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lightdancingwords · 2 days ago

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Come Find Me - Part Seven

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 5,052

Tags/Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, mentions domestic violence/intimate partner violence, mentions police work, a little bit of angst, communication problems, profanity

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Please see this post regarding future story posts.

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter Seven: Aftermath

In the weeks that followed, you went through the motions. You got up, went to work, had a quiet lunch with Doris, then went home. After Mark’s death, Beau decided it was safe for you to go back to the rental home. Though honestly, after everything, you knew you wanted to move. The sacred safety of your rental home had been violated. It would never be restored.

Your landlord was thankfully understanding. Even better, they had another property that they were willing to transfer the lease to, and cooperated in arranging the move.

You stayed busy. You finally took the self-defense classes with Jenny. You went to therapy. You did all the official meetings that a victim of a crime was required to do.

Just endless motion. You knew you were feeling the shock, the trauma. There were moments when the feelings came and you thought you’d never be able to stop crying. The memory of the gun, of seeing Mark killed in front of you, it was all so terrible.

What made it worse was that Beau had seemingly distanced himself. He did his job, took the reports, ensured you were safe in your home and then he… just… left. It hurt. Every time he looked at you, it was though you were a stranger.

For whatever reason, you didn’t tell Doris. Or ask her. You kept it to yourself. You didn’t even text him… and Beau never reached out to you.

When the first snow hit, it had been a Saturday. You saw the flurries come down through your kitchen window and found yourself longing for peace and solitude. For the snow to cover you so you could be pure and pristine again. Innocent. Without the taint of abuse. Without the stain of seeing a man killed in front of you.

The memory of that, the flashback, had you dropping dishes in the sink. The sound of the gunshot. The sight of Mark’s head exploding—

You collapsed into yourself and sank to the floor, hands sopping wet. You hated this. You hated the tears that came. You couldn’t decide if you were relieved he was dead or grief-stricken. Or both.

The sobs that caught at your throat were the worse. You’d struggle to breathe and remember the feel of his hand at your throat. God. The bruises were healing, but the memories were forever.

Your new therapist was absolutely understanding. They heard you out, provided a huge box of tissue, and never judged you for your conflicting emotions.

The only advice they could give you was the most profound: “You have to understand, Y/N, it’s not my place nor anyone’s place to tell you what you’re feeling is right or wrong. They’re your feelings. You have to be absolutely free to feel them all. It’s going to take time for you to decide what you feel about it all. And whatever you feel is yours and yours alone.”

While that helped with the mess with Mark, you still didn’t know what to do about Beau. His sudden withdrawal hurt. You missed the way he called you “darlin’”. You missed his accent. You missed his scent. You missed him.

As you sat there on your kitchen floor, the tears finally stopping, it occurred to you that instead of just waiting for Beau to come to you… maybe you should go to him. Because by God, you were never going to know unless you did something.

You stood up, dusted off your behind, and decided to do something for once in your life. You grabbed your car keys and headed out to Beau’s trailer.

Just as you arrived to the trailer, Beau came out, puzzled. “Y/N?”

That he didn’t use the endearment hurt. “I want to know why,” you said, closing the driver’s door as you got out of your car.

His head pulled back, confused. His breath wafted in the air. “Why what?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Ever since Mark… you haven’t looked at me. You haven’t talked to me. My God, Beau, you… you’re like a stranger now.”

“I haven’t—”

“Bullshit,” you snapped heatedly, storming up to him. “It’s been weeks, Beau, and you keep acting like I’m some stranger!”

Beau’s jaw clenched and let out a huff of air through his nose. “I thought… to give you some space.”

“A few days makes sense, but weeks?! I felt like a goddamned pariah, Beau!” You hated how your voice cracked, but the pain was too obvious now. He still couldn’t look at you….

“Well, hell, I just—” He cut himself off, raking his fingers through his hair. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“What?” You breathed the one worded question with absolute disbelief.

“I killed a man, Y/N.” The flurries dusted his hair, like diamonds on a beach. “I don’t regret it one bit, not since it meant I saved you. But you saw it… and that changes people.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Did… did you think I wouldn’t be able to look at you after that?”

He nodded, swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Oh my God, Beau…” You felt tears well up in your eyes, emotions thickening your voice. “You’re the one I’d always want to see. W-when I look at you, I don’t see Mark. I see you.”

”Darlin’—”

“Say that again.” Your heart soared at hearing that endearment. It meant everything to you to hear it just now and you so desperately wanted him to say it again.

He finally looked at you, really looked at you. “Darlin’,” he repeated, this time slower, more meaningful.

“You have no idea how much I miss hearing you say that,” you said, and quickly wiped away a tear with a shaky hand.

Much to your surprise, he closed the distance between you. Gently, he laid his hands on your shoulders. “It’s been killin’ me for weeks to not be able to say it,” he confessed in a soft voice.

“Were you really pulling away because you thought I wouldn’t be able to look at you?” you asked, amazed by that thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing a snow flurry out of your hair. “I didn’t want to make it worse for ya, darlin’. After all… I failed ya.”

“You what?” Startled, you framed his face with your hands. “Beau, you did not fail me. You saved me. You… God, you rescued me. Mark had every intention of killing me and you stopped him. All I had were some scrapes and bruises. I’m alive because of you.”

Beau met and held your gaze. His eyes were so inscrutable, so dark in that moment. You had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Only that he stood there in silence, your hands cupping his face.

“You’re too good to me, darlin’,” he said at last. “I’m not sure I can look at it that way.”

“How do you look at it?”

Very slowly, he ran his hands up your arms, never once pulling out of your gentle touch. “I couldn’t find him before he kidnapped ya. I can’t find your missin’ photos. And I couldn’t stop him from taking you away.”

“And you found me,” you said insistently. “You followed me and saved me. You didn’t fail me, Beau.”

“Darlin’, I—”

“No, let me finish. Please.” Beau fell silent and you continued. “The whole time he had me, I kept praying for you to find me. To save my life. And by God, you did, like a—a cowboy in shining hat.”

He quirked a smile at the description.

“You found me, Beau. I would never avoid you. H-how can I?” In that moment, you decided to take the giant step you’d been waiting for. “I’m… I have feelings for you. If I avoid you, I’ll never know what they’ll turn out to be.”

His gaze flickered up to you, surprise flitting across his face. Then his expression softened and an intensity grew in his green-eyed gaze. Tenderly, he covered your hands on his face and squeezed them.

“Darlin’… God. I’m rock headed and mule stubborn. Ya don’t wanna be with me.”

You quirked a smile as he used a similar description that Carla—via Emily—had used to describe him. “I don’t know about that… I kind of like being around you.”

His smile flashed to life and you felt your heart swell as the warmth bloomed in his gaze. “I feel like I should be askin’ ya on a date.”

Playfully, you lifted your brows at him and said, “I’m waiting.”

He grinned, squeezed your hands and brought them down off his face down to be held between the two of you. “How does dinner sound? We do it right—proper restaurant, music, the whole nine yards.”

“That’s how you ask a woman on a date, Beau? God, no wonder you’ve been single this long,” you said, teasing.

He laughed. “Nah, darlin’… just needed the right woman.”

Your heart skipped a beat, then took off racing when he continued.

“I think I found her,” he added, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Let me take you out to dinner, Y/N.”

“I’d love to,” you breathed, your voice stolen away by this man, this Texan.

“Good. Meet you tonight? Say 6 o’clock?”

You nodded. “D-do I meet you there?” Your voice shook with your pulse. He had set it off running and you didn’t think it would ever settle again.

He pulled a pained expression. “Christ, darlin’, are you trying to make me look bad?”

You had to laugh. “What? Why? What’d I do?”

“You insulted me,” he said dramatically, clutching at his chest. “A proper gentleman picks his date up from her home and brings her back.”

You knew you shouldn’t, but God, bantering like this with Beau brightened your heart. “Oh. A proper gentleman? Do you see one around here? I mean…”

“Oh, now ya’ve done it,” he said with a laugh and scooped you into his arms. You yelped clutching onto him, his move unexpected.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, breathless with laughter and surprise.

He bounced you in his arms and it was all you could do to hold on. “Showin’ ya I’m a gentleman.”

“By carting me around in your arms?” You looked at Beau and couldn’t stop smiling. To be this close to him after weeks of so little with him…. To have that whiff of earth and musk and whatever it was that made him him. To hear his voice. To just be with him.

“Yep.” He grinned at you, his eyes sparkling. He began doing a stroll around his yard with you in his arms, carried princess style.

“That’s your idea of being a gentleman?” The laughter bubbled up in your throat. He was being impossible. Hilariously, adorably impossible.

“Yep.”

“You going to say anything besides ‘yep’?” you asked playfully.

“Yep.”

You laughed again, your arm around his neck. You needed this. God, you really did. Something so absurd, so ridiculous and playful. You hadn’t realized you said it out loud when Beau slanted a look at you, the humor fading from his expression.

“God, darlin’, I’m s—”

“So help me, Beau, you apologize, and I’ll find a way to take you over my knee and spank you,” you said, surprised at the vehemence you felt and heard in your voice.

He stopped and stared at you, clearly taken aback by the way you responded. Then, slowly, he quirked a grin and said, “You promise?”

You tried to maintain a stern expression. You really did. The way he grinned at you made a giggle bubble up your throat and you gave in, laughing once more. “You’re impossible, you know that? God,” you said with a breathy sigh. “I’m really glad I came to Big Sky.”

“Me too, darlin’,” he said as he finally set you back down on your feet. “My life might’ve been more borin’, but my heart would’ve been empty.”

Your breath caught and your heart skipped a beat. In the weeks you’d come to Big Sky and met Beau Arlen, you were constantly doubting yourself, wondered if you imagined the chemistry between the two of you. That Beau plainly and clearly stated that his life would’ve been empty without you…. “Oh damn it, that was perfect,” you managed, your heart swelling with emotion.

He half-smiled. “It’d been years since my last perfect line. I figured I was due.”

You chuckled, breathy and tinged with tears. “That was a good one.”

“Good enough to make ya cry,” he murmured, gently tilting your chin up. He studied your face in wonder. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry, darlin’.”

“It’s not you,” you assured him, sniffling. “I’d never—”

“You never had a man talk to you before like that, huh?” His interruption was gentle, thoughtful. You couldn’t help the tear that fell down your cheek. He saw it and tenderly brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping it away.

“No,” you admitted. That particular knowledge stung. You hated that your romantic history was rife with issues, with bad men. Oh, they said the pretty words, but the moment they had you in their romantic trap, that all went away. You had the impression Beau meant every word and would never change that.

“I promise ya, darlin’,” he said softly, “I’m gonna keep doin’ it until you beg me to stop.”

“Let’s get the date first before you start making sweet promises,” you said with a slow smile.

“We could count this as a date?” he suggested, and there was something in his tone that had you thinking he meant it all as a joke, a playful tease.

“No!” You laughed and he grinned, confirming your suspicion. “You promised the whole nine yards, Beau Arlen. I expect it all.”

He checked his watch and his brows lifted. “Given the hour, darlin’, I’d say you best get goin’ so you can dress up.”

Your own brows raised as well. “Dress up?”

“Yep.” He smiled, a touch smug. “I intend to go all fancy, darlin’.”

Beau.

In a tux.

In that moment, it was all you could do not to swoon then and there. God, did that man know what kind of an effect he had on you?

“Then I expect you at my house at 6 sharp, Mr. Arlen,” you said, your smile and tone flirtatious.

“That’s a promise, darlin’.”

—

The sight of Beau Arlen in a tux was one you’d never forget. He was tall—absurdly, Doris’s statement that he was bony came to mind and nearly wrecked your composure—and the tuxedo was definitely one specially made as it did everything to emphasize his lean stature. He was strikingly handsome, as usual, but this time, he had his hair combed back and styled. His beard—oh my God, he actually neatened up his beard.

The double-take Beau did of you reassured you that, despite the last minute attempt to find something remotely suitable for a fancy restaurant, you succeeded. You went classic—Little Black Dress, with a thin white cardigan and a lovely little clutch.

“I’d ask if you’d be cold in that little coat of yours, darlin’, but I’m feelin’ a bit hot under the collar myself,” he drawled.

You chuckled, did a little spin in the entryway of your rental house. “I pass, then? Especially given your very last-minute date.”

“Oh, you definitely pass,” he said with an appreciative look. You felt his gaze scan over you, and your body warmed under such intense scrutiny. “And it wasn’t last minute.”

“Excuse me? You asked me out just a few hours ago!”

He smiled. “I made the reservation a week after the first time you slept over.”

You felt your heart stutter and you froze momentarily. “You… Beau, that was weeks ago. How could you have known I’d say yes?”

Gently, he took your hand in his, intertwined your fingers. “I took a chance, darlin’. I’m kickin’ myself for waitin’ this long, and I apologize for that, but the look of you that mornin’….” Absurdly, you remembered the way he slanted a look at you. “You were beautiful. All sleep-mussed, the sun lighting you up.”

“Beau…” You breathed his name like a benediction. He drew closer, close enough for you to get whiff of his cologne, subtle and sweet.

“I’m sorry I waited ‘til you came over and told me what for, darlin’.” His green eyes met yours and your heart somersaulted. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d like to wine and dine you as I always wanted to.”

“When you put it that way, Mr. Arlen,” you said with a slow, sweet smile, “how can I say ‘no’?”

“Good. Let me get you in the truck before ya freeze to death.” As he escorted and assisted you into the truck, he paused and blatantly looked over your legs. “By the way… darlin’? You got some damned killer legs.”

You laughed, your cheeks heating up. “Beau!”

—

He took you to Big Sky’s sole fine dining, a delicious Italian restaurant amusingly called Ciao Bella. You stared at the name of the restaurant and turned a baffled look on Beau. He grinned in amusement. “Don’t ask, darlin’. You work at The Big Guy. You really wanna judge?”

You laughed and conceded he had a point.

Beau definitely did everything he could to make the experience a beautiful one. He escorted you to the table, held out the chair for you. He asked the waiter for a recommendation for the entree, one that you ended up picking, and went all out in ensuring the white wine paired with it was to your liking. Once the server received the orders and left, his focus on you had you feeling as though you were dining at home, not in an exquisite restaurant.

“How do you do that?” you asked, amazed.

“Do what, darlin’?”

“Make me feel like I’m the only one here. The only one who has your attention.”

“Because you do and you are,” he said, leaning forward to take your hand in his.

“Another perfect line. You’re on a roll, Arlen,” you teased, softening at the way his thumb caressed the back of your hand.

“Yeah? Two in a day? Damn. I’d say I should buy a lottery ticket after this…” He brought your hand up to his lips and lightly kissed your knuckles. “But I already won.”

Your breath caught at the sweet gesture. “That’s three,” you said in a low, soft voice.

He winked. “I know.”

“You weren’t kidding about wining and dining me, Mr. Arlen,” you mused, amazed at your luck. What had started as a difficult day was ending on such a glorious note, you never wanted it to end. Who knew finding your voice at last would lead to a date with Beau at Big Sky’s fanciest restaurant?

“I’m only just gettin’ started.”

Your smile was warm, a touch playful. “You’re setting a high bar for future dates.”

“You think it’ll happen?”

“What? A second date?” He nodded and you pretended to think about it, long enough for him to do a warning of “Darlin’”. “Yes. A second date. Quite possibly earned a third with this wine. It’s delicious. How on earth did you ever learn about wine?”

“Don’t look so shocked, darlin’,” he said in amusement. “I know stuff.”

“Says the man who said ‘stuff’ in the most exaggerated Texan drawl I’ve ever heard,” you said, your voice bubbling with laughter.

He grinned. “I get what you mean, darlin’. For me, the best date would be a beer around my campfire.”

You paused, then asked carefully, “The night I came over… was that—”

“A date?” You nodded, not minding the interruption. He swirled the white wine in his glass, thoughtful. “I wanted it to be.”

“Beau…”

“The only reason it wasn’t, darlin’, was because you needed a friend that night more than you needed a boyfriend,” he said gently.

“What if I wanted it to be?” He lifted his brows questioningly. “What if… I want that to be our first date? And this… our second?”

He smiled slowly. “I’d say I’m a damned lucky man to get two dates with you.”

“You keep swearing,” you teased.

“Don’t tell Emily.”

You laughed, low and soft. His grin widened. You loved that you could go back to old conversations, bring them forward in beautiful reminders. Much like the threat to spank one another, though God, you never knew such a joke would become regular thing between the two of you.

The entree, spinach and ricotta gnudi with tomato-butter sauce, was so delicious, rich in flavor. You ended up letting Beau have a few forkfuls while you stole some of his braised chicken all'arrabbiata, which turned out to be spicier than you expected.

“Beau, this was delicious,” you said as you dabbed your lips.

“You’ve got to stop sounding so surprised, darlin’,” he said with a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I know I sound like some redneck hick, but I’m a learned man. You keep this up, I’m gonna start gettin’ offended.”

“It’s not your accent,” you said with a defensive laugh.

“Then what?” He leaned forward, caught your gaze and held it. “What is it about me that keeps surprisin’ you?”

You were quiet for a moment. “Because I haven’t had anything this nice in years,” you finally admitted in a low voice.

He gave a start. He’d forgotten. You could tell, by the way he reacted. Beau had forgotten, and you weren’t sure if you should be relieved or worried. Relieved, because you didn’t want to be handled with kid gloves. Worried, because he also had to remember that certain topics, certain discussions, could be potentially upsetting.

“Do you mind, darlin’, if I ask?” he ventured carefully.

You knew what he wanted to ask and shook your head. “Go ahead.”

“When was the last time M—your ex took you somewhere nicer than an Olive Garden?”

You thought on that for a long moment as you took a sip of the white wine. It really was a delicious choice. You found yourself itching to find out what kind of white wine it was… and how much it cost. Then you realized you were distracting yourself from the unpleasant memory and changed mental course.

“My birthday,” you finally answered. “It was my first birthday while we were dating, and he—” you decided you weren’t going to use your ex-boyfriend’s name— “decided to take me to this rather nice French restaurant. He butchered every pronunciation in the book, but claimed he was just trying to impress me.”

“How long was that?”

You frowned in thought. “Five… maybe six years ago?”

His brows drew together. “Darlin’… I’m not a rich man—”

“I never asked—”

He shook his head and continued despite your attempt to defend yourself. “I’m not a rich man,” he said firmly, “but if I were, darlin’, I’d take you here every night. Hell, every day if I could.”

You sat on that for a moment, and couldn’t suss out what he truly meant behind that. “I’m not sure how I should take that.”

“Then I’ll be honest. It’s real crappy your ex didn’t spoil you. You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve all the good things in the world.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Do you think I’m that… greedy? O-or a gold digger?”

“What? Oh shit. No, darlin’.” He rubbed his forehead. “God. See? Three perfect lines and there goes my damned luck.”

You managed a faint smile, though you were still well and thoroughly confused by what Beau was trying to say.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re a gold digger, darlin’. I’m just sayin’…” He took a breath, and you could almost see him reorganize his thoughts. “I’m sayin’ you should’ve been treated better. I know I made it sound like you should get fancy restaurants and expensive wine. I only meant… you deserved better. Kind gestures should be a part of the norm, not nice surprises.”

You tilted your head as you weighed everything you knew of Beau against one horribly made declaration. Beau seemed to know he went off on an awful take, one that slandered your character, and was trying hard to make amends.

“‘Kind gestures should be a part of the norm, not nice surprises’. I think you got your fourth perfect line,” you said at last with a gentle smile.

“I was sweatin’ bullets there, darlin’,” he said with a huff. “Am I soaked? I feel like I should be soaked.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Beau smiled and reached over to take your hand in his. “I wasn’t tryin’ to imply you’re a gold digger, darlin’,” he added. “Just that… I may not be a rich man in the bank, but by God, you make me feel wealthy.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Yeah? You think it makes number five?”

“You’re definitely on a roll there, Beau,” you said with a warm smile.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” he said, his voice taking on a husky tinge. You felt a thrill down your spine, and sensed he meant more than just perfect lines.

“How do you mean?” You decided to press, wanting to know what he was thinking.

He glanced down at your joined hands on the table, at the gentle way he kept rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “Darlin’… there’s a part of me that really wants to take you to my home and have my way with you.”

Your heart stopped, then thudded painfully against your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or out of desire, out of hearing him voice that wish of his.

“And that’s the reason why I won’t,” he said with a nod to you. “That look that just passed over your eyes.”

“Beau, I—I—”

“Don’t, darlin’. I ain’t offended. You’re not ready. I can wait.”

You sat there for a long, quiet moment as you took all that in. How rare a man was he that he’d wait until you were ready for him to take you to bed? Especially one who saved your life, one who knew a portion of the darkness you’d been through?

“It’s…”

“Darlin’, you don’t have to explain.”

“I feel I need to. Because part of it is such a stupid, vain reason.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You had suspicion he knew exactly what you were going to say and was mildly offended already. Before you could continue, he spoke up. “Do you know what goes into a file, darlin’? It’s not just written complaints, documentation of calls and meetings. When it comes to acts of violence, we need to see photographs. Sometimes videos. Audio recordings.”

You froze, your breath hitching. You actually heard a small simmering of anger in his voice, and almost cringed in your seat. You definitely offended him and instantly regretted your statement of vanity. God, why did you have to be so stupid?

His gaze searched your face and he shook his head. “I ain’t mad at you, darlin’,” he said, and you wondered if he read your mind. “I’m mad at him. He got ya to think that I’d care you have a scar. That I’d want you to have some model perfect body to be worthy of me.”

“So you…” He said photographs. Dimly, you recalled your stay at the hospital, how they had some officers come over and ask to take photographs of your lower abdomen for evidence. You’d forgotten. “Oh my God. So you know.”

“Not everythin’, darlin’, but that one, yeah, I do.”

“A-and you don’t… it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it, darlin’?” He seemed honestly puzzled. “It’s a scar. It’s a badge of honor for ya. You survived that sick son of a bitch, and not only that, ya fought back.”

“Do… do you have any scars?”

He flashed a grin at you, designed to soften the intense moment. “I’d be glad to show it to you sometime.”

Absurdly, you blushed as you laughed. “If it’s on your rear—”

“Nope.” He smirked and winked at you. “Wrong side.”

“Beau!”

The night was winding down when he escorted you back home, to your front door. Sometime during the dinner, the snow came back in force. Beau’s truck thankfully handled it and he was able to pull up as close as he could to the front door.

“So much for dancin’,” he said ruefully.

“Where did you have in mind?” you asked as he walked you the last few steps.

“Right here. Maybe some nice oldie playin’ on the radio.”

You smiled. “That sounds very romantic. I expect you to follow through when it’s springtime, Mr. Arlen.”

“Since when did ya start and keep callin’ me that anyway?” he asked, lightly brushing back a strand of your hair.

“I was kind of copying Pride and Prejudice,” you said, lightly teasing him.

He smiled. “Am I Mr. Darcy then?”

“I’d say ‘yes’, but there’s one small problem.”

“What’s that?” He drew closer to you, so close you could feel his breath dance over your lips.

“They don’t kiss in Pride and Prejudice,” you murmured, your gaze flickering from his green eyes to his lips.

“Guess we’ll rewrite the book,” he whispered, and brought his lips to yours, capturing you in a sweet, tender kiss. He lingered in the embrace, slipping his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You let out a soft sigh, and he deepened it, a slow heat that spread throughout your body. You no longer felt the snow, the chill. All you felt was him.

When he slowly broke the kiss, you felt dazed. He brushed back your hair again, his gaze deep and dark. “Have a good night, darlin’,” he whispered.

“You too, Beau.”

He waited until you were safe inside before he headed back to his truck. When he pulled away, you realized that, yes, this was definitely not going to be the only date you ever have with him.

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ak319 · 2 days ago

Text

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

PART XI ➺ Prev

tag: @nayykura

The door to your shared chambers clicked shut behind you with a finality that made your chest ache. Kade didn’t say a word at first, her silence looming over you like a heavy storm cloud. An awkward silence ensued as you remained in front of the vanity taking off your coat and bracelet.

Kade leaned against the door for a moment, her hazel eyes sharp and unreadable as they fixed on you. Then, her voice cut through the silence. “You’re upset.”

You scoffed, still staring at the floor. “Upset?” you echoed, your voice low with simmering anger. “That’s one way to put it. Humiliated might be a better word.”

Kade pushed off the door and crossed the room with slow, measured steps. “Deniz,” she began, her tone softer now, but it only grated on your nerves more. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t mean to?” you snapped, finally looking up at her. “You shushed me like I was a child, Kade. In front of your family. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Kade straightened, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. Her presence, so commanding even in its restraint, sent your nerves into overdrive. “You embarrassed yourself first,” she said, her tone calm but cutting.

"You don't get to dictate what I say or DO! I am not five!" You slammed your watch on the dressing before moving to the walk in wardrobe. The door which was about to be slammed was stopped by her hand as she pushed in inside , and threw it back behind her, trapping you with her .

"Calm down. I was there discussing something important. I was doing it FOR YOU! You think I don't fucking see how he insults you and taunts you!? This family can be ruthless as fuck to the outsiders! And you have only seen the glimpse of it! SO LET ME DO THIS FOR US!"

Your steps backed away as you flopped on the small loveseat , your chest shaking with sobs.

"You could’ve said something afterward. Privately. But you didn’t. You just let me sit there, feeling like I’d done something wrong."

Kade exhaled, her shoulders dropping as if the weight of her own actions had finally hit her. "You’re right, love, I am sorry." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I should have. I let my frustration get the better of me. But, Deniz…” She stepped closer again, cupping your face gently, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I need you to trust me. Even when it doesn’t make sense, even when it hurts. Because everything I do, it’s for us.”

Her hand reached for yours, but you pulled back, stepping away as anger bubbled to the surface. “Stop pretending this is about protecting me,” you said, your voice breaking. “You embarrassed me, Kade. Get the fuck away . You made me feel small in front of your family. Do you know how that felt?”

Kade’s expression softened slightly, the rigid lines of her face easing as she reached for you again, this time slower, gentler. “You think I wanted to hurt you?” she asked quietly. “You think it doesn’t tear me apart when I see you upset?”

You refused to let her words weaken your resolve. Standing up abruptly, you wiped at your face, brushing away any trace of vulnerability. “Fine then,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold your ground. “Explain what the fuck you meant about family.”

“Family?” she echoed, tilting her head with a deliberate air of confusion.

“Don’t act dumb,” you snapped, your anger cracking through the tension like a whip.

Her frown softened, but not into an expression of understanding. No, it was something far worse. Disbelief. Mocking disbelief, as if you’d accused her of something utterly ridiculous.

“Um,” she began, her tone dripping with exaggerated innocence, “I don’t know what you think you heard, darling, but I simply stated a fact.”

The way she said "darling" twisted the knife in your chest. Your silence, sharp and deliberate, only seemed to encourage her, her hazel eyes lighting up with the faintest flicker of amusement.

That flicker made your stomach churn.

And there it was. That familiar tactic. She’d deploy it like clockwork, the way she always did. To make you crumble beneath the weight of her facts, no, her orders. Words you would have no choice but to accept, sooner or later.

Another chapter in her story. Another headache for you. And yet, she carried on without pause, as if this wasn’t breaking you piece by piece.

“And since you’re so curious,” she began, her tone laced with the kind of patronizing patience that made your skin crawl, “I’ll clarify. Family means responsibility. It means building something, someone, who carries the legacy forward. It’s what’s expected of us, of you.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. You stood frozen, your mind racing to process the implications. Kade’s sharp gaze lingered on you, waiting, almost daring you to push back.

She leaned in slightly, close enough that her presence seemed to fill every inch of the space between you. “This isn’t about what you want, Deniz. It’s about what you owe,” she said softly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It needed to be addressed anyway."

You felt like you were about to faint at the mere thought.

The slight curve of her lips, the gleam in her eyes, it was all calculated. She thrived on the control, the way each truth she laid bare chipped away at your resistance.

It wasn’t just another conversation. It was another victory for her. Another reminder that in this twisted dynamic, she always managed to stay one step ahead.

“No!” Your voice erupted before she could finish. “No, no, no!”

“Quiet-”

"YOU HAVE LOST IT!" You stepped back, your chest heaving as the words tumbled out like a dam had burst. “Me?! Having kids with you?! I don’t even know if I want kids! I’m not fond of them! And even if I ever decided, ever, to have them, it wouldn’t be with you!”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ragged breaths you struggled to steady. Kade’s face darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line, but it was her eyes, the cold glint in her hazel gaze that made your skin prickle.

“Are you done?” she asked, her voice dangerously low, the calm before a storm.

"Fuck it - I've HAD IT TODAY!" Before you could unlock the door her hand shot out, grabbing your arm and propelling you backward with a force that left no room for protest. You stumbled, your back colliding with the edge of the cupboard. The sound of wood creaking under the impact filled the room, and your heart raced as Kade moved in closer, pinning you in place with her towering presence.

Her hands planted firmly on either side of you, trapping you between her and the polished wood. "Say that again," she demanded, her hazel eyes narrowing with a mixture of fury and something far more unnerving determination. “Tell me how you’ll never have children with me. Go on, Deniz. I dare you.”

Your breathing was uneven, but anger pushed through the fear as you glared up at her. “I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to! I. Will. Never. Have. Kids. With. You!” you snapped, your voice trembling but defiant.

Kade’s lips curled into a humorless smirk, one that sent a chill down your spine. “You think shouting at me will change anything?” she asked, her voice softening into something far more chilling. “You can scream until your voice gives out, but it won’t make me let this go.”

She leaned in, her face just inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about you, Deniz. This is about us. About the future we’re building together, whether you like it or not."

You squirmed, trying to push her away, but she pressed you back against the cupboard, her grip firm yet not painful, just enough to make it clear that you weren’t going anywhere. “Let me go!” you demanded, your voice cracking under the weight of the situation.

Her hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face in an infuriatingly gentle gesture that contrasted sharply with the intensity in her eyes. “No,” she said simply, her voice steady and unwavering. "I won’t let you run from this, Deniz. From me."

The defiance in your gaze faltered for just a moment under the sheer weight of her presence, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. “You can’t control me, Kade,” you spat, the words sharp but trembling. “I’m not some accessory for your perfect little life!”

Her smirk widened, though it still lacked any warmth. “Oh, but you are mine,” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with certainty. "And I don’t let go of what’s mine. Keep that in your mind. Got it? Don't take it easy with me. I can be rough when I wanna be.."

Your body instantly froze at her implication , throat going dry and if she didn't let go of you that moment, you were seconds away from collapsing. The room now filled with her absence made you finally breathe as you slid down against the cupboard.

The pounding in your head returned, stronger and more relentless than before, as tears spilled down your cheeks. You buried your face in your hands, feeling every emotion crash over you, fear, anger, helplessness all consuming you at once.

Hours passed in that spot, the weight of her words echoing in your mind. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even try to stand. The realization of what your life had become held you captive, as if standing would make it all more real.

From the other room, you could hear the faint sound of Kade settling into the bed. She didn’t return to you, didn’t check on you. It was as if she was content letting you sit there, shattered, to process everything on your own. Perhaps she thought it was for the best or perhaps she simply didn’t care.

And so you stayed, huddled on the floor, your breath ragged and uneven as you tried to piece together what was left of your resolve. Meanwhile, she slept outside, her control over you unshaken, her presence lingering even in her absence. She hated leaving you like this, but to her, it was necessary. Necessary to let it all sink in.

Necessary to remind you of her power.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

The next day passed in a haze. Kade was immersed in her routine, her confidence and composure unshaken, while you buried yourself in whatever scraps of normalcy you could find. You avoided her, avoided the heavy silence that her presence brought.

But it was no use. The weight of it all followed you everywhere.

"Enough!" you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. Ruby, the makeup artist, flinched, pulling back her brush mid-swipe. Her wide eyes darted to yours in alarm.

"I--I can do it myself," you stammered, your fingers trembling as you gestured toward your face. "No, I think it's enough. Sorry..." You stood abruptly, brushing your hands down your clothes as though trying to smooth away the awkwardness that now hung in the air.

Embarrassment clawed at your chest as the others in the room exchanged subtle glances. They said nothing, their gazes avoiding yours, but you could feel the unspoken words lingering in the space between you. They understood, somehow, maybe not the details, but the emotions you wore like armor. Ironic, wasn’t it?

The ones outside these gilded walls, who didn’t know the weight of the locked doors and whispered threats, seemed to recognize your struggle. Whether they chose to ignore it or silently sympathized, at least they never pressured you. They left you space to breathe.

But the ones inside, the ones who shared those suffocating halls with you, always found a way to twist the knife, to exploit the cracks in your resolve. Each interaction felt like a fresh wound, another reminder of the control you couldn’t escape.

Katie’s voice broke the silence, her tone polite yet efficient. “It’s alright, your Highness. I’ll order some tea for you, ma'am.” She immediately took charge, gently ushering Ruby and her team out of the room.

The door clicked shut, and the muffled sounds of the bustling palace beyond faded. You were left in the quiet of the room, alone with your thoughts. You glanced at the clock, just 15 minutes until the garden party started. Another pointless event in a long line of them. Stupid parties.

Katie, seemingly unaware of the storm swirling inside your mind, continued with her duties, her voice respectful but distant. "Um, ma'am, tomorrow there's another event. A match for the Vitality Blast cricket league. You’ll need to attend, and the departure time is set for 11 a.m."

You didn’t respond right away, letting her words hang in the air. Another obligation. Another show to put on.

"Very well," you finally said, your voice cold and distant. The words were mechanical, as if they weren’t yours to say. You didn’t care for the game. You didn’t care for the royal appearances.

The moment the tea was placed on the table, the familiar scent of it filled the room, but instead of offering comfort, it twisted something deep in your stomach. You couldn’t bear the thought of drinking it, the mere smell of it nauseating you. Without thinking, you pushed the chair back and quickly stood, your legs shaky as you moved toward the door.

Just as you reached for the handle, it swung open, and there she was , Kade. Her presence loomed in the doorway, tall and imposing as always, her gaze soft but predatory.

"Is my wife ready? Oh, there you are. Looking perfect as always, love."

Before you could say a word, she was beside you, her arm slipping around your waist, guiding you forward. You stiffened under her touch, the heat of her skin pressing against yours, but you didn’t have the energy to fight back. She didn’t seem to notice or care.

Her eyes flicked toward you as she led you out, a soft but unreadable expression on her face. She was walking beside you as though nothing had happened the night before, as though her cold words and the way she’d gripped you hadn’t left marks, both physical and emotional. The smoothness of her stride contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"You look absolutely perfect, darling," she continued, her voice far too sweet, as if she were complimenting a doll, not a person.

The garden was just ahead, the sound of guests talking and the soft clinking of glasses waiting for you. You could almost feel the eyes of the others watching, and the realization hit you again: this was your life now, a life under her control, her rules.

You tried to steel yourself, but the more you felt her hand on your waist, the more your own discomfort grew.

As you and Kade made your way toward the garden, the sounds of light chatter and laughter grew louder, the hum of the gathering filling the air. The royal staff were everywhere, their uniforms impeccable, ensuring everything ran smoothly. The atmosphere was polite, poised, and, as always, almost suffocating in its perfection.

You could already spot King Ewan standing near a large, decorated stone fountain at the center of the garden, his presence commanding. He was deep in conversation with a few guests, but his sharp eyes noticed you and Kade immediately. Queen Bella stood by his side, her elegance effortlessly drawing attention. Her soft smile was the picture of royal grace, though there was a touch of something unreadable in her gaze when it met yours.

Kade’s arm remained firmly around your waist as she guided you toward the royal couple. Every step felt heavy, like walking through a long, dark tunnel, with no escape in sight. You could sense the anticipation that followed you both, the weight of your title already making you feel small under the sharp eyes of the gathered nobles.

As you approached, King Ewan’s lips curved into a pleasant smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was rich, deep, and commanding as he spoke.

"Well, there they are," he said, his eyes flicking between you and Kade. "The newlywed couple. About time." His gaze lingered a moment longer on you than it did on Kade, as if sizing you up.

You forced a tight smile, bowing your head slightly in respect. “Your Majesty.” Oh how you fucking hate addressing this monster with respect.

Queen Bella offered a soft, practiced smile. She was the epitome of royal poise, but there was a quiet observation in her eyes as she looked at you. “You and Kade are looking lovely together, of course.”

You nodded, a slight unease gnawing at you, and could only manage a muted reply, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Kade, however, seemed at ease, her grip on your waist tightening slightly as she moved forward to greet her parents. “Father, Mother,” she said, her voice warm yet controlled. “It’s good to be here. Everything’s going perfectly, isn’t it?”

King Ewan nodded, his gaze flickering briefly over the guests before turning back to Kade. “It is, as always,” he agreed. “The guests seem pleased. I trust you’ve been well?”

Kade’s smile widened, a sense of pride in her expression as she nodded. “Of course. Everything is in order.” She then turned to you, her gaze softening in a manner that didn’t seem entirely genuine.

The media buzzed in the distance, but you barely glanced at them, your mind stuck in a dark place while demands for your attention and smiles kept coming. Being the wife. Being the Princess. This was it. So fun, right?

Then, like a gentle breeze, Julian appeared beside you, his light-hearted jokes trying to lift your spirits. You knew what he was doing, and for once, you didn’t mind it.

Soon, Romana , Adelyn and Idris joined who immediately jumped to meet Julian and the conversation flowed with you mostly listening.

"So yeah, she is expecting. 4 months in. Good observation, Julian."

"Not that hard, considering how I saw her eat that weird food combo last time at supper," Julian said, his eyes glinting mischievously as he nudged you lightly. "She had mashed potatoes, pickles, and… chocolate chips, all on the same plate. I still don't know how she makes it work."

"You’re lucky we’re in public, Julian," Adelyn chimed in, laughing as she playfully swatted at his arm. You couldn’t help but feel a brief flicker of normalcy in their teasing, a momentary distraction from everything else weighing on you. You hadn’t realized it until then, but the conversation had shifted toward something more personal, something more human. They weren’t just royal figures anymore; they were people---people you’d either come to trust or come to fear. And in that moment, there was something soothing in their presence, something that momentarily cut through the suffocating expectations.

You cleared your throat, offering a soft, almost inaudible, "Congratulations, both of you."

Romana turned to you, her gaze softer than before. Her tone was warmer, but there was a subtle understanding behind it, as though she could feel the weight behind your words. "Thank you, Deniz. I know...a big change." Her voice held a quiet kindness, as if she were speaking not just about the baby but about everything that had been happening. With you. "Good to see you doing well. Don't worry about the media too much, alright? It's just us here."

The mention of children hit harder than you expected. It wasn’t the news itself, but the person standing beside you. Stiff and aloof to the happy news that just went ignored by her. Her hands ruffling Idris's hair as if Romana and Adelyn had now just disappeared.

Romana, sensing the growing distance between Kade and the group, leaned in slightly, her voice low but firm. "Um, Kade, follow me. I need to discuss something with Mother," she said, more an order than a request.

Kade hesitated for a split second before nodding, following Romana without a word, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. The moment Kade stepped away, you finally allowed yourself to breathe, albeit briefly.

Once they were out of earshot, Romana turned to Kade with a look of quiet intensity, her posture firm, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

"Why are you so tense?" Romana asked, her voice gentle but pointed, as if she already knew the answer but still needed to hear it.

Kade’s expression was unreadable, and she shrugged in response. "Why are you asking?" she retorted, her tone sharp yet dismissive, her eyes briefly meeting Romana’s.

Romana didn’t flinch. She was used to Kade’s defenses by now. "Because I care," Romana said, her voice softening just enough to carry the weight of the unspoken.

Kade’s lips curved into a small, derisive smile. "And I don’t care what you think," she replied coldly. "I’ve got my own way of handling things."

"And you are not handling it well."

"Focus on your own life, Romana, why are you so interested in mine?"

"Listen, Kade. You think-" Romana started, her voice firm as she stepped closer to her sister. "I don’t see what you're doing? Why did you reject the York house? I wanted you two to move in, so that Deniz would be happier, more comfortable. Adelyn and I would have been so happy, but you just had to-"

"It's my life, Romana," Kade cut in sharply, her voice low but with an undeniable edge. She turned toward her, her gaze hardening. "Stop telling me what to do. Focus on your wife rather than what’s better for Deniz."

Romana’s eyes narrowed, and she held Kade’s gaze with a level of calm that barely masked her growing frustration. "She’s not some toy you bought," she retorted, her words cutting through the tension between them. "Considering you never even took care of them too."

For a moment, Kade froze. Her eyes narrowed so sharply it felt as though they could burn through the air itself. If looks could kill, Romana might have been ashes. Her jaw clenched, fists tightening at her sides.

"What the fuck did you mean by that?" Kade’s voice was a hiss, barely restrained.

Romana took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing herself to remain composed. She was well aware of the media surrounding them, and as Kade's back was toward the cameras, Romana had a sliver of freedom. Her smile, however, remained in place, but it was almost strained, an expression of carefully controlled tension.

"Look, listen," Romana continued, her tone still calm but now layered with something sharper. "For once, keep your ego aside." She leaned in slightly, making sure no one but Kade would hear her next words. "You’ve never once put Deniz first. All of this? The marriage, the expectations, it's all about you. About your pride. And it's time someone told you that."

Kade's lips twisted into a sharp, mocking smile. "Keep your concern aside, alright? Yeah, let's try that. You’re just always rubbing it off, aren’t you?" She took a step back, her voice dripping with disdain. "Your life, your family, your perfect upbringing, well, I don’t give a fuck about it." She turned sharply to leave, her gaze flicking toward Romana one last time before she paused. "And for God’s sake, stay out of our personal shit."

Romana stood there, still and composed, though her jaw tightened. She could feel the weight of Kade’s words, but she didn’t let them rattle her. It was hard being the older sister, the one who always had to be the voice of reason.

And it was even harder being her wife. After the marriage, you couldn’t leave to meet any old friends unless it was approved by the management, which, unsurprisingly, was Kade herself. The more you tried to break free, the tighter the invisible chains around you seemed to become.

Your calls on the palace’s phone were monitored every word you said, analyzed, dissected. No conversations went unnoticed. The security detail on you was constantly watching, ensuring you never strayed too far from the path Kade had set. Even your movements within the palace were tracked; if you spent too long in one place, a guard would be there to “check in,” making sure you were where you were supposed to be.

And your own phone was no different. The apps were limited, the messages filtered. If you tried to reach out to anyone who wasn’t approved, you’d find that your messages never sent, or they were mysteriously deleted before you could even check. Calls from your parents or close friends like Clara , would occasionally be intercepted or 'accidentally' cut off. . When you tried to send a message to a friend or a family member, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, every notification felt like a reminder that someone was always listening.

You could feel the subtle tension in the air whenever you talked to your parents, the guilt and pressure mounting on you from both sides. Kade’s quiet, invisible presence loomed over you, controlling the way you interacted with your loved ones. When you tried to speak freely, the words became strained. You couldn’t talk openly about how trapped you felt, or about the way Kade’s grip on you was suffocating. It wasn’t just the physical isolation that was growing unbearable; it was the emotional manipulation, the constant feeling that someone was always listening, waiting for you to slip up.

Your parents tried to be supportive, but you could hear the worry in their voices. They knew something was off, even if they couldn’t quite pinpoint what. They tried to encourage you to stand up for yourself, to be strong, but you knew that their voices, their support, could never break through the walls Kade had built around you.

But you were not going to give up this easily. No, absolutely not. Just you wait, Kade. Bear your kids, my ass. Touch me , I dare you.

She could push and manipulate all she wanted, but you weren’t going to play her game. Not this time. You'd figure out a way to reclaim your life, even if it meant doing things the hard way. No matter how many smiles or sweet words she threw your way, you weren’t fooled anymore. You got to do something which you will.

AN: I need therapy cuz of Kade-

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theghoulboysblog · 4 months ago

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Also! I’m sorry! I should’ve put a trigger warning on that ask I just realized because although they found it funny, more so Ryan, it was borderline harassment in my opinion 😭

no, you’re good anon! 🫶

you didn’t really go into detail about the situation at all in your ask, just referenced it and said that you thought the situation was odd, so i do *believe* that it is fine without a tag! 🙏

i did, however, make sure to put a TW on my response to your ask just to be safe! (not because of what you said but because i went into depth a little more and i wanted to make sure it wasn’t possibly triggering to anyone!)

so don’t worry about it anon! it has been tagged accordingly and in a safe way! :) 💛

#dear anyone on my blog: if i am wrong about any of this please feel free to correct me 😭#i care very much about my blog being safe and so i always try to tag things that could be triggering to the best of my abilities!#idk if i’m supposed to tag in the post itself or in the tags but i’ve heard i should do it in the tags so it can be filtered out?#if that’s not true please lmk 😭🙏#idk i don’t often post anything that i think could possibly be triggering so i am kinda still figuring out the trigger tags 🙏#if you ever see me post anything that makes you say ”woah aly trigger warning this!!!” please tell me and i will 😭🙏#or if something is tagged wrong and there is a better way to do it!!!#or if you have any information about how i should be tagging things with possible triggers that you want me to know 🙏#okay that’s all guys 🫶#aly answers

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cirrus-draws · 5 months ago

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nearl utena paletteswap. is this anything

......wait, hold on...

#arknights #revolutionary girl utena #utena #tenjou utena #nearl #margaret nearl #arknights edit #...yeah i guess i'll tag the other guys too #hatsune miku #kagamine rin #megurine luka #i do currently think the nearl-utena similarities are mostly surface-level. if anything‚ i think she's closer to anthy #(even though nearl's story does not read to me as one that's consciously about misogyny or abuse or even gender‚ really)#to me‚ the most compelling part of nearl's character is the way she sacrifices her personhood to become a symbol of liberation #she is whatever the people want her to be; she is the vessel for their hope‚ their grief‚ their hate. she will burn herself alive for them #margaret nearl is dead by her own hand; what has taken her place is not a human being. it is the future. it is the city. it is the light #and unlike anthy‚ she chose this for herself. she welcomes dehumanization if it means that others might live a better life #i wonder‚ in those moments when she takes off her armor‚ if she ever resents it; if she ever thinks she made the wrong choice #... sorry for the downer notes on a silly post god damn. these horses have done something to my brain

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oxventure-text-posts · 4 months ago

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I'm gonna be honest with you guys, the urge to do the same thing I did with the oitd silhouettes, aka slap text posts onto the art with no knowledge of their canon personality other than what they did in the trailer and pulling from the fandom's perceived personality for them, for the new oxventure characters revealed in that trailer is so real

#and there was only reactions in the trailer #willowfine seems sweet and nice #robin kinda gives off pathetic boyfail to me (in a similar way to dob's pathetic boyfail energy) while also hiding something #lug's character art makes me think he's kinda cautious fsr #but Mike just smiling in the trailer makes me think he's pretty happy-go-lucky like Egbert #tho that could just be him talking with the team about a silly thing he's doing or during his character introduction in the actual episode #I have a similar situation with cressida #cressida's character art seems kinda annoyed and thinks she's above people like Prudence did #however Ellen seems scared or at least shocked or worried so cressida might actually be caring and kind like Ellen's other characters #then we have our new resident goth: happen #I kinda get the vibe that he's a more silent character that gets the job done quickly #like ice bear #but also maybe struggles with emotional connections #even if I'm wrong in my vibe guessing I'm sure I'll like them #I'm already slapping aroace headcanons on some of them #them being happen lug and willowfine #maybe cressida too #actually if I think too much about it I'm just gonna slap aroace headcanons on all of them #so they're all aroace unless I'm proven otherwise aka if I think another headcanon fits better #not a text post #this was gonna be a delete later but a lot of my thoughts are in the tags now #oxventure

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transmascutena · 10 months ago

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thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

#akio and utena #m #long ramble in the tags sorry:#the thing about akio is that he's so evil bit he's also so human #he has feelings. i just don't know what they are (if anything) toward his victims #he loves anthy at the very least i'm sure of that. even if he hates her too. just like she loves and hates him. the lines are blurry.#and i just. i have to wonder whether any of that extends to utena at all. we know anthy at times feels similarly about utena and dios #(and akio by extension.) the simultanious love and resentment. so it's not too unlikely i think.#like. even though he never had anything but bad intentions in getting close to her #i'm not sure it's possible to do everything he did and feel nothing #not that he has any meaningful amount of guilt or remorse for it. i don't think that.#and i obviously don't think he “loved” her in any of the ways she might have thought he did #but did he not care at all? did he not feel any kind of fondness or sympathy or just. idk. pity? for her?#whatever the case it wasn't enough to reconsider having her killed so you know. how much does that actually matter anyway #idk. i think about it a lot. how abusers are rarely entirely indifferent toward their victims #the role he's playing in her life is so fucked up but it IS a role he's playing and i wonder how much he you know... internalizes it?#how much does he believe the illusion of family that he invites her into? because akio DOES often buy into his own illusions.#(similarly i think it's possible that akio is fond of touga too. their mentor-protégé relationship is horrible and abusive #but that doesn't make it less real. you know? maybe real is the wrong word.)#when he talks in episode 25 about wanting utena and anthy closer that's obviously so he can continue to groom her #but is there something genuine there too? i don't know.#again. it obviously does not make anything he does better or even different. but it is interesting to think about to me.#on the other side of that coin does seeing his own past youth and naivete and desire to do good that he (maybe) once had #reflected back at him through her mean anything?#is there resentment there? that she is what he couldn't be? or more likely he just thinks that idealism is stupid.#either way it's something he wants to take from her. anyway ramble over.#i talk a lot about utena's feelings toward akio (familial vs romantic love and the way the two are intertwined in fucked up ways)#but not much the other way around. probably because utena is actually a sympathetic character whose feelings the show very clearly #wants you to analyze and think about.#which is... less true for akio i think. though he's still a complex character with complex motives. he's just harder to get a grasp on.

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mint-is-here · 3 months ago

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Cringetober day 2: Tsundere. Kind of.

[ID: A digital drawing of Uzi from the show Murder Drones. She is hugging a N plushie and is curled on herself.]

I am going to admit it, I streched the prompt a lot on this one, but in my defence, i know NO TSUNDERES IN MEDIA I ENJOY. But aparently Uzi can be considered a Tsundere so i just drew her. It doesn't read as a tsundere i think, but i was just vibing while drawing this. Plus, how could i not draw the character that basically says "i may be cringe but i am free" during cringetober?

#again #im trying to learn how to do art image descriptions #warn me if i do something wrong or a better way to do it #since this was an already existing character and probably has been described before #im not sure how i should do it #so yeah i need advice on that #anyway tags #my art #digital art #uzi murder drones #uzi fanart #cringetober #cringetober 2024

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giantkillerjack · 7 months ago

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Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

#social skills #i have a few posts now in my ' social skills' tag #original #maybe eventually I will compile them and polish them in some meaningful way. I know what I want to call the book title #in big text it'll say 'I'M AUTISTIC' and then beneath that in smaller text 'And I Have Better Social Skills Than You'#or something to that effect. and the cover of the book will be me making an exaggerated smug face like the little rascal I am #challenging the viewer to pick up the book and see if they can prove me wrong.#and then the entire first section of the book is about how actually the issue with our society's social skills is the harsh judgment #for people who have trouble communicating and not the other way around. I don't actually think I'm the #most charismatic person in the world by a very long shot. but i do know that I have put more thought into my social skills than #most allistic people and frankly i have surpassed most of them. not because i am more persuasive or smooth or funny #(tho i am persuasive and funny lol) but bc i have questioned which social functions are more restriction than utility.#and instead i have focused my energy on actively learning how to make people feel safe. i feel social rules would benefit all people by #being a little more autistic tyvm. i don't think every person should dedicate themselves to being better at communicating #i think people should dedicate themselves to being kind and patient to everyone regardless of their ability to communicate #I think our society wrongly links communication ability to intelligence and intelligence to level of humanity.#when in fact all three of those things are fucking unrelated and connecting them inevitably leads to #really fucked up views on disabled people that hurt us. and then with that aspect of the book firmly understood and established I would #go on to recommend some ways to make socializing easier and more fulfilling (and less shameful and terrifying) for all kinds of people #it wouldn't be a book about Leaning In To Succeed in Business or 'here's how to avoid being the awkward loner at a party'#it'd be a book about how if you see someone alone at a party here's how to invite them to join your group without pressuring them #stuff like 'hot tip! if someone takes a while to type or speak a full sentence - talking over them b4 they can finish makes u an asshole!'#I know that a lot of people cannot or don't want to dump a lot of skill points into socializing like i did and they shouldn't have to in #order to experience basic dignity and respect. if we treat people like that then we just validate that people - especially #autistic children and elders and disabled people of manu varieties - have to suffer unless they learn all these arbitrary bullshit rules #and a lot of them are arbitrary bullshit! one of the reasons I throw people off so much is because I harmlessly break a lot of social rules #but I know I'm doing it and I'm not ashamed and people just don't know what to do with that! but a lot of them like it actually!!#i think it's a relief to be around someone so openly and unrelentingly weird bc what am I gonna do? judge you for being weird??#I only care if you're kind. not necessarily 'nice' or passive. Kind. Brave enough to care about people being treated well. Kind.#also I recognize that at least some of my ability to be openly weird is white privilege so that's important to acknowledge too

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batsplat · 6 months ago

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hi batsplat! i would like to say that you are an absolute pillar of the motogp community on here, like you are truly so so appreciated. both for your knowledge and also for the way you write about things (i think you could write 3000 words on a grocery store trip valentino took in 2003 and still make it super interesting reading)

i was reading your post about your favourite rivalries that didnt include one of the aliens, who would you personally include as part of that list? (versus who is really good but not quite alien status) id also really like to know if (and who) youd count as aliens from the pre-motogp era, and if theres been a difference over time about how often we are seeing aliens or if theyre easier/harder to spot as technical developments have sped up

hope you have a great day!

that's so sweet... thank you that's such an incredible compliment dsdkhfkhfd

about the aliens, the way I use the term is entirely as a historical descriptor, not as a qualitative assessment of any riders. it's a useful shorthand for a specific riders in a specific era, but to me it has limited relevance outside of that era. so to be clear we're talking valentino, casey, dani, jorge and marc - and according to common wisdom this usage originated from colin edwards' 2009 comment:

“But as I’ve said before, I’ve got to be pleased to be finishing next best behind those four guys, or should I say aliens. “They are riding out of this world and to be right behind them means I’m doing the best job I can and that’s about as good as I can hope for at the moment.”

(jorge discusses valentino as an alien in 2007, see here. which might be complete coincidence, but has always made me kind of curious whether the word was floating around in the paddock in some capacity before edwards 'coined' the term)

the thing is, right, it made sense to treat those four (and later -casey +marc) as distinct from the field, because they were winning almost everything. one reason for this was that they were very good, very skilled riders. another was that from 2007-15, only four to six bikes were capable of regularly challenging for wins at any one time. it was a massive field disparity that quite frankly was partly enforced through machinery. that's why it makes sense to include marc in that term: it's not just the fact that he was very good, it's the fact that he was riding a repsol honda that was the best or second best bike by a long way for his first three years in the premier class. in 2016, motogp returned to michelins and introduced new technical regulations - and for all intents and purposes, the alien era ended. it ended when eight different riders won in eight races that season. yes, marc, valentino and jorge were still the top three in the championship... but it's the difference of whether you go into a weekend convinced you know the winner will come from a list of four riders, or if you very much do not know that. between 2008 to 2015, apart from the aliens, a grand total of two riders claimed wins - dovi on a repsol honda in 2009 and ben spies on a factory yamaha in 2011. both of those were wet races (which of course are generally more open than dry ones). so just to reiterate: a greater number of riders won in 2016 alone (9) than in 2008-15 combined (7). (in 2007, a further two different riders won races - capirossi on the championship-winning factory ducati and vermeulen on the suzuki.) yes, obviously the aliens were very good riders, nobody is going to argue with you over that... but those numbers? they're only possible in a specific version of motogp - one that only existed for a few years

honestly, I don't even really use the term 'alien' to describe valentino pre-2006 or marc post-2016. it's just not that useful to me... aliens to me is a 'pack hunter' thing, where even if some of them are injured or are having a bad day or whatever, at least one of them will basically always be there to pick up the pieces. marc and valentino might have dominated the sport as a whole - but not all of their championship seasons were completely dominant, and there's only so much any one athlete can dominate in the sport... you're not going into every single weekend thinking 'oh yeah they're definitely going to win' (yes, yes, there were two times per year where you did very much do that with marc). which is different when you compare it to the aliens as a pack, where you could be confident that ONE of them would end the weekend on the top step of the podium

which is why I just don't apply the alien term to anyone pre-valentino - it's not because I think they were less good or less talented or less anything, it's because for me it's a term that's more about an era than it is about individual riders. you have to treat each era on its own, and I'm not really a big fan of inter-era comparisons. it's just kind of impossible to say whether a rider in the 1970s is more talented than one in the 2020s, whether ago's numbers are more or less impressive than marc's and so on... the sport has just changed in so many ways over the years. of course, in sports you do generally have this upward momentum where each generation is 'better' than the last. sports has gotten more professionalised, there's been massive advances in terms of pedagogy and sports medicine and exercise science and all of those things - all of which already affects how athletes train from childhood onwards. the young aren't more 'talented' in the sense that they were born with an innate superior ability to compete at the sport, but they are more 'talented' in that their ultimate ceiling will be higher as a result of all these gradual changes over time. these things can change quite quickly even (and if other sports is anything to go by, I wouldn't be surprised if the nineties/early noughties brought some big changes in that regard) - so already between, for instance, valentino and marc there'd probably been a real shift in how young talent is being nurtured

(the most blunt illustration of this is that young valentino's lifestyle was completely different from that of young riders today, in terms of how much time he spent training in the gym, sleeping habits, nutrition etc etc. athletes now can't get away with that much deviation any more, and indeed valentino had to massively change his approach in the 2010s to remain competitive - but of course it's different if you haven't been doing this stuff since you were a kid. I think we can safely assume valentino's 2003 supermarket trips looked rather different from marc's 2017 ones)

being good in pro sports may in some ways be harder now than it was in, say, the eighties, and the level of competition you're facing might be higher now - but of course, it would also by extension be unfair to judge those athletes by the standards of today. also, different eras are going to lend themselves to different profiles of rider depending on competitive trends, type of machinery and so on - even very basic stuff like how tall you are might have helped you in a certain era and hindered you in another... so what does that mean for talent? if we're discussing 'talent' at all, how can we possibly treat it as anything other than relative to the era we're discussing? to me, it just makes these comparisons between different generations pretty pointless... or well, I like talking about some of this stuff in a more holistic 'isn't this interesting' kind of way, not a 'this is why xyz is better than xyz' approach... this kind of thing is also why I finds goat debate such a uniquely boring way to spend your time, incidentally

this is a very long way of saying, I don't have a metric by which I judge athletes pre-2000 as 'alien' or 'not alien'! I think you have similarly dominant athletes, though again it is so tough to decide how much of that is down to talent and how much of it is down to bike advantage. if you take doohan's title winning seasons for instance:

yeah, look, sure, you can call him an alien as far as I'm concerned - if I'm watching these races live I will be expecting doohan to win in any given weekend. I'm still kind of missing the pack hunter feel in some of these seasons, so I won't know for certain the winner is going to come from a very short list. like take 1998:

not really one group vs the field, is it? and yeah, even if I consider doohan an 'alien' in some of those seasons, I'm still not going to call him that - because the term was essentially coined in 2009 for a specific group of guys that one other guy was later added onto. the competitive landscape and demands of doohan's era were so different that it feels off to try and go back and label him or any other past riders aliens... they were phenomenally talented, yes, they were great champions, yes, they can be called as good as the aliens, sure - but why wrench the term out of its historical context? is it still an analytically useful concept if you do so, except as a way to generically refer to a rider as 'very talented'?

which is also why I personally don't describe anyone since then as an alien. this doesn't mean I don't think fabio or now pedro aren't as good as those guys were, I just don't think they've been given the opportunity to have that kind of hold over the sport. fabio won five out of eighteen races in 2021 - and he did so on a yamaha that basically only he was able to consistently get a high level of performance out of. which is deeply impressive - but unlike say casey in 2007, he didn't have those other riders to dominate all the other races. eight riders won a race that season! it's just a fundamentally different competitive landscape. personally, I'd be perfectly content if we don't get another alien era. of course 2007-15 isn't all bad, but for good reason most fans' most fondly remembered eras are either 2001-06 or 2017-19... yes, at times one rider was too dominant, but it still felt like more riders had a shot at victory - and most importantly the quality of the racing was generally very high. this kind of domination by a few mega talents on the best machinery can get drab pretty quickly (though of course a lot of the blame for decreased race quality needs to be assigned to the 800cc era 2007-11, not to any of the aliens themselves)

I'd be quite happy to retire the term alien going forwards... except as a useful shorthand for a specific group of guys who have mostly retired. it shouldn't be used as a way to bash the young stars, as if they just can't measure up to the legends of the past. which would be dumb! again, plenty of ways in which motogp is harder now than it ever has been, though the most important thing is that it's just... different. not better, not worse, just different. sure, maybe we'll get another equivalent to the alien era, even though I personally think it's quite unlikely. if it happens, yeah, let's discuss cranking the term out again (and, yes, if you look at the current season and ignore sprints... if this current trend continues then we can have the debate at the end of the season. pecco and jorge despite all their apparent inconsistencies are currently building a pretty solid case for themselves) (now I've said that they're both gonna crash out of assen huh)

that being said! I don't exactly neatly follow this principle myself, because sometimes I do use something like the term 'alien-like talent' to refer to fabio or pedro... obviously, you can argue this is basically the same as calling them aliens in everything but semantics. so what's the criteria there? when do I use this term? I think to me it's just... instant, 'in your face' talent. they arrive to the premier class and they shine basically immediately. valentino got a relatively sedate start to the premier class by alien standards - which is fitting, because he's not really about that blistering raw pace. still, he wasn't far from being a rookie champion, got ten podiums, two wins... not too bad. casey was on a satellite team, but he got pole in his second ever race and came painfully close to winning his third. dani got a podium on debut and fought for the championship for almost the entire season. jorge got pole in his first three races and won his third. marc won the second time out and of course secured the title in his rookie season. compare that to fabio - pole in his fourth ever race on satellite machinery, fighting for wins in his first season. pedro got a podium in his second ever race and is handily outperforming everyone else on that bike

so it's about how quickly these guys pick this stuff up, how quickly they make that step from one level to another - though again, it's important to stress you can't just neatly compare these achievements! valentino's first two seasons were on 500cc bikes, which were notorious for being kind of evil. some of these riders started on satellite bikes (we're not counting valentino here), and there's also plenty of talk about how the bikes have become more complicated to ride now, making pedro's rapid adjustment even more impressive. but in every case, there is just this ability to 'be fast immediately', whatever the circumstances... and it's worth pointing out that even though pecco had a mediocre rookie season, he was incredibly quick in 2019 pre-season testing. jorge martin secured his first pole position and podium at his second race in motogp

speaking of, those two were already a touch older when they joined the premier class. there does generally seem to be something to the idea that in motorcycle racing, if you are not already very fast at a certain age, you will have a quite definitive ceiling... and from valentino onwards, the age by which you need to already have reached that standard of 'very good' seems to have gone down. when we're talking about talent and throwing around the term alien, this feels like another important change to mention - doohan was not winning his titles as a 22 year old! neither was rainey! or schwantz! or lawson! or... actually spencer was very young, yeah. but I think you get the point. I cannot tell you definitively why this changed, but it clearly has changed. in the 21st century, only two riders have won titles when they were older than 26: valentino (29-30) and jorge (28). valentino and marc were both 27 when their dominance over the sport ended (even if valentino secured titles after that point and marc will very probably do so as well). casey was 27 when he retired. (fun fact: pecco bagnaia is currently 27 years old.) so overall it's pretty rare in grand prix motorcycle racing to operate at the top of the premier class for more than a certain number of years - but the precise age window in which you are likely to be at your best does seem to have shifted pretty radically this century. which should demonstrate how hard these things are to compare... like I said, talent is often assessed by how quickly you are good at something - but if we called mick doohan a late bloomer, it would be wildly ahistorical

and yeah, look, this idea of 'you have to be good young or you will have a certain ceiling' is hardly unique to motogp, lots of sports are like that... another measure of this precocity that's perhaps more useful than just 'age' is looking how long it took them to win a title from when they joined the premier class (if they did so at all, of course). it's generally very fast! marc year one, valentino, casey and joan year two, jorge and fabio year three... and, well, pecco and hayden year four. of course, there's exceptions to this 'be fast immediately' rule - athletes who ended up being very good and title contenders who had slightly different paths getting there. the sete's and dovi's of this world - and to a lesser extent hayden too, who unlike those two was only even really a title contender in a single season... but generally speaking, those riders seem more heavily reliant on circumstances playing out just right to have a shot at a title

or perhaps! perhaps it's going to change! especially if you look at repeat champions, pecco does become a bit of an outlier in how he got there this century, doesn't he? compare the numbers he was posting in his rookie season vs valentino, casey, jorge and marc. and in some ways, you can extend this even further and say he's a massive historical outlier in terms of any premier class champions. there was an article about this in late 2022:

and some more about how historically unusual he is:

isn't that great? you don't become premier class champion with that kind of a rookie season, but pecco did! hey, aleix was a serious title threat in that season, which is a far more remarkable story still! and the thing is, right, if you're studying the current era and are labelling some riders aliens but leaving out pecco... then no offence but what's the point? look, who knows, maybe marc and pedro and david alonso are going to dominate the next twenty titles and pecco will have been a weird blip. but isn't there something fun about believing that a bunch of different riders could eventually develop into title threats? wouldn't it be kind of cool if you don't have to just write someone off age 22 any more? I don't know, I think it's a neat development! I hope it sticks around! there'll be plenty of alien-level talents in the future, but personally I wouldn't mind at all if there were no more aliens

#hope you have a great day too anon and again that is an INCREDIBLY sweet comment #'aliens' is just my way of avoiding the term 'fantastic four'. but that's basically how I use it #obviously this is all my personal read bla bla... if you want to call fabio or schwantz or surtees an alien go ahead none of my business #it's not something i feel THAT strongly about. i do feel strongly about talent discourse though!!#i mean relative to other sports pecco's already pushing it for me... that moto2 title is a bit sus #in a different way fabio was FANTASTIC!! what a surprise! what a revelation! people had written that kid off and they were so wrong!#motogp #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #alien tag #i'm very jekyll and hyde about this in motogp because in sports in general i'm not into the wunderkids #but i just HAPPEN to like a few specific guys in motogp a lot who HAPPENED to dominate the championship for like two decades #that's not me!! i'm all about smarts over natural talent about getting gradually better rather than showing up fully formed #shaking my head while watching 2001/2007/2010/2013 to show everyone i don't agree with what's happening

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