voice is searching, harsh and confused, trying to find a justification for the gift. "I had never told you of him, and yes, you had known of him from your lessons but I had tried so hard never to speak of him to you lest you, for one second, thought that I only loved you because you were the heir of Elros. You had no reason to know how I loved him, how fiercely I missed him, how I had nothing of him at all."

Elrond sounds almost angry, wrenching the words through gritted teeth like a scolding, his back still turned to Aragorn: "who made you so kind, Estel? Who made you so selfless — that you — that you give me this without ever being told — that you thought of it — who made you, boy?"

Elrond is breathing in deep, clarifying breaths and Aragorn stands there silently. He does not answer any of the fevered questions. It was Elrond, after all, who once told him over a chalkboard: stupid questions did not deserve answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Ada," says Aragorn at last, when only a sliver of sun is left behind in the sky. "Not for a moment. That is why I had… I had… that is why I had hoped we could have a clean break. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Elrond says, half-smiling as he turns back, composed again yet not entirely unruffled. "But I would rather it hurt in such a way, than it not hurt at all."

"Would you?"

"Of course," Elrond tells him, unconsciously running a finger across the flat, golden surface of the ring he had slid onto his smallest finger. "After all, the most treasured things in the world are only so valued because of how debilitatingly painful it would be to lose them."

Aragorn cannot speak. He has dawdled and delayed, pushed this parting to a cliff-edge, given gifts and made jokes, all the while waiting for a clean break that would never come for those who love like the two of them. He walks forward in a daze, and Elrond takes him into his arms and Aragorn is five again — building a life atop the scaffolding of the heart Elrond offered to him.

"I do not know what divinity made you this way," his father's voice is rough as he repeats his earlier question, but it does not break. "I do not know which of the Valar wielded the knife that carved you out of kindness. But I am glad, Estel, so glad that I know you."

Aragorn stays pressed in that embrace, shaking. He fights a sudden, absurd urge to laugh and roll his eyes, to say don't ask stupid questions, to say who made me kind? oh, I don't know, perhaps the one who loved me so wholly that he beheld a five year old's silly, childish tears, and wept that I shed them at all.

Still, he does not move: he does not want to see Elrond's face, does not want to see his own, not at this moment. Time passes, strains like molasses through linen, slowly and with great reluctance. At last, the king draws away and takes in this final image, the one who raised him standing before his son with an inscrutable expression on his face.

When he was younger, Aragorn used to think it might make it easier for his father to bend with the marred world if he learned how to be as cruel as it was, instead of taking each slap in the face as a surprise. But he understands now that whilst he wasn't looking, the marred world had bent itself to Elrond's gentleness; that it is a strength, an honest one, to be kind when the world not only abides by cruelty but insists upon it.

Aragorn cannot bring himself to turn and leave, wanting to brand Elrond’s face into the back of his eyelids with knife-hot tears. It is anything but a clean break.

“I cannot bring myself to turn,” he admits, the moonlight limning the silver in his hair. “Because when I turn, you'll be gone, and it will be the end of everything. Is this the end of everything now, Ada? Are we done now, you and I?"

Elrond smiles, looking at Aragorn in the same way he had always looked at him, every day since the moment he was put in his arms: eyes bright with unconditional adoration, unashamed pride, and a constant, total faith in him. He shakes his head.

"You and I will never be done,” he says softly; resolute. It is the only oath he ever makes.

[star2fishmeg]

can you please do prompt 12 with quinn hughes!

Thank you for requesting <3 - Merry Christmas!

FLUFF #12 "Just pretend to be my date."

📞 dialling…

She stared at him directly in the eye, blinking like a deer in headlights at Quinn’s pleading face. Quinn Hughes, the man she had known since childhood, stood the closest he ever had before, minty breaths fanning over cheeks, in front of her in his parent’s empty kitchen with his hands clasped over hers. 

“Please, just pretend to be my date. Even if it’s for the next few hours or so, you know they ask every year, and I don’t need her doing that speed dating shit again.” He begged so quiet his voice rumbled in her ears and flushed heat up her neck, heart hammering in his chest hearing his aunt and uncle’s voices announcing their arrival from the other room. “Y/n, I swear I’ll make it up to you-”

“-Okay.” She smiled as his eyes lit up brighter, a familiar pull in her chest that tugged every time she was in the room with him, like two magnets trying to meet. They’d been through this same annual Hughes-l/n Christmas event for years, since they were kids, and every year it was always his nosey aunt who asked him if he had a girlfriend, fiancée or wife yet to which he always awkwardly had to think of some excuse. 

“Quinn! There you are my superstar!” his nosey aunt’s voice rang out into the kitchen. Quinn stood up straight, arm automatically wrapping around y/n’s waist and his hand finding comfort on her hip. Something about the gesture felt alleviating, perfect, natural, y/n responding with her arm winding around his torso, palm soothing over his back for reassurance periodically. “Y/n! Oh my, you look as gorgeous as ever! Look at you both, so grown up.”

“Aha, yeah,” he forced a laugh, feeling her beady eyes flicker between himself and y/n. Y/n leant her head into him, his whole charade starting to feel less like a favour and more real with the longer they held each other. 

His aunt gasped, making them both flinch and his grip tighten. She soaked in the sight, the way that even after all the years, they still fit in each other’s figures and still looked at each other the same way. They were still the kids who would sneak off to Quinn’s room, and on one occasion, had their first kisses there. 

“You two!? How long? Tell me everything, I must know! Has he proposed yet? When’s the wedding? I have to write this down, am I getting a niece or nephew? Oh finally! Y/n, Quinn’s been talking about you for years and the way he looks at you, oh my-” 

“Caroline, relax,” y/n smiled, heart almost stopping when his thumb rubbed her hip gently, “It’s been a year, so we’re still at the start. We’ve only just discussed living together.” 

No other words were spoken, and his heart swelled, Caroline took her dramatic exit to find her husband. Quinn and y/n exhaled, bodies slumping into each other and melting into each other’s embrace, her ear pressed to his chest while her hands gave his back a reassuring rub. 

“So, you’re moving in huh? At least let me take you on a date first, show you what I can offer.” He chuckled softly, pulling away to cup one of her cheeks, her eyes glistening under the bright lights as she leant into his palm and one thousand little fireworks exploded inside her chest at once.

“Talking about me for years, huh? Damn, couldn’t even tell your best friend who you had a crush on,” she joked, catching his genuine smile creep into his face with rosy cheeks, “But a date sounds nice, I’d like that.” 

They basked in a pleasant silence between them, the world pausing in each other’s steady eyes until choruses of surprised voices echoed from the living room. Quickly, he slipped his phone from his pocket, using his free hand to text his brothers the situation before slotting it back, cupping both her cheeks with his hands and puffing his chest out. They had only a few minutes to figure out a story, but in hindsight, they’d been in love with each other for so long, it wouldn’t be that hard.

[httpvomitello]

Request: Snippets of Rhaenyra x son of Daemon and Rhea Royce throughout various stages of life as they grow up and eventually fall in love and their life leading up to the Dance. Reader is the "black sheep" of the family for lacking any and all Valyrian features and has pretty much been forsaken by Daemon who wants nothing to do with him. Mainly just fluff stuff like playing together, Rhaenyra teaching him Valyrian, him showing her around Runestone or her showing him around Dragonstone, supporting each other as they mourn the death of their mothers, flying together, etc.

Hello, hello! Hope you like it ~ ♡

Kindred Souls *⁠.⁠✧

rhaenyra targaryen x m!reader

Childhood:

The first time Rhaenyra saw him, he was sitting alone in the godswood of Runestone. A boy of six, with unruly brown hair and eyes too bright to belong to a Royce but too distant to belong to anyone else. His shoulders were hunched, his small hands gripping a stick he used to draw aimless shapes in the dirt.

Rhaenyra, barely older, was visiting with her father, King Viserys, and her mother, Aemma. She had grown tired of the formalities of her stay and wandered off to explore. It was the sight of him, this boy so strikingly out of place, that stopped her.

“You’re him,” she said boldly, stepping closer.

The boy looked up, startled but wary. “Him?”

“Daemon’s son,” she clarified, tilting her head. “He doesn’t speak of you much.”

He flinched, his fingers tightening around the stick, but he said nothing.

Rhaenyra sat down beside him, uninvited. “I’m Rhaenyra,” she said, ignoring the tension. “And you are?”

He hesitated before muttering, “(Y/N).”

Rhaenyra smiled, her young face full of warmth. “It suits you. You should come with me. I’m going to explore the cliffs.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as though trying to decipher her intentions. But then he stood, brushing dirt from his tunic. “Fine. But I know the cliffs better than you.”

“That remains to be seen,” Rhaenyra shot back, already tugging him along.

That day marked the beginning of something neither of them could name but both would cling to for the rest of their lives.

(Y/N) didn’t have a dragon, and for years, he thought he never would. Daemon never deemed him worthy of even standing before one of the Targaryen beasts, let alone bonding with one.

“You’re not less for it,” Rhaenyra said firmly one day as they sat together.

“I am,” (Y/N) muttered, tracing a crack in the stone with his finger. “Everyone else thinks so, even my father.”

Rhaenyra turned to him, her violet eyes sharp. “Your worth isn’t measured by a dragon, (Y/N). If you had one, you’d be unstoppable, but even without one, you’re more than enough.”

He didn’t believe her then, but her words stayed with him, replaying in his mind every time he felt the sting of Daemon’s indifference.

Lessons in Valyrian:

“You’re not saying it right,” Rhaenyra insisted, her nose scrunching in frustration.

(Y/N) sighed, his fingers digging into the dirt beneath him as they sat beneath the shade of the weirwood tree on Dragonstone. “It’s just a stupid language.”

“It’s not stupid,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “It’s our language. You’re a Targaryen. You should know it.”

(Y/N) looked away, his jaw tightening. “I’m not like you.”

Her expression softened, and she shifted closer to him. “You’re more like me than you think,” she said gently. “Now, say it again. ‘Dracarys.’”

“Dracarys,” he muttered, the word awkward on his tongue.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Better! Now, if only you had a dragon.”

(Y/N) snorted. “I’ll take a hawk over a dragon any day.”

“That’s because you’ve never flown.”

“And you’ve never had to clean hawk droppings out of your hair.”

Adolescence:

When Rhea Royce died, (Y/N) didn’t cry. He simply disappeared. Rhaenyra found him hours later, hidden away.

He was sitting on a ledge overlooking the sea, his knees pulled to his chest and his face blank.

“(Y/N),” she called softly, approaching him.

He didn’t turn, but he didn’t tell her to leave either.

She sat down beside him, the silence stretching between them. Finally, she said, “You'll always have my support, you know that, right?”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched. “She was all I had,” he said, his voice raw. “And now she’s gone.”

“You have me,” Rhaenyra whispered, her hand covering his. “You’ve always had me.”

He looked at her then, and the tears he had been holding back finally fell. Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he wept.

Flying Together:

“You’re scared,” Rhaenyra teased, her hair whipping around her face as Syrax shifted beneath her.

“I am not,” (Y/N) shot back, though his hands clung tightly to her waist as he sat behind her on the dragon’s saddle.

“Then stop squeezing me so hard,” she said with a laugh.

Syrax took off in a burst of movement, her powerful wings carrying them high into the sky. (Y/N) gasped, his grip tightening even further, but Rhaenyra only laughed harder.

“Look!” she called over the wind, pointing toward the horizon. “You can see all of King's Landing from here.”

(Y/N) dared to open his eyes, and the sight took his breath away. The city stretched out beneath them, the sea glittering like molten silver in the sunlight.

“It’s beautiful,” he admitted.

Rhaenyra turned her head to smile at him. “Told you.”

Confessions:

They were older now, the years having shaped them into who they were meant to be. Rhaenyra, bold and determined, the Realm’s Delight. (Y/N), steady and fierce, the forgotten son who had carved out his own place in the shadows.

It was late, the two of them sitting by the fire in Rhaenyra’s chambers. The flames danced in her silver hair, casting her in an ethereal light that made (Y/N)’s heart ache.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, breaking the silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the fire.

“About what?”

He hesitated before finally meeting her eyes. “About how I’ve always felt like I didn’t belong. Until I was with you.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, and she reached out to take his hand. “You’ve always belonged, (Y/N). You just needed someone to remind you.”

He smiled faintly. “You’ve been more than a reminder. You’ve been my everything.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in that single moment.

When they finally pulled away, Rhaenyra rested her forehead against his. “It looks like you know how to kiss.” she provoked.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, but a huge smile was on his lips. “I say the same about you, princess.”

Dance Of The Dragons

As the realm fractured and war loomed on the horizon, (Y/N) stood by Rhaenyra’s side, his loyalty unshakable. They had faced every storm together, and now, as the winds of the Dance began to howl, they would face this one too.

The council chamber of Dragonstone was alive with arguments and heated debates, the voices of their allies clashing as they planned their next move. (Y/N) sat beside Rhaenyra, his presence as steadfast as it had been throughout their lives. He didn’t speak often in these meetings; his strength lay not in politics, but in his unwavering loyalty to her.

As the others dispersed to prepare for war, Rhaenyra lingered, her fingers tracing the edge of the war table. (Y/N) approached her, his footsteps soft against the stone.

“Will we survive this?” she asked, her voice low and unguarded, a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone else to see.

(Y/N) stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the painted table before them. “We’ve survived worse,” he said, though even he wasn’t sure if that was true.

One evening, (Y/N) found her in the dragonpit, her hand resting on Syrax’s golden scales. She didn’t notice his approach at first, her face drawn and weary.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing?” she asked softly when she finally noticed him.

He stood beside her, his hand joining hers on the dragon’s warm hide. “What’s right and what’s necessary aren’t always the same.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And if we lose?”

“Then we lose together,” he said without hesitation. “But I will fight until my last breath to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

[bwat5-blog]

The Commander: Part One

**Spoilers For All of Arcane**

Thankfully, despite being perhaps the least understood and appreciated character arc in modern media, the amount of incredible material being sent into the ether defending/explaining Caitlyn Kiramman's arc for season two has become truly inspiring. In fact, it was two statements I saw being echoed across the fandom that drove me to the point I was willing to emerge from lurkerdom, and start engaging with all of you wonderful people.

"Vi was the Jinx"

"Ku Klux Kiramman"

Now any of you who have kept up with my writing know that the first one is just about aneurysm inducing to me. And as such, I have written quite a bit about it. But the second one is no less idiotic, and while I have written multiple shorter pieces addressing various aspects of her character. It is on this subject I return to you tonight, hoping to put together a more complete picture of my thoughts on her story, and continue to support the recognition of the humanity, and heroism of Caitlyn Kiramman.

Before we begin, there will perhaps be someone who reads this, who has filed the story of Caitlyn Kiramman away under the heading of "ACAB", or "Facist" in their own mind, and chosen to turn away from what lies below the surface this tale. If that is you, welcome. I would encourage you to read ahead with an open mind and heart, and to see the humanity that lies in all of us reflected in this story both good and bad. For as Desmond Tutu once said "My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together"

______________________________________________________________

The Lead Up:

At twenty-three years old, Caitlyn Kiramman's life has been altered in ways too vast to reckon with in only a matter of days. I have extensively detailed a series of events in another document specifically with the goal of showing who she is as the story develops. I will not do so again here, but below will list both the destabilizing events, and a basic rundown of who we have come to know, following this characters story.

Who She is-

Bright and curious/ we meet her as a happy and helpful young girl walking with Jayce in episode 1

Unwilling to turn on those she cares for/sitting out in the rain to speak to Jayce when her parents turned on him

Wants to protect her people/when Grayson asks what Kiramman is shooting for, we see her look out over the city

Dedicated Enforcer (believes in the system)/ When caught investigating the airship without permission, we learn she has done this before. And later that she has an ongoing investigation into the corruption of the undercity.

Open minded toward undercity/ Many examples. Kindness to large man who Vi keeps ruining when she finds him shot, she hugs Huck without reservation for saving Vi, verbally equates undercity and topsiders while caring for Vi, stands by testimony that Jinx alone was the reason for the attack even after her mother's death.

Brave and loyal/Engages Sevika immediately to save Vi's life, trades her rifle to save Vi, tries to trade her freedom for Vi's before she learns the Firelights are allies.

Destabilizing/Traumatizing events-

Survives Jinx's theft of gemstone in which six enforcers were killed.

Helps Vi escape Silco and his goons, they literally bring a building down.

First meeting with Jinx in person, attack of the firelights.

Taken by firelights, doesn't know if they are going to hurt them or not at first.

Almost killed by the sheriff after watching him shoot Ekko.

Survives Jinx's attack.

Abducted by Jinx from her childhood home, naked, while in the shower.

Bound and gagged with smiling mask at Jinx's tea party. Listens as Jinx tries to get Vi to kill her.

Has opportunity to stop Jinx, shows mercy at Vi's pleading.

Violently knocked out.

Helplessly watches Jinx fire the rocket that will kill her mother and 2 other councilors.

Summary: So, at twenty-three years of age, Caitlyn has lost her mother, been almost killed by the leader of the system of law and order she has believed in her entire life, been terrorized, abducted and nearly murdered multiple times by the same woman who killed her mother, who she possibly could have stopped. All in a matter of days. To help keep things in perspective, let's look at a few points using USA real life application.

She has only been legally allowed to drink for two years.

Based on the average, she has not even been able to drive for ten years.

Based on the average, she would graduated high school five years ago at most.

Based on the average for American college students she would be close to finishing her bachelors degree if she was in college.

Now, moving forward we are going to discuss both the grief and trauma she is experiencing. Those who have read my material have seen my stance regarding her grief. It is not different here so by all means skip ahead. It is only thanks to an insightful user who wrote an excellent post regarding her trauma recently that I realized I had been neglecting that point, so I will try to do it justice here. But we cannot move into her "down-fall" without a proper look at these two factors.

Grief-

" Zaunites live with fear of death constantly, Caitlyn loses one family member and gets to lose her mind"

" Not gonna feel bad for the oppressor when the oppressed finally hit back. #sorrynotsorry"

" So losing your mom justified becoming a war criminal?"

Folks, I've said it many times at this point and will continue to say it. Grief is not a contest. The way in which we perceive the world has to come through the filter of our beliefs and experiences. Now it can change, as we grow, and learn, and come to understand more about the wider world around us. But it's just how it works. Of course, if you grow up with death all around you, you are not going to react as strongly to the single death of a loved one. Not to say of course that you don't grieve or feel that loss, but it will be less jarring.

But for a moment, imagine you have never felt that pain. Never known the darkness of someone who used to occupy a place in your world being gone and there being nothing you can do. Oh, and for an added bonus, add the guilt of feeling like you could have saved them...

It does not erase the pain of the people of Zaun to validate that of Caitlyn. It does not deny the history of oppression and suffering of the Undercity to recognize and validate that after days of incredibly traumatizing violence, this young woman now has to reckon with her mother's violent death that she will always wonder if she could have stopped.

Trauma-

"I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever"...

"I understand now, how easy it is to hate them. One vicious act.."

*As I have stated in various posts mostly pertaining to Jinx, I am in no way a mental health professional of any kind. So anything I share is my effort at understanding through research and observation*

To begin, we need to remember how Caitlyn grew up. Wealthy, safe, and privileged. People are determined to use her upbringing to rob her suffering of any validity, but... why? Does the fact that she was raised in wealth rob her of the ability to suffer? to bleed? No, at the end of the day it means she has known a life without danger, hunger, pain and loss. And in only a matter of days, has had each of those things violently crash into her life with no way to stop it.

As I am operating from a complete layman's perspective, I am going to try and keep this simple:

Near Death Experiences- In a matter of days Caitlyn has for the first time in her life, been through a series of events that could easily have killed her. Speaking as someone who used to do a job that occasionally placed me in violent situations, and never as severe as what Caitlyn has been through, I can tell you the effects of each and everyone are quite real. According to a report from the Bureau of Justice Statistics in 2009, "Among all victims of violent crime, the two most widely experienced emotional symptoms were feeling worried or anxious (72%) and feeling angry (70%) for a month or more". A month of heightened anger and anxiety from a single violent incident. She has been through quite a bit more than that.

2. Abduction- Caitlyn was taken from the bathroom of her childhood home. She was naked when Jinx showed up, and at some point made to put on her Enforcer uniform and bound and gagged. By this time, Jinx has almost killed her several times, and killed many of her peers. And now she is here in Caitlyn's home, in a place where Caitlyn is vulnerable and all alone. Violating her sense of safety and security to the highest degree. An article from Sage Journals by David Alexander and Susan Klein lists "intrusive thoughts..hypervigilance..anger.. and depression" all as possible long term effects in victims of hostage taking and abductions, among many others. We can see all of these manifesting in Caitlyn, but to draw attention to Intrusive thoughts:

"I keep seeing three faces... but then there's Jinx... laughing.. I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever"

SEASON 2:

Okay.... that was a lot! I know, and I appreciate you if you are still here (yes even you hashtagger). But now that we have established a proper baseline and understanding of what occured in season one we can really dig into season 2 and everything this young woman goes through.

Before the attack on the memorial, it seems as though there is a chance of Caitlyn keeping her ahead above that dark water she feels rising. Even with all that has happened, she does not blame the Undercity at this time. She maintains her testimony that Jinx alone is responsible. She protests that innocents will be caught in the cross-fire when Salo wishes for war. What she could not know, is that Ambessa Medarda was already making moves to get the war she has been hoping for, and has her eyes on Caitlyn to do it.

The Memorial Attack-

The Memorial attack is the push. it is the thing needed to tip Caitlyn over the edge she had only barely been clinging to. She and Vi share a moment afterward in which Vi recognizes that this had been done for the sake of the spectacle, but Caitlyn is angry... on top of everything else she has been through, even a day to mourn her mother's passing has been tainted with violence. Her fellow enforcers lay dead all around them, as well as the bodies of their attackers mere feet from the watch statues of the deceased councilors.

And although she was not, it is entire reasonable to assume Caitlyn and Vi would assume Jinx's involvement in some way given all that happened. Caitlyn admits she is afraid... afraid that if she goes after Jinx without Vi, one of them will die. And the dominoes begin to fall as our characters are driven to betray their principles in the name of "justice"... As Caitlyn strides into the Council meeting, announcing she has claimed the role as the leader of her house, and will be leading a strike team into Zaun with 3 objectives.

Dismantle Shimmer

Apprehend Jinx

Neutralize any agents still loyal to Sico

All according to plan...

*** Sorry folks didn't intend to have to split this in two but time ran out on me. Hope to get part 2 up over the next day or so. Thanks for reading!****

[fynnlink]

First of all: Thanks and Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays to you too.

My first response was to your framing it as not having any answers to the points you brought not that said answers maybe weren't satisfying or "enough".

And I in no way mean to argue against your "being pissed off" since it's a valid opinion especially if you like Aaravos a lot. So if I in turn offended you I apologise; I merely mean to discuss and engage with the media.

Now on to the important stuff:

I agree wholeheartedly with the point regarding "external" material (outside of the main series) but I think one of the issues TDP suffers from most is too much lore/story having to be squeezed into short, 9 episode seasons which is a shame as the world building is my favourite part of the series. Thus the need to use other ways to communicate parts of the story or lore. (The image of Ziard for example and the monologue/story attached to it are freely accessible but the point stands)

Having certain expectations even "high" ones is of course more than justified and feeling upset/unsatisfied when those expectations aren't met is too. There are quite a few plotlines which have developed in a specific way or not developed at all, that have disappointed me after waiting for answers since 2018. (Damn I've started this series at 14. That hiatus, seriously, never again please)

When exactly did Zubeia say that? Or are you referring to her lines in S4 E4? Because I wouldn't call the results of Aaravos' actions/involvement before his imprisonment Revolutions but rather Civil Wars / Unrest and I think her line "A Startouch Elf, one of the Great Ones, respected and loved by all until we discovered long-hidden treachery." is more of general statement than referring to her and the Archdragons. And the crime he was punished for was being responsible for Queen Aditi's disappearance (though no one knew what exactly happened to her until Aaravos told Khessa and then Janai found out) thus causing the tensions between the Elves and Dragons to boil over and also depriving the Archdragons from ending their succession conflict peacefully. (I'm hoping that if we get Act 3 we finally actually learn about the Orphan Queen.)

As to the severity of Aaravos' punishment it is quite literally the only punishment pissible as murdering him would've just had him return at a later point and imprisoning him in any other way would be nigh important due to his immense power both in terms of magical ability and persuasiveness manipulation.

I wholehearted agree that the involvement of both the Orphan Queen and the Jailer is less than adequately explained. Like you said it makes little sense to 1) believe a random human who at the time was probably young too and 2) to entrust the entire imprisonment process to another human one who was supposedly very mysterious. It would also be interesting to know whether or not the Jailer used Dark Magic or just other means like a primal stone or inanimate objects like gemstomes.

I don't think Aaravos had enough power (as in political influence not magic) to do anything against Sol Regem overtly. As even back then Anak Arao was THE dragon prince (Aaravos calls him that in S6 E9) so one of his parents was mostly likely the current regent during Leola's childhood 2000+ years ago. And back then Aaravos seemed to live a humble(r) life away from the heavens on earth with Leola and had no sway on the council. (Though it is interesting that The Merciful One apparently cared enough about Aaravos to comfort him above the Sea of the Castout). The entire story isn't resolved but Aaravos playing the long game was him drawing it out. He, at least in part, is responsible for humans learning dark magic and thus for Ziard "blinding" Sol Regem, Aaravos was also probably involved in whatever caused Sol Regem to get angry enough to indirectly kill Aithne Solaire as Aaravos even knew about it. This to me at least is reminiscent of Aaravos' incredible quote about surviving such a terrible wound (losing a loved one) and thus suffering forever. Aaravos didn't directly attack or kill Sol Regem to prolong the Archdragon's suffering and since he knew how to easily manipulate and use Sol Regem to further his own plans. Never throw away something that could one day prove useful. It took barely any work to get Karim to do exactly what Aaravos wanted and then to use Pharos to direct Sol Regem against Katolis, Viren and Aaravos' imprisonment. (A bonus benefit which in my opinion Aaravos also planned for is that this further turned Claudia on this "dark path" when she was just beginning to question/regret it)

Personally I don't think Aaravos' line was supposed to single out Zubeia from the other Archdragons as the only/main one to BETRAY Aaravos. Both the Archdragons and Aaravos call what happened back then a betrayal (Rex Igneous' line about "Not long enough, Betrayer") the Archdragons for Aaravos' manipulations and Aaravos for the imprisonment. It's simply that she's the only one who was involved when he says it and he's addressing her and not the others in the beginning of his conversations via posessed Callum. And Zubeia has proven she's ready and willing to fight when necessary (the standoff with Rex Igneous, her fighting against the corrupted Banthers in the great bookery and her attacking Aaravos in the finale)

When does he differentiate between Zubeia and the other Archdragons, he has the lines about Zubeia being "ravishing" but back when he tells Viren about Avizandum imprisoning him him only mentioning Avizandum is, in my opinion, just the series trying to keep it simple and even in a watsonian sense Viren proved just moments prior that the names of the Archdragons aren't known to him. And he does seem to enjoy her suffering by making her face Avizandum in the finale.

Regarding the Staff of Ziard that's why I amended that Aaravos had taken the Staff not necessarily that he had stolen it.

I think the Starscraper might function as the Star Nexus and thus draws in a semi-religious following and it's made up of other Elves since the Startouch Elves "don't intervene" which is probably what inspired that part of the Celestial Elves' culture. As to why it's Skywing Elves, earlier it was said that only winged Skywing Elves live there before they changed it. Again in lore this change probably happened because some elves at the Starscraper were born without wings. But yes it is something they could expand upon hopefully if Astrid sticks around the Dragang.

There was at least one more Startouch Elf around during the division of Xadia and expulsion of the humans to the east. (Visible in the opening of S1 E1 next to what is either Queen Aditi or her daughter. And they look distinctively different from Aaravos)

100% agree. Elarion has fascinated me since the poem was first translated and has only grown more and more interesting since. It's probably too big/important and needs to be the main focus. I think Claudia's final scene might be near Elarion since it's the same place as the S4-S7 intro sequence and the mountain range and sky full of stars and nebulae looks like the one from the scene of Aaravos crying over (creating it) the Sea of the Castout.

I don't view it as the finale of the series just of the act and season. Both the way it ended and the fandom's reaction is exactly the same as when Miraculous' fifth season ended. If you view it as a Series Finale not a Season Finale then yes it leaves certain storylines and plotpoints unresolved but whether they continue the story via more seasons or novels, etc the story isn't over.

Which is not to say you're not allowed to disagree. Art and Stories and their interpretation are up to any who behold them. It's just a matter of viewing it as an end for now rather then a complete end. And since Act 3 has been planned for a while I don't judge the story without also factoring in the limitations placed upon it by Netflix at first only paying for the first three and then the next four seasons. Of course a story made for ten seasons limited to seven can't resolve all plotlines. It was always meant to have an open end to entice viewers to want the final instalment.

Ultimately I hope/want Act 3 to focus on explaining the history more in depth especially from 2000 years ago at the founding of Elarion to 300 years ago with Avizandum's reign, a more in depth look at the Startouch Elves and the Star Arcanum and 'everything' related to it (for example Stella having the Star Arcanum??) and most importantly, to me, the origin of Dark Magic and further explaining it's specifics.

All three could be tied to Elarion as the main geological focus (along with Evrkynd probably, which could even draw parallels with the first human city built in opposition/definace to "Xadia" and the latest built in cooperation and peace. Once again I'm also glad Sol Regem is just bones now because that prick deserved what he got.) as all paths converge either in Elarion or at the Sea of the Castout.

- - - - -

Unrelated Sidenote but I think Aaravos will ultimately be "defeated" by, like most other parents in the series, sacrificing himself to restore/resurrect Leola. 1) He wanted to sacrifice his life for her in the beginning but wasn't allowed/able to do so and 2) it would even be akin to a final victory for him in undoing the Cosmic Orders' plans. And it would once again call back to the series' message of Love triumphing over Hate and Vengeance and the theme of Parents giving their future for their children. And this isn't as unlikely anymore since the series has begun to make certain deaths less permanent i. e. Harrow = Pip

Narrative of Love not Strength as Aaravos can't be defeated by force alone but by appealing to his love for his daughter(s).

Depending on when this happens and whether or not the Cosmic Order feels threatened or disrespected by it it could even put the Dragang (who would probably not turn against Leola) and the C.O. at odds and lead to a resolution in which there's justice for the C.O.'s wrongful deed(s) and not Revenge the way Aaravos dies it right now.

Also it would be similar to Elves and Humans working together to return Zym and bring peace and would be poetic to now also "repay" Leola's kindness and her friendship to both peoples in the past.

wait a fucking minute...

We still don't know why and how Aaravos was imprisoned.

And what exactly his beef with Sol Reg and the other archdragons was about.

And what his relationship was with the Orphan Queen.

Oh yeah! And also his relationship with Ziard... and city of Elarion...

DID THEY JUST KILL HIM WITH ABSOLUTELY NO EXPLANATION?

I'M SO PISSED OFF

[blueflamebimbo]

CHAPTER 1: PIKACHU LEGGINGS

𓆩♡𓆪 ──"VITAMIN DARLING": KAMINARI DENKI X READER

A/N: Part 1 of "Vitamin Darling", my childhood friends to lovers drabble collection, all thanks to my love for Denki. In this chapter, we find out how you and Denki met.

Warnings: f!reader, mention of eating sand (just childhood things), childhood anxiety, mention of crying.

Word count: 541

𓆩♡𓆪 ── back to Vitamin Darling masterlist

When you're four years old, Kaminari Denki is the first person you interact with on your first day at your new kindergarten school. The children around you already seem to have lots of friends - how could they not? With you transferring so late in the year, it makes sense. It's also unfortunate, because your back feels like it's stuck to the bricks that separate the playground from the rest of the schoolyard. No matter how much encouragement the teacher tries to give you, it's no use. These children have more confidence than you can muster, and there's no way you can approach any of them.

You can hear Denki before you can see him. His wailing sobs pierce through the cacophony of yells and giggling that fills the afternoon air. They're enough to make you frown - enough to make you want to see what's going on. Denki's bright hair sticks out like a sore thumb. It's almost as obnoxious as the sounds he's making.

On legs that are kept warm in Pikachu-patterned leggings, you waddle over to the blubbering boy. His cheeks are covered in mud as his tears streak through the sand that sticks to his skin. In front of him lies an empty taiyaki-shaped plastic form next to what seems to be a taiyaki-shaped sand sculpture with handfuls of it missing.

Sand. Kaminari Denki just ate sand. The yellow-haired boy stares up at you with golden eyes and a heartbroken expression. Mistakes were made. With a frown still knitting your eyebrows together and a new-found sense of determination, you hold out a small hand. Denki sniffles and takes it.

Once you've brought the boy to a teacher and watch as she frantically picks him up to go rinse out his mouth, you calmly follow behind. It's not like you to leave a person to their own devices, especially not when they're more pathetic looking than you feel.

Denki's face is still damp from the teacher's rinsing aid when the teacher kneels to match his height and plead with him. "Please, don't do that again - that's the third time this month." As the teacher leaves, an embarrassed Denki rubs at a damp cheek.

"Are you okay?" you ask. Your voice comes out as a soft squeak - you haven't spoken to anyone in hours.

Denki nods bashfully, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His eyes are glued to your legs, and you watch as they light up with recognition. His voice is almost piercing as it bounces of the walls.

"You like Pikachu, too?!"

You look down at your leggings. Sand sticks to bottom and the colour's a little faded from frequent wearing.

"Mhm," you nod, "Pikachu is my favourite. My brother says Pokemon isn't for girls, though." The thought of your brother's incessant teasing brings a sad expression to your eyes, and Denki ends up being a lot less dense than you initially thought, because the boy is quick to hold out a hand, mirroring your earlier actions.

The smile on his face is kind, and his eyes - though still red and puffy from crying - look infinitely brighter.

When you're four years old, Kaminari Denki is your first kindergarten friend. Pikachu, as it turns out, is his favourite, too.

[uracutieraka]

awkward

I know you hurt me, but (hey) This is more than a friendship

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Iwaizumi Hajime x F!reader

Tw! Smut(ty-ish), mutual pining, being used (or so reader thinks)

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

synopsis ; Hajime heard rumors about you, and since you were his close friend from childhood, he obviously has to go out of his way to see if they're true.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

it's your third year and obviously that means rumors are still being spread by any and everyone who enjoys gossip.

this time the rumor was about you.

"She's been with over 5 of the guys on the volleyball team"

"She's had 15 boyfriends from what I heard."

A bunch of bullshit really.

You had never been with anyone.

At least that's what your life long friend Hajime had thought.

But now that he's thinking, the past year you've been really strange and distant.

Disappearing and reappearing at odd hours of the night, to strange locations.

Hajime only knows this because he has your location, naturally, he's your best friend, he's got to watch out for you however he can.

At least that's how he explained why he needed your location to you anyways.

You on the other hand, had found an interest in photographing run-down and nearly abandoned parts of your home town.

Sneaking around at 2:30 in the morning made it easier to get into these odd, sleazy places.

That was until a few weeks ago when a group of boys from the school caught you walking around a risqué club chatting with a few older men who you knew from your first year when they were third years.

And that's how you ended up in this situation.

4 large men towered over you, spouting off a jumble of questions.

“How come sawaka says he saw you mingling up with some shifty old guys at a strip joint?”

The tall dark haired boy, issei, asks. His arms are crossed and hes giving you a near parental eyebrow raise.

“W-what?” You stutter out. Genuine confusion on your face.

“You heard him! Now answer!” The tone of oikawas voice almost sounds like a whine from a child more than a demand.

“Gah! You guys dont control me!” You gather up your things and stand.

“And just where do you think youre going?” Makki now opens his mouth, but you know hes just antagonizing the situation, he probably couldnt care less about whatever you got up to in your own time.

“Away! Forever!” You say dramatically, leaving the classroom to enjoy your lunch elsewhere.

That night your phone rings, around 12:30 am.

Your eyes look up from your notebook that youd been doodling in for the past 4 hours.

Answering it a gruff voice speaks out

‘Can i come over? We need to talk.’

Iwaizumi seems upset.

‘Yeah of course, ill meet you down the street.’

10 minutes role by and you make it to the little park down the street from your house, just as Iwaizumi arrives.

He looks good, he’s starting to fill out and looks more manly than ever.

“Hey…??” You say in a questioning manner. You couldnt tell how he was feeling right now and then pit in your stomach was growing ever since he said those words.

“Your parents are still out of town?” He asks making his way past you to start the walk back towards your home.

“Yeah, for another 5 days i think? Who knows.. hah..”

Smooth, jackass, real smooth.

“Ah! Thats lame, i dont know how you stay home alone all the time like that.”

The mood lightens a bit with his goofy tone coming out slightly.

Hajime had always been the more serious one out of the two of you but that was never the case when it actually came down to being just the two of you.

He always was cracking jokes and acting like a fool, just to get a smile from you.

“Yeah, me either, i just stay up in my room now, i guess.”

“Seems boring.”

“Eh.” You shrug your shoulders, unlocking your front door.

You two make your way up to your room, not before raiding the kitchen for snacks and drinks first though.

This felt normal.

Like old times.

You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you two had hungout like this.

Over the past year you had drifted away from him, only because you couldnt help yourself.

Your once innocent thoughts about the boy youd grown up with had started becoming more and more…colorful.

The way his hands looked when writing, all the years of volleyball had definitely done good things for the man.

His arms were veiny as well as his hands.

His shoulders were broad and made him looks 10 xs more masculine than he already did.

Not to mention his voice had significantly dropped and his voice cracks had almost completely disappeared.

He was becoming a man and you were becoming a woman. And women have needs.

So instead of being selfish you separated yourself from him.

“So, you wanted to talk?” You ask, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth, sitting crisscrossed facing him on your bed.

He shifted to sit criss cross to face you now.

“Yeah, about the stuff going around school. You know, the things people are saying about you.”

“What about it? Its not true. If thats what youre wondering.”

“I mean- i didnt think so but…” you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“But you just had to figure it out for yourself?”

You knew him too well.

You saw something in him shift, a sudden energy overtook the room, one you hadn't experienced before.

He looked at you, "Yeah. You could say something like that."

"What do you mean?"

The way he looked back up at you after you had asked that sent a warm heat through your body.

"I mean, I've seen your location, why are you running around dirty parts of the city in the middle of the night? Are you really down there...doing things?" He seemed upset for second but then became stern again.

"Things? Like what? Partying?"

"I guess."

"No.," you sigh rolling your eyes as you lift yourself off the bed, reaching for your laptop. "I've been doing photography of the nightlife and shit."

He takes the laptop from you when you offer it to him, clicking through the hundreds of photos you'd accumulated over the past year.

After a bit of silence he speaks up.

"Wow, y/n, these are," he looks up at you and gives you a huge smile. "amazing! Holy shit dude! Why didnt you tell anyone about this?”

“Because i wanted it to be my own thing that i do for myself.”

He hands you back your laptop and you close it moving to set it on your desk.

A sudden change in energy yet again settles around your room.

Hajime is looking at his hands fiddling with his thumb and index finger, youre re-situating yourself on your bed when you look back up at him.

You know third year is coming to an end, which means he’s going to California soon.

You open your mouth to speak to him.

“I got into UCLA.” You say confidently.

He now looks up at you eyes wide.

“What?” He asks, wondering if maybe he misunderstood.

“I couldnt just let you go to the US without me. That wouldnt be fair y’know!”

He lifts off his side of your bed and tackles you down in a hug.

Positioning himself to hover above you now he has a giant grin on his face.

One only youve ever seen, hes goofy, and totally a sports nerd, well mannered, and sweet. This is a side of him only youve ever gotten.

“Youre not pulling my leg are you?” He give you a near-disappointed face.

“No. Im serious.”

“Ok.,” His eyebrows furrow and he turns his head for a second, a blush spreading on his face, with a huff he looks back at you. “Im…im glad youre coming. And im glad youre not out partying and getting with other guys.” He looks more serious than before.

“Other guys?” You raise a brow at him.

His face gets even redder than before.

“Well, yeah. I just figured you knew that i liked you….”

“You just ‘figured’ that i knew that you, hajime, liked me, y/n? And how exactly would i have figured that out?”

He rolls off of you now laying next you looking at your ceiling.

You’re nervous. He likes you? The guy that you’ve spent your entire life with like you…back?

“I dont know. The guys said it was obvious so there was no way you didnt know.”

You give him a blank stare into the side of his head.

“You are the biggest idiot i have ever met.”

He now looks at you, you can see him visibly shrink in on himself.

A few moments go by and you turn your head back to look at the ceiling.

“I love you.”

He sits up turning to look at you laying down.

“I love you.”

You sit up and your guys faces are so close you can see the faint scars on his face from all the roughhousing over the years.

Hes looking at you blankly, unable to comprehend that you might actually love him.

You roll your eyes at him. Knowing exactly how hes reeling in his own head.

“Im not lying, i love you.”

He gives you a raised brow.

You huff and lean in closing the distance.

He kisses you back, his hands snaking up around you, under your tshirt.

Hajime had been with a few girls before. He had told you about it, obviously.

Honestly you shouldve been more upset at the fact he was being a total hypocrite right now.

Things had heated up, he was between your legs, caging you beneath him, you had your hands in his hair, holding his lips to yours.

He was grinding up against you, you were moaning into his mouth.

Next thing you knew he was ripping your clothes off and you were pulling his off of him.

He ran himself over your wetness and let out a groan.

Pushing himself into you, you let out a loud gasp at the sudden splitting feeling.

He kissed your jaw whispering in your ear.

“You ok?”

You moaned and rolled your hips forward a bit, to signal you wanted him to move.

He began moving back and forth, slowly at first, until you begged him to go faster.

Soon he had your leg up on his shoulder and was leaning over you, leaving kisses down your jaw and neck.

“H-haji-,” he leaned up, not slowing his pace. “M’ gonna- m’gonna”

He threw his head back pulling your hips to match the pace of his thrusting, he was going deeper and harder than before, the knots were tightening in your abdomen.

“Do it.”

With that you let go, seeing fireworks fill your vision.

“F-fuck!” He pulled out cumming on your stomach.

He got up and retrieved a washcloth from your bathroom, cleaning you up.

Getting dressed again you laid back down, him in his boxers next to you.

But he was facing your wall. You felt a ping of hurt in your chest as you crawled back into your bed, where the boy you loved had just deflowered you.

“Haji-“ you spoked but stopped when you heard a soft snore leave his mouth. A sigh left your lips as you faced the other way and closed your eyes. Youd just talk to him in the morning.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Morning rolled around and you found yourself in the middle of your bed. Looking around you didnt see hajime or his things. You stood out of bed and looked to your clock.

5:45 am.

You grabbed your phone, opting to call him instead of search around for him.

No answer.

You thought back to the night before and felt sick to your stomach.

Maybe you messed everything up.

These thought filled your head all the way to school.

When you arrived in the classroom you saw him sitting at his desk. Right next to yours.

You made a slow approach towards your usual seat, eyeing him like he was some sort of monster that would spot you at the slightest movement.

Sitting down you finally turned towards him.

“Hey.” You said soft enough for him to hear it.

He looked at you then turned away quick. Not answering.

You looked down at your lap, where your fingers were twirling anxiously.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

This act kept up for 3 whole weeks. Not one word said between you two.

This was becoming a problem for your mutual friends on the volleyball team.

You had stopped coming around to practices and ignoring the other boys. It was lowering the whole teams morale.

Finally oikawa had enough and cornered you against a corner with the other 2 boys.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On.”

It wasnt a question. It was a demand.

“Nun ya.” You said crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

Maki smacked the wall next to your head leaning down to make eye contact with you.

“Tell us now.” He was dead serious.

“Fine.,” you huffed looking away from them. “Hajimeandihadsex3weeksagoandheleftinthemiddleofthenightandhasbeenignoringmeeversince.”

“Woah-woah- you and haijime WHAT?!” Now mattsun spoke up shaking his head in disbelief.

“We had sex. And then he rolled over in my bed and went to sleep. And now hes ignoring me. And hasnt talked to me in 3 whole weeks.” You were looking at your shoes, tears had finally built up in your eyes.

Oikawa put his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” it was soft spoken, unusual from his normal behavior. “Hes a dick for that. You didnt deserve that.” He patted your back and motioned for the other two boys to follow him.

They made their way to Hajimes classroom telling him to come with them for an impromptu club meeting. He followed unknowingly.

They found themselves in the club room.

Hajime in a familiar position that you had been in by the same boys just a bit prior.

Oikawa, Maki, and Mattsuwaka had evil and dangerous looks on their faces. Hajime was scared.

Mattun spoke. “Whats your problem?”

Then oikawa through gritted teeth. “Youve got some explaining to do.”

And finally Maki, “How is it you bag the hottie whos our number one supporter and somehow you manage to fumble her?” Hes popping his knuckles in a threatening manner.

Iwaizumi gave a few dumbfounded blinks then spoke up.

“I uh-,” he was cut off by the three boys leaning over him more than they were before, closing out any light from the corner he was in. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “I came really quick. And uh. Im embarrassed to talk to her.”

The three boys all exchanged glances before leaning back up.

Hajime leaned all the way back up as well.

Maki reached out and landed a hard punch to the cornered boys stomach.

“You fucking idiot!”

Oikawa now spoke, “you know, y/n thinks that you hate her? She was crying over it earlier!”

Mattsun pushed hajime towards the door.

“You better go fix this. Fucking dumbass.”

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜��

It was 8:30 pm.

Hajime knocked on your door, hoping your parents were off somewhere for work.

You answered the door.

Hajime took you in.

You had on a too large Tshirt he knew to be oikawas, one you had stolen a year prior, during a group sleepover at mattsuns.

Hajime remembered you had been baking cookies in the kitchen with the tall setter when he caked you in flour and eggs. In exchange he offered up his sleep shirt, feeling bad afterwards about the mess he made.

Looking down a pair of his own boxers sat on your hips. Folded down a few times so theyd fit you.

They mustve gotten mixed in your laundry at some point. Who knows.

“Haji! Hi!” You gave him a wide-eyed stare. Caught off guard by his sudden presence after weeks of missing him.

He looked at you then down at his feet, kicking a small rock he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking back up to you he spoke.

“Im really fucking sorry y/n.”

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

You had only seen him like this twice in your entire life.

Once when he and oikawa broke your brand new guitar that you spent a whole summer babysitting and doing odd jobs to save money for.

Hes still doing chores for his mom to this day to pay off the debt of buying you a new one.

The second time was 2 summers ago when you and the other volleyball team members went camping for a summer bonding trip.

Oikawa and hajime were sitting next to you rough housing when the black haired boys elbow flew back and hit you square in the nose.

A quick *crack* sounded on impact.

He slowly turned his head to look at you, blood rushing down your face from your nose, your nose was already purple and crooked to one side.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holyshit. Holyshitholyshit.” You panicked.

The other team members gathered around you, unsure what to do.

“We… we need to go to the hospital.” Hajime spoke up.

“You fucking broke my nose!” You were crying, trying not to touch your nose.

“Oh fuck!” Oikawa now said bring everyone back to earth.

With a rush you were in a coaches car with haijme holding you stroking your hair.

“Im sorry” was all he said to you for the 30 minute drive.

He never lived that down. But you werent too mad.

You got a free nose job and hes still paying off his debt for breaking your nose.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“Wha-“ you were cut off by him speaking again.

“I really really fucked up y/n. And im so sorry. I love you and i was embarrassed and didnt know what to do.”

“Not ignore me, maybe?” You huffed now annoyed.

“I know. Im sorry.,” he looked around then straight abck at you, now straightening his posture. “I love you too.”

You blinked a few times then began shutting the door.

He stopped you with his foot.

“Wait!”

You groaned loudly then reopened it.

“What? You really hurt my feelings and now you just want me to be like ‘oh ok, cool youre embarrassed you fucked me’ and move on?”

“No! I- i want to explain myself.”

You leaned against the door and rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

“I uh, i camereallyfastandthiughtyoudhatemeandbeembarrassediwasyourfirsttime.”

You now stood completely infront of him.

Your eyes yet again wide in surprise.

“So you ignored me because you came quick?”

He was now giving you the same dumb look you had just given him.

“Yeah.” It was quiet. Like a scolded child.

“So what? I came too, i dont know how all this sex stuff works exactly but i think were even.” You now had an eyebrow quirked up at him.

“Oh…”

“Yeah ‘oh’ you ignored me for 3 weeks because you came quick or whatever you just said.”

He now looked extremely embarrassed.

“How are you going to make it up to me?” You asked.

“Uhm,” he stood there thinking for a second. “How about a date? Tomorrow? 7pm? Wear something nice?”

You felt a smile grow on your face.

“Sounds good.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

[hannahssimblr]

The day I leave the beach feels like the last chapter of a book. I awake that Wednesday to change. The sky, which held steady and cerulean all summer, perfect, porcelain, is a mottled grey as clouds roll in over the beach. I swim, early in the morning, in a sea that is choppier than before, the waves crashing over the rocks and tossing foam into the air, and over the shore now slimy with seaweed.  

I spot Liam in his wetsuit, board in hand, and I wave. He waves back, and I have the striking realisation that this may be the last time I ever see him.

I say goodbye to Joe and Kasper at the door that morning, their PlayStation games and the half-filled bags of Doritos they never finished bundled under their arms. 

“Good luck with it all,” says Joe. “We’ll see you around.” It’s a thing you say to a person when you’re not sure you will, and as I watch them go from the window, there’s a finality to it. It’s like I’m watching them leave, not just with their games and their snacks, but with a phase of my life, too. We’ll never be together in the same way, and never be these exact versions of ourselves again. 

Shane is the next to go. After a thorough clean of the bedroom, the sheets washed and dried and put back on the bed, ready for next summer. He drops a hand onto my shoulder. 

“Good luck in Germany, yeah? Maybe I’ll come and visit.”

“You should.”

“Yeah, I might.”

“If you do, I’ll see you there.”

He nods and ducks through the door, and to his back, I shout “Good luck in college!” He lifts a thumbs up into the air, and he’s gone. 

And then there is Jen. With a click of her last suitcase, she has packed up, and in the empty house, there’s nothing to distract us anymore from the new, yet ever present rift between us. 

We’ve barely spoken since the festival. I haven’t known how to, despite her pleads, and made a big deal of getting Kasper to sit in the passenger seat during the ride home. I asked him all kinds of questions about himself, realising only then, to my immense guilt, that it was the only bit of effort I had made with him all summer. 

I spent the days between then and now away from the house. Swimming, cycling, driving into town and just looking around, reading a book while the last of the summer tourists milled about, still in their flip-flops and sun hats as though they hadn’t noticed that autumn had already taken up residence in the shadows. 

I’d come home before dark and stay in my room while the others watched their movies and played their games. One night, I heard Jen crying softly in bed. I didn’t ask her if she was okay. 

Now, once again, I avoid her as she sits on the floor surrounded by her bags, by arranging a stack of books on the shelf. One of my sketchbooks is there, complete with a thousand drawings of the summer. I leave it where it is.  

A clock ticks somewhere in the room. 

“I’m sorry you’re so mad at me,” Jen says to the back of my head. 

“Same.”

“I still think you should give me a chance to explain myself.”

I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay. Have you seen her? Have you talked to Evie?”

“No, I haven’t.”

I turn around to see her hugging her knees to her chest. She looks remarkably small like that, and her hair, which was so bright in June, has faded with the salt water and the sun, and now her brown roots are showing. 

“I think I’d like to get the bus home.” She mutters.

“That’s alright. Do you want a lift to the station?”

“No thanks, I’ll just walk.” 

I don’t argue, and before that hour is out, she, too, is gone, and I am the last man standing. 

Turn off all the lights, switches and the hot water. Store the garden furniture. Leave the fridge running. Double check ALL doors and windows are locked. 

This is all contained in a cheerful email from my father, followed by a paranoid diatribe about all the catastrophic things that will happen to the house if I fail to comply. There’s something about a potential flood or explosion in there, I think, but I barely skimmed the bulk of it.  

Thanks for the essay lmao.

I write back.

Be home at 2.

I do my last check of the house, then stand by the door for several minutes just looking at it. The kitchen, once a hub of activity with friends chatting over breakfast and a sink full of dirty dishes, is now deserted, immaculate, and quiet. I realise I hate endings. I do not want to dwell on things anymore, or be sentimental, or hang on to the past. 

I lock the door behind me and get into my car without another look back.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[serpentface]

What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Playing 3DS games after having seen the overall fandom response to release and long-term impact and the way it's looked back on and such is... bizarre, honestly? Like, maybe it's just because we got our introduction to gaming in the 3DS era, but it's incredibly strange to know that games we knew and loved and would have considered relatively mainstream just... didn't stick in people's minds.

Like, take the Gen 6 Pokemon games. Those were great games! One of the single things about X/Y/OR/AS that we don't see people talking about but that stuck in our mind was how the developers made an effort to make it so that every single Pokemon in the games prior was spread between just those four games! We remember that just the sheer variety of potential Pokemon available was enough to get us a start into challenge runs simply by virtue of how much variety could be added to a playthrough by the sheer amount of potential on offer!

We remember spending hours just... hunting around the region to figure out where those last Pokemon we needed to fill the 'dex were, wandering around to try and find Hidden Ability pokemon from Horde battles, getting to actually interact with our Pokemon in Pokemon Amie.

Yeah, there were more obscure games out there, and yeah, they impacted us as well - Pocket Card Jockey stands out in this regard, as an extremely fun game that we're pretty sure was played by maybe three people, maximum, but it's not quite the same. These were games that we played ourself! These were games we saw other people playing, that we played with people over the internet, that felt like they were well-known! We were under the impression that these were mainstream interests, not Niche! it feels... singularly bizarre to realize that, for the majority of people out there, this game was a forgettable disappointment.