#this is important to me because it kind of reveals the author as having not done any research outside of playing the game
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my toxic trait is side-eyeing the other fics in the broader firewatch au ao3 tag whenever they call the job or the tower a "firewatch" in the fic description. "[character] takes a job as a firewatcher-" or "[character] is staffing a firewatch in-" stop, do not pass go, do not collect $200, one google search and you'll figure out the job is actually called a lookout
#IM NOT TRYING TO BE MEAN IM JUST-#the game is called 'firewatch' bc it's a cool name but that's not the proper term for the job or the tower#it's a lookout tower and being a fire lookout#this is important to me because it kind of reveals the author as having not done any research outside of playing the game#because if you ARE doing research you'll get most of your results by using the right terminology#anyway. im not gonna go after people for writing a fun little au for their fandom of choice#but my level of like hyperfixation fueled research makes me go 'oh NO' whenever i see this lsdfjsklfjdslk
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Why do female protagonists complain about their looks? I was reading a novel a friend recommended and within the first few pages the narrator is complaining that her eyes are the color of mud, her hair is boring and brown, she has freckles, etc. Is this supposed to make them relatable? I don't particularly like my freckles but it's not something I think about more than once or twice a year. It's just annoying and a downer when the character does this.
It's because girls in books (... and girls in real life...) are supposed to walk this tightrope where of course they are beautiful (because beauty = value.) But they can't seem like they're trying to look beautiful (because trying to be beautiful = vanity, shallowness, a kind of girly femininity that's either childish, pathetic, or sinister.) The Stepsisters are trying to be beautiful. Cinderella just is beautiful. Dress her in a potato sack and roll her around in mud, she'd still be more beautiful.
This is where the "protagonist who doesn't think they're beautiful" thing comes from. Obviously if they don't think they're beautiful, then they're not trying to be beautiful, with all the negative junk surrounding that. So you get these annoying descriptions where a regular or even cute-sounding person will say "ugh, I have eyes the color of mud and hate my freckles," not "I have brown eyes and freckles." (Bet you five dollars the love interest thinks her freckles are adorable, and gets lost in her deep, dark doe eyes.) Also - "mud colored eyes" is such a strange thing to think about yourself? If the author wanted to commit to writing about someone who actually had body image issues - then the internal narrative would be my skin sucks and I'm too fat. But that's a little too real: the reader can't actually think the protagonist is unattractive.
Which is too bad, when you have a female protagonist who is just isn't very attractive, that can be fantastic. In Jane Eyre, it's important that Jane is sort of unfortunate looking - it effects how people treat her, the sort of jobs she can get, but it also lets her fly under the radar and be invisible in way that would be impossible if she were more beautiful.
I tend to prefer descriptions that stress - how people move, or what they're wearing, because that reveals character in a way that "brown hair" just doesn't. I want to hear about a character's attractiveness if they are so remarkably attractive (or unattractive) that it affects how other people treat/perceive them. Same way someone might treat a character differently if they had a dramatic scar, or looked a lot younger than they actually were, or were a different ethnicity from the rest of the cast. Just give me a handful of their most distinguishing characteristics, and you don't have to do it on the first page.
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Sajda 𓆩♡𓆪
Summary: Lando found his greatest love at the worst time. Yet she would always be there with him.
♥ ln x desi!reader [important author's note below] ʚɞ
♥ angst + fluff ʚɞ
♥ tw: death [lemme know if there's anything else] ʚɞ
author's note: i know this says desi!reader, but there's only one thing in hindi that y/n says, and the meaning of it will be revealed later, so y'all can read this, despite it being a desi!reader. and, this is kinda long (that's what she said). the max i mention in this is max f, unless i mention otherwise.
masterlist ☾☼
lando had met y/n in the most unusual way possible. he'd been in a cafe, waiting for his coffee and scone, when he'd seen her walk in. she hadn't looked anything extraordinary to anyone. she looked like the average university student with too many books, and not enough hands to hold them. yet somehow, lando had been intrigued by her. he'd seen many college students around in monaco, yet something about her had made him forget about everyone else, and everything else.
he'd watched, even though he didn't want to come across as a creep, as she fell into a nearby seat, resting her arms and breathing heavily. lando didn't know why she was breathing so heavily. she hadn't ran in, and the weight of her books couldn't have been so much that it was physically draining her.
lando waited for someone to offer her water, but no one did. she was hunched over, her chest falling and rising rapidly, and he couldn't sit back anymore. quickly walking over to the counter, lando requested for a bottle of water, apologising for not ordering at the cash counter. the woman had been kind enough to hand him a bottle, and just said that she would bill it later, before he left.
thanking the woman, lando walked over with the bottle in hand. she was still hunched over, her hand to her chest, and she was still breathing too heavily. he knocked on her table twice, making her head shoot up, staring at him. wordlessly, he offered the bottle to her. she hesitated, but grabbed it, and quickly drank from it, almost finishing the whole thing in one go.
"thank you," she said. her accent was different, and her voice was soft and velvety and kind.
"are you okay?" lando asked.
she nodded, "i am now,"
"would you like help with anything?"
she stared at him for a few seconds, "i'm not accepting help from a stranger,"
lando's eyes widened, "oh, i'm so sorry. i'm lando, it's nice to meet you." he held his hand out for her to shake.
"i know who you are. i follow f1," she said as she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up. staring at her smaller hand in his, lando noticed her ln bracelet.
"so, i take it you like how i drive?" lando smirked, a little cocky.
her eyes narrowed, "sometimes."
his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "what do you mean 'sometimes'?"
"well, y'all are mighty rich and arrogant, and i'd rather not give you the satisfaction by saying i'm a fan of yours," she said, taking her hand back from his. lando hadn't even realised that he was still holding onto her hand.
"that seems ru-" lando broke off when he saw her fighting a smile. he smiled as well, shaking his head.
"i'm y/n. and, i am a fan of yours," she introduced herself, a teasing smile on her lips.
she had a dimple, like lando did, and out of everything that he had noticed in the few minutes, her dimple was his favourite.
"would you like to join me? i could order you something?" lando asked bashfully.
"just because i'm a college student doesn't mean i'm broke," she said dryly.
his eyes widened, and he rushed to correct himself, to let her know that he didn't mean it like that, and he just wanted to do something nice. but then, she laughed. a loud laugh and lando froze.
that laugh, her laugh, was more beautiful than the sound of any of his cars. her laugh was more beautiful than hearing his national anthem at the top step. her laugh was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard, and he wished he had recorded it because he wanted to listen to that laugh till he died.
"i'm just kidding. thank you, i'd appreciate it." she said, still smiling.
she was shorter than him, and almost looked fragile. lando hated himself for thinking like that, given his history of dealing with bullying, but her arms were thin and he worried. he worried for a girl he met a few minutes ago.
lando picked up her books, as she grabbed her bag and the bottle of water. he led her to the seat he had previously occupied. he gently kept her books on the table, and pulled out the chair for her, being a true gentleman.
"you don't have to worry about me being the bus stop girl. i won't lie on the internet," y/n said, and lando burst out in laughter. he liked her. he liked her dry humour.
"no, go ahead and lie, i'd be fine with it," he said, as he settled into the chair across from her.
"you're not worried that i'm some crazy fan who's going to go on twitter and tiktok and i don't know where else to post a made up story about you?" she asked, settling into the seat.
somehow, she looked smaller in it, and lando felt the need to protect her, to make her realise just how much space was available for her to occupy because he didn't like that she was shrinking herself.
"are you going to?" he retaliated.
y/n smirked, "i might,"
"then, i'd like to see how creative you can get."
she smiled, showing her dimple again, and lando thought for a moment if she would scream at him if he asked to take a picture of her dimple.
the woman from the counter placed his coffee and his scone on the table, and turned to y/n, asking if she needed anything. y/n ordered for a coffee, and apologised for not ordering at the cash counter.
the woman hushed her, as if it was an every day occurrence for the two women.
"do you come here often?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
she nodded, "every day. it's the cafe closest to my apartment, so i spend a lot of time here."
lando's head tilted in confusion, "how come i've never seen you before then?"
"maybe you weren't looking for me then," she was flirting. lando wasn't sure. but he hoped she was.
"maybe i wasn't ready for you before. the universe does work in mysterious ways, y'know,"
she leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye, "oh, honey, you're never going to be ready for the storm i am,"
he laughed once again, and he liked that. the pressure of the world championship was catching up to him, despite his efforts to not let it affect him. he hadn't properly laughed like this in a while, but somehow, he was glad that he was laughing with her, a woman he met a half hour ago.
they kept talking, making each other laugh, falling into comfortable silences, asking questions just to get to know the other better. they didn't speak much about lando's job, or why she was breathing so heavily when he had first approached her. the two recognised that those were uncomfortable topics.
lando knew that y/n, as a fan, would have her own opinions, and while he didn't know what she thought of his driving or his team or his teammate or anyone on the grid, he also knew that he didn't want to hear it. the world had an opinion on everything but they didn't know the truth, and lando refused to get influenced by the opinions of someone who had no idea what happened behind cameras.
y/n had also subtly changed topics any time it came close to her breathing, or her general exhaustion. lando desperately wanted to know, but he didn't want to overstep, especially because this was a friendship he wanted to keep in his life.
lando had stayed at the cafe way longer than he was supposed to, but he didn't really mind, and he knew that max would understand. when y/n began packing up, ready to leave, he shyly asked for her number, and asked if he would see her again.
"you're a lot more confident on social media than you are in real life," she mused, a soft smile on her lips letting him know that she wasn't judging, but instead, just making an observation.
"i know what people want me to be online. it doesn't always mean that's who i am,"
"wise words, mister norris,"
lando ducked his head, "thank you, miss y/l/n,"
she had given him her number, quickly calling her phone to make sure that she had it as well. just as she turned to leave, she hesitated for a second, and lando watched, not wanting to miss a second of her existence.
she was second guessing herself, he knew, but nothing could have prepared him for when she leaned up slightly, her hand on his arm, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before turning away and walking out.
lando stood there frozen, a goofy smile on his face, feeling excited about seeing her again.
the two fell into an easy friendship. lando found out that y/n tended to sleep quite often, and because of that, she used every little energy she had in studying and maintaining her gpa. he found out that she was from india, and was attending university here on a scholarship. he found out that her favourite drink was hazelnut coffee, with a lot of whipped cream. she was a sucker for kinder, just like he was. he found out that she was bad at texting, often leaving him on delivered for hours, sometimes days, though she always apologised profusely and said that it was out of her control most of the time. lando also found out that he forgave her quite easily.
they spent most of their time at the cafe, sometimes working together in silence, sometimes she explained to him what she was studying with a passion he hadn't seen anywhere else. sometimes, they just talked about everything and nothing, and it became lando's favourite thing.
when it was time for lando to head to the mtc for work, to focus on the last three races, he had felt gutted. he wouldn't see her anymore, and he hadn't realised just how much of his mood had began depending on her. the day before he left, he walked her back to her apartment, refusing to let her walk alone in the dark.
outside of her apartment building, she pulled him in a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. she had dropped her bag on the floor, just so she could hug him. lando immediately wrapped his arms around her neck, keeping her to him.
they didn't say anything, just breathed each other in. it wasn't goodbye, lando knew that, yet it felt like it. it felt like a goodbye, and lando was not ready to let her go just yet, no matter the reason.
as she began to pull away from him, he pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her for just another second, before he let her go.
"i'll see you soon, yeah?" he whispered.
she smiled, biting her lip. his gaze focused on her lip, and he desperately wanted to kiss her, but he couldn't. he shouldn't.
"win for me, will you?" she said softly.
he smiled, "as long as you keep letting me know you're alive and well,"
her smile faltered, and lando immediately wondered what he said, what was going on in her brain.
she smiled brightly again, and nodded. she pressed a kiss to his cheek, like she did every time she went back home. and, like every time, he froze, smiling goofily.
lando watched as she picked up her bag and walked inside the building. he watched, half because she was mesmerising, and half because he wanted to make sure that she was safe.
when he was travelling, lando and y/n fell into a similar routine. since they weren't able to meet face to face, they were on facetime almost constantly. the only time they weren't on facetime was when either of them were sleeping, or lando was training or in a meeting. she had gotten better at texting as well, keeping him updated about everything and anything. she let him know when she'd be unavailable for their facetime calls, and lando understood.
lando felt deeply for her. he knew that his feelings for her were romantic. he hoped that she felt the same for him. but, the more rational part of him also knew that if he wanted to be with her for a long term, he'd have to be her friend first. he'd have to build that solid foundation with her first.
for y/n, he was willing to wait as long as she wanted.
of course, she never said or indicated anything regarding her feelings towards him. at the end of the day, lando wanted to be a part of her life in any way that she would want him. he'd never felt like this before, had never felt this insane need to be around someone, to have someone in his bubble all the time. he didn't understand this feeling very well, had never experienced something like this before.
he'd confided in max. he explained to his best friend every emotion and every thought that ran through him when he was with her, and when he was away from her. his best friend admitted to never seeing lando like this, but also said that he was happy to see his best friend so enamoured with someone.
max's advice had been to take it slow, and to be friends with her till she asked or indicated otherwise. when pietra and ria had agreed with him, lando knew for sure that that was the best course of action. he didn't want to overwhelm her. he didn't want to make her feel like he was expecting anything more than what she was willing to give. he'd hate himself if his actions drove her away.
so, he took it slow.
he sent her pictures from his day, and voice notes at the end of the day. he kept her on facetime, saying that he needs company as an excuse. as if he wasn't surrounded by his mechanics and engineers. he texted her before he got in the car, and he texted her after he got out. he sent her memes, and he flirted a little bit.
and, she did the same. she sent him pictures from her day, letting him know when she was at the cafe. sometimes, he'd recognise his coffee order and scone, and wondered if she missed him the way he missed her. she indulged in his excuse and stayed on facetime with him. she listened to all his voice notes, and responded to them. she texted him every time he was on track, giving him a live update of everything that was going on in her head. sometimes, she flirted back too. she didn't do it often, but she flirted back, and it always made lando smile.
after the season had ended, lando stayed in monaco as much as possible. he missed his family, and he missed his friends for sure. but, he needed to be in y/n's presence like he needed oxygen.
during his off months, y/n's family had come to visit her, and she couldn't stay out much. so, they changed their routine a little. every night, after dinner, lando would meet her at the entrance of her apartment building, and the two would take a walk, sometimes getting ice cream on the way, for an hour or two.
she always made him laugh. and, she laughed just as much. he still wanted to record that sound, and play it over and over and over, till he didn't remember anything but that sound. his feelings had grown stronger over time. she hadn't given any indication of wanting a romantic relationship with him, and he hadn't pushed. he kept his flirting to a minimum as well, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
during one of their walks, y/n had informed lando that her family were going on a trip somewhere, and that she wouldn't be able to talk to him much. he had understood, remembering the stories she'd told of her parents and how they often told her to stay away from her phone. lando planned his trip to his parents' place at around the same time, as well.
he was determined not to miss a single second he could have with her.
the trip she'd taken with her family was three weeks long. they kept up the same routine as race weekends. though, this time, it didn't include facetime calls. he sent her voice notes and pictures regularly, and she responded, though, often really late, and sounding more tired than ever. she shared pictures sometimes, informing him that most pictures were on her brother's phone because he had a better camera than she did.
nonetheless, their bond remained strong.
max called him whipped. carlos said something similar. but he knew that they knew just how important this woman was to him. they hadn't seen anything like it before, and he hadn't felt anything like this before.
despite his efforts of spending every possible second with her, lando had been an f1 driver. meaning, he had to be at the mtc often, especially to meet sponsors and work with his team before the pre-testing.
even though she had never asked or indicated anything, lando bought her gifts to make up for the time he lost with her. she would always laugh, but would accept the gift. in the beginning, she had put up a fight, telling him that it was too much and that he didn't need to. lando was stubborn, and eventually, she'd sighed and accepted it.
just like that, a year passed.
lando was there for her graduation, clapping when she went on stage and received her diploma. lando was there when she found her first job. he was there to drop her off and pick her up on her first day. he was there with ice cream every time she told him that she felt drained, and the two would watch a movie. he was there for every big and every small moment. as much as he could, at least.
she was there every time he came home after a race. she was there every time he was frustrated with the team, with himself, with the media. she was there every time they went to a seafood restaurant, and only ever ordered spring rolls. she was there at the cafe, his coffee and scone ready whenever he was running late. she was there when he was homesick. she was there when he'd be streaming, just sitting close to him. she was there for every quadrant shoot, giving him her ideas as well. she was there for every game night, every movie night, every little party he had. in her own way, she was there with him like no one else had ever been there.
it was so easy being friends with her, sometimes lando forgot that his crush had turned into him being in love with her. it was so easy being with her, that sometimes, lando forgot about his own feelings, only ever focused on her voice and her smile and her hands and everything about her.
she was weak some days, reminding him of the day they'd met, with her breathing so heavily. she would always tell him that it was her time of the month, and these were just some symptoms. lando had grown up with two sisters, but he had never seen anything like what y/n was going through. he had asked his sister if it was normal to be feeling like that during their cycles. his sister had reassured him that it was different for every woman, and as long as y/n said she was fine, she truly was fine.
but, it all came crashing down one day.
lando hadn't expected it. in fact, it happened during a race, and lando was unaware.
he'd had a good race, one that he was proud of. immediately after changing, lando had checked his phone, frowning when there were no messages from y/n. that had been odd, because y/n texted him during each race. she had been doing so consistently for the past year. to suddenly not have a single text from her, not even a good luck text, had worried him.
his flight was scheduled for back home the next morning. if she didn't pick up his call, lando was sure that he would jump on the next flight out and rush home just to check on her.
the ringtone was loud in his ear, even though the volume on his phone wasn't. his heart was beating erratically again, for a completely different reason as before. usually, he loved feeling his heartbeat everywhere, feeling the rush of it in his veins when he was in the car. now, though? he hated the feeling.
she picked up at the final ring. lando breathed out a sigh of relief.
"y/n? are you okay? you didn't text me during the race and i got worried," he said.
she paused for a second on the other side, and lando frowned.
"um, this is her friend. she's in the hospital, actually," the voice was low, but it seemed to echo in his ears.
hospital? what? why? what had happened?
"what?" he croaked out, his body working on autopilot as he stuffed his things in his bag.
"she was fine in the morning, but her condition got a little worse, and we had to get her to the hospital," her friend said.
"condition? what condition?" lando was freaking out.
"she didn't tell you?"
"no! she didn't! is she okay?"
"she'll be okay eventually. at least, that's what the doctor said."
lando asked for the hospital name, looking for flights at the same time.
as he left the paddock, zak and oscar stopped him, but lando didn't have time. he couldn't lose precious seconds.
"i'm really sorry, i have to go, i need to go," he didn't know what he was saying, or what he was doing. all he knew was that he needed to get to y/n as soon as possible.
"woah, woah, woah, lando," oscar said, grabbing lando's arms, holding him in place.
"what's wrong?" zak asked.
zak didn't know y/n, but oscar did. oscar knew her. oscar would understand. yes, oscar would help him.
eyes wide, lando said, "she's in the hospital. i have to go. i don't know what happened, osc, i have to go."
"okay, okay. give me your room key, i'll pack up your stuff and drop it off at your place tomorrow," oscar was calm. how was oscar calm?
"yes, yes, that's smart," lando immediately pulled out the room key card from his pocket, handing it to oscar.
"lando, deep breaths-"
"but, she's-"
"i know. but, you're not going to be of any help to her if you can't help yourself right now. deep breaths with me,"
lando copied oscar's breathing pattern, his hands holding onto oscar's arms. once the rushing blood in his ear subsided, lando nodded, gulping.
"she's going to be okay," oscar reassured him.
lando nodded, taking a step back, ready to turn and leave. just before he began running, he turned quickly, hugging oscar, thanking him. before oscar could hug back, lando was running.
the wait was excruciating. the wait in the taxi going to the airport. the wait at the airport for his flight. the wait in the flight. the wait in the taxi going to the hospital. it was eating him alive, and every single cell in his body was vibrating with fear.
in the midst of his panic, he had managed to text max and carlos, his two closest friends, letting them know of the situation. he knew that carlos was probably asleep by now, and would see the message in the morning, but max had responded immediately, instructing lando to let him know if he needed anything.
when he reached the hospital, he immediately ran to the front desk, asking for y/n. the nurse standing there almost looked afraid of him. his eyes were red, his hair unruly. he hadn't slept at all after the race, and hadn't eaten anything either. he felt weak, but he needed to see y/n. he needed to see his y/n.
before the nurse could say anything, a voice called his name. turning, he saw y/n's friend, the one who had answered her phone. rushing towards her, he let out his frenzy list of questions.
"is she okay? what happened? when did it happen? what did the doctor say?"
her friend didn't say anything, just quietly led him to her room. the wait to her room was excruciating as well, somehow worse than when he was on the flight.
standing outside her room, her friend turned to him and said, "it isn't my story to tell. it's hers. but, know this, lando, being with her, as a friend or boyfriend or whatever, it's with a ticking time bomb. one day, she is going to leave us. if you go in that room, know that you will have to prepare yourself for when the time runs out and it all explodes."
he heard her words. he registered them. maybe he should walk away. save himself the pain that would come with her inevitably leaving. he could. very easily, in fact. she wasn't awake. she didn't know he was here. he could ask her friend to not mention anything about him, and he could turn around and leave. he could.
but he didn't. why didn't he? why couldn't he? he knew he loved her the first day he met her. he knew he wanted to be in her life for as long as she wanted. if she was going to inevitably leave, he'd rather hold her hand till it went slack and cold. if she was going to inevitably leave, he'd rather love her, just so she went with a smile.
his hand was on the doorknob, and he turned it, pushing the door open.
she had tubes attached to her, and the steady beating of her heart was heard through the beeping. she looked small and frail. she looked like she would turn to dust if he touched her. her skin was pale, and her bones were so clearly visible. oh, his sweet y/n.
dropping his bag at the side, he sat on the chair beside her bed, slowly, carefully, picking up her hand, holding it, running his fingers over and over them, making sure she was real.
tears streamed down his face. why hadn't he noticed any of it before? why hadn't he pushed her for information when she changed the subject? he knew something hadn't been right, but he was stupid enough to ignore it. how could he have been so stupid?
lando's head rested on the bed beside their joined hands, sobs wracking his body. he had felt pain before. he had felt pain when his grandmother passed. he had felt pain when he read the hate comments about him. he had felt pain then. this pain was something he hadn't felt before, something that was completely incomparable.
he must've fallen asleep right there, the exhaustion of the race and the travel, the stress of all of it combined draining him physically and mentally. he woke up with a jerk, his neck aching. wiping the corner of his mouth, his eyes fell on the sleeping figure on the bed.
except she wasn't sleeping anymore.
"y/n!" he exclaimed, standing over her and checking every single part of her that he could see, as if the condition she had was external.
"i'm sorry i didn't watch the race. how'd you do?" she whispered, smiling gently.
lando huffed out a laugh, "as if i care about the race anymore," leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.
"you scared me, lovie," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.
"told you i was a storm you weren't ready for," she smiled, and god, lando wanted to kiss her. he wanted to kiss her so desperately.
"oh, you are a storm, alright, but i'm more than ready for you," he said, pulling back and settling on the uncomfortable chair again.
he stared at her for a few seconds, a little bit of his tension falling away. "why didn't you tell me?"
she hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to explain to him, "i wanted to. at first i couldn't figure out how or when to tell you, and then i started worrying that if i did tell you, you'd leave. i didn't want you to leave,"
her voice was small, as if she was afraid that he would hear her, that he would confirm her fear. silly, silly girl.
he clasped her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and he said, "y/n, i am crazy in love with you. have been from the day i met you. absolutely nothing will make me want to leave you,"
she stared at him, still chewing on her lip slightly, and then whispered, "what if i told you i had a dick?"
his brain froze for a second, but she smiled, and he laughed, and in his heart, everything was right again, "then, i'll figure out how sex works on the go,"
she laughed, and he smiled, and in his heart, the warmth spread again.
"do you really love me?" she asked, almost sounding broken.
"desperately," he said, without hesitation.
"you won't leave?"
"i'd rather drive with extremely old tyres on a wet track with no fireproofs than leave,"
she smacked his hand, "don't say that!"
"it's the truth,"
it was silent for a second.
"i love you too, by the way. i forgot to say that,"
lando laughed, "more than a friend?"
"way more than a friend,"
"y/n?"
"lando?"
"what condition do you have?" he was afraid of the answer. granted, he didn't know much about diseases and such. his knowledge of physical anatomy only went as far as understanding the risks of being an f1 driver and being in an f1 car.
"it's something complicated. it's a lifelong thing, and there's no particular cure for it. we found out in its early stages, which is why we started treatment early as well. the doctors told me that i'd have maybe twenty or thirty years more, but that death was inevitable. "
"oh,"
"yeah. my doctor in india recommended a specialist doctor here, and since my parents were already struggling a little bit with the costs, i got a scholarship, so that it was one less thing for them to worry about. i've made peace with the fact that i am going to die one day, lando. i know that it's going to happen, and i am ready for it."
"what if-"
"don't try and find a better doctor or something, lando. it's not going to work. whatever this is, it makes me physically weak and tired so easily. the walk from my apartment to the cafe sometimes tires me out so much. i can't breathe properly in it, i pass out way too often, i can't hold in any sort of food sometimes. my lungs hurt, and my arms and legs go numb, and it's a lot of things. and it's only going to result in one thing."
lando stayed silent. he didn't know what to say, and after everything that had happened in the past weekend, and now, his brain was taking time to process it.
"is that why you didn't reply to me for days sometimes? 'cause you were in the hospital?"
"mhmm,"
he tried not to cry. he really did. all he could think about was every time that he had assumed she was busy, or he had believed her excuses, she was all alone in a hospital with no one to take care of her, no one to protect her from this godforsaken condition. "why didn't you tell me? i could've been here with you? were you scared? did you have someone to hold your hand?"
"oh, lan," she cupped his cheek, as he sobbed.
"i'm gonna be here now. i'm gonna be with you now all the time. whatever happens, i'll be here, and i'll help you wherever you need me to,"
"you have a job, lando," she said softly.
"fuck that. i don't care about that anymore. i just care about you. don't leave me, please," lando was on his knees, holding onto her hand, sobbing as everything inside him broke.
"sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu," she whispered.
"i don't know what that means, lovie," he sniffed, calming himself down, doing what oscar had done not twenty four hours ago.
"when i die-"
"y/n-"
"it's the truth, lando. when i die, look it up. okay?"
he nodded, promising her that he would.
things changed after that. of course it did.
lando spent every second possible with y/n, making sure that she was okay, and following the instructions she'd gotten from the doctor to rest more. he was there whenever she needed him, and now that she was more truthful about what was happening with her, lando realised just how much she had been hiding from him in the first place.
of course, lando had to go to the mtc for work often and the races, because it was his job at the end of the day, but he always made sure that she had someone with her, and had phone numbers of oscar, carlos, max f and max v, will and jon. any person who could easily get a hold of him when he was away.
he worried, and he knew she knew he worried. but she did love him for it. she told him so repeatedly. they hadn't kissed, even when weeks had passed from her last hospital visit where lando really found out about her condition. they hadn't kissed, and hell, they hadn't even talked about dating or anything of that sort.
lando supposed that they should, at least once. to clear out any misunderstandings, or to just be on the same page. but, they did have a mutual understanding that despite not talking about the change in their dynamic, they were together. like, together-together.
they still went on walks after dinner. it was the little bit of exercise that she got, and lando was determined to make sure that she was moving. the easiness between them was still present, except there was an added element of brushing fingers, casual touching, walking a step closer than normal. and then, it changed to holding hands when walking, which sometimes became lando's arm across her shoulder, tucking her to him, and sometimes it became her hand tucked in the inside of his elbow.
lando knew that people watched, that there were cameras everywhere, but with her, it was the least of his worries. it was during one of their walks when he kissed her for the first time.
he hadn't planned on doing it. she had ice cream stuck to her lip, and lando wanted. whether he wanted the ice cream or just her, he refused to acknowledge. he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, and they had been unable to wipe their smiles off their faces.
it felt like kissing once took away any tension between the two, because then, they were kissing all the time. little pecks of hi, i love you. make out sessions in his car or her apartment, or even the little alley beside her apartment building. forehead kisses when she felt particularly weak, or when she had to be in the hospital. love bites of when they got carried away, and then lando took pictures (but no one else had to know that).
they were happy. they deserved that happiness.
but the dark cloud was still looming over their heads, and as much as lando tried to avoid it, as much as he tried to forget about it, every trip to the hospital had reminded him that there was only one way their story was going to end and he needed to prepare himself for it.
every time, his girl saw him struggling. she knew. and every time, she only ever told him, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"
he still didn't know what it meant. he had wanted to look it up, but he also remembered his promise to her. sometimes, late at night, when she would be asleep, curled up next to him, he would repeat the words over and over again in his head.
a year after they'd started dating, y/n made her official debut as his girlfriend at the monaco grand prix. she wasn't allowed to travel a lot, especially by air. the only few times that she travelled was when her parents had taken her to another doctor halfway across the world back when lando and her were still friends, or for when she visited india, which was also rare.
of course, his friends in the paddock had met her before. but, a lot of people were going to see her in person for the first time after only listening to lando talk about her non-stop.
she was immediately loved by everyone she met, and lando felt pride running through him. he was also a little aroused. the love of his life fit so well with his work life, it made him love her more.
before he got in the car, she pressed a kiss to his helmet and whispered the words again, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"
the words sounded beautiful, and a part of lando hated that it was associated with something so haunting.
when he won the race, he immediately ran to her, picking her up, as she celebrated with the rest of the team as well. his helmet wasn't even off, before he was hugging her and begging her to move in with him.
she had agreed, because of course, she had.
so, they moved in soon after the race. lando didn't let her do much of anything, insisting that him and the boys had it under control. the boys being max f, carlos, ginge, niran, max v, oscar, and george. how that group of friends came together? lando didn't know. all he knew was that he texted on his chat groups about needing help getting her all moved in, and people showed up at her apartment with coffee and food in their hand.
soon after she was properly moved in, the couple had to christen their home, of course. lando had loved every giggle, every moan, every whimper she had given him. he had savoured every one of them, because as happy as he was, the fear was still rooted in him that it might be the last time he would ever hear it.
there were some days when her health was a lot worse. some days when lando thought that she was right at doorstep of death. she always came back to him, and for that he was eternally grateful. she would make some silly comment and laugh and joke with him, as if they weren't in a hospital room and she didn't have multiple tubes attached to her.
he indulged in her coping mechanism. lando understood the need to add humour to serious situations. he knew that while she was comfortable with the idea that she was going to die soon, she was still scared. she hadn't spoken to him about it explicitly, maybe to spare his feelings. but he noticed, with the way she was slowly making plans for the future for him without her. he noticed, with the way she began speaking about other women, women who would come after her.
he hated it. hated that she was still thinking about how he would live after her, when honestly, he didn't think he would be living after her. he would just be surviving, and he would just be breathing for the sake of it.
they did fight sometimes. mostly on the days when she was feeling more insecure about herself. those were usually the days she would cry, sitting in the corner of a room, hiding away from him. but he found her, he always did.
in fact, it was during one of those fights when lando asked her to marry him.
"maybe we shouldn't be doing this,"
"do what, lovie?" he was patient, and in the back of his mind, he knew what she was talking about, but he refused to acknowledge it unless she came out and said it herself.
"this. us."
"and why is that?" his lovie was a logical person, he knew that. between the two of them, he was more emotional than she was. it was during times like these, when her logic seemed to be on vacation, and her emotions sat at the control centre in her brain full time that lando began logical.
"lando, i'm going to die!"
"i'm aware." his responses were pissing her off, he knew. it was deliberate, though. he'd rather she felt anger than sadness.
"lando!" she yelled at him.
sighing, lando faced her, crossing his arms across his chest, his ankles crossed as well.
"we've been over this, y/n, i'm not leaving." he said firmly.
"you should! save yourself! for fuck's sake, why are you with a dying person?"
"don't say that."
"don't say what? that i'm dying? newsflash, lando, i am dying! i'm playing pretend with you, i'm pretending that i'm not going to die, just like you do-"
"i don't pretend. i know you're going to-"
"it doesn't seem like it!"
"then, what do you want me to do? do you want me to scream and cry and only ever think about you dying? y/n, i'm constantly worried about you-"
"i don't want you to be-"
"yeah, well, that's not in your hands, now is it? i love you. i chose to love you before i knew about your condition, i chose to love you even after you told me about it. i am choosing you every second of every day because i fucking love you. and if you can't see that, then i can't help you!" they were both screaming now.
"then, stop choosing me!"
he froze.
she continued, "stop choosing me. live your life. you're 30 for god's sake, you spent half of your twenties taking care of me. it's enough. go out and party. meet women who are healthy and don't need breaks in between of sex! be with someone who can come to all of your races instead of just one! be with someone normal!"
"stop telling me to go out and live my life, for god's sake! i am living my life! why can't you see that? i am living my life, right here, with you, because this is how i want to live it! i don't want someone healthy or whatever, i want you! why can't you understand that?"
"you're wasting time-"
"i'm spending my time perfectly. i get to decide that. i get to decide what's a waste of time and what's not. just because you think i'm wasting my time being with you does not mean that it's true. it does not mean that i think the same as you."
"lando, i don't want you to regret ruining your twenties or your thirties for me! i'm replaceable! i'm going to die, and you will find someone else, someone better, and you're going to regret me!"
he took big steps, covering the distance between them. he grabbed her jaw with one hand, his other arm going around her waist.
"the only thing i'm regretting right now is making you feel like any part of me would ever think of replacing you. y/n y/l/n, get this drilled into your fucking head. i am going to marry you. i am going to marry you and i am going to give you everything you could ever want, material and otherwise. i love you. i. love. you. there's nothing i'm wasting or regretting. hell, i have the ring in the sock drawer right now. was gonna do it on our anniversary. not anymore."
she was crying. god, he hated when she cried.
"i'm going to put that ring on your finger right now, and then i'm going to remind just how much i love you any way you want. i am not leaving. i never wanted to, i never will. do you understand?"
she nodded, as much as she could with his hand on her jaw, keeping her in place, "i understand."
"good." lando kissed her hard, desperate for her.
before the kiss could turn into something else, lando turned and quickly walked to their bedroom, and then the walk in closet. pulling open the sock drawer, lando pulled out the ring box, and returned to where she was still standing.
dropping to his knee, he opened the ring box and presented it to her, "i don't care how long we have. i just know that i have now with you, and i want every nows that you're willing to give me. marry me, lovie?"
she was crying, and lando hoped that it was tears of joy.
"yes, i'll marry you," she whispered. lando slid the ring onto her finger, kissing the back of her hand.
"thank you," he said.
she laughed, still crying, "did you just thank me for saying yes?"
"hey, you were a fan of me before we met, you know i'm a pain in the ass when it comes to relationships. you agreeing to marry me just proves that someone went back in time, moved a chair somewhere,"
she laughed again, and lando wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face in her neck.
"i love you so much, lovie. i hate that you can't see it. i love you so so much," he whispered.
"i'm sorry i keep pushing you to leave me. i'm sorry i keep doing that. i love you so much too," she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close to her.
pulling back a little, lando kissed her. and again, and again, and again. their plan to immediately text all their friends and families had to wait until the next morning. they got a little busy, they're a young couple, people understand.
things changed after that. she changed after that. in a good way. she was happier, and had more energy.
lando loved seeing her like that. she had almost immediately began wedding planning, sitting with both families, asking his opinions on things.
she wanted to do an indian wedding, and so they decided to do the "western" wedding, as she called it, before, and during one of the breaks, they would do the indian one as well, since that required more time.
she went ring shopping for him, went flower shopping, pulled him along for cake tasting, talked his ear off about invitations and venues, and just about everything. and lando loved it. he listened intently, he responded quickly, he gave his opinions, smiling when she said no and continued to plan the way she wanted.
it was during one of her family's visit to monaco that his future mother in law had confessed to him, "she always wanted to get married. we didn't know if she would ever have that opportunity. thank you for loving our daughter, lando,"
if lando cried while he hugged her, that was between him and his future mother in law.
the wedding date was in three months, and the closer the date got, the more excited, and healthier she got. three months had been the longest that she had stayed out of hospital. lando was thanking every deity in the universe for taking care of her.
the invitations had gone out, she had a bachelorette party, he had a bachelor party, their parents spent more and more time together, the love of his life was happy. everything was falling into place. slowly, but surely.
a week before the wedding, everything was set. the table chart was perfect, the photographers and videographers were set. lando planned to announce that he was married with a landolog. she had her dress, he had his tuxedo. she was going to stay over at her friend's place the night before the wedding. everything was perfect.
maybe lando said that too soon.
two days before the wedding is when it all went down.
the day had started normal. the couple woke up in bed, cuddling. they also did a little more than cuddling, before getting ready for the day. they cooked breakfast together, chocolate chip pancakes, and danced to music playing from the bluetooth speaker.
it was when she stood up with the plates from the table that she began to feel dizzy.
"lovie? you okay?" lando asked, a hand on her back, concern all over his face.
"um, i'm just a little dizzy, i think," she said.
lando immediately got up from his place, taking the dishes from her hand, and settling them on the table again.
"babe, look at me," he instructed softly.
she did as he asked, but her head began spinning more, and she felt like she was going to throw up, and her body was hurting.
"hurts, everything hurts, lan,"
he'd done this hundreds of time in the past four years. he knew the process, he knew who to call, what to do, everything. but still, panic flooded through him. a bad, bad feeling settled in his gut, and he knew something was going to be horribly wrong.
sitting her down, lando ran to their bedroom, throwing a tshirt on, picking up the emergency hospital bag, and grabbed his car keys. going back, he gently picked her up. she was crying now, mumbling about how it was all hurting too much, and she didn't know how to stop it.
he drove way over the speed limit. whatever ticket he would get, he was fine with it. he didn't care at that moment. on his way, he called up his mom, letting her know that he was taking y/n to the hospital, and asked her to let her family know, and to let max and carlos know.
they immediately admitted her when he reached the hospital. they told him that she was in critical condition and that he wouldn't be allowed to see her. he begged, argued with them that he was her fiance, that they had to let him see her. the doctors refused, and lando ended up sitting in the waiting room, leg bouncing, his head in his hand, trying not to cry, not to lose hope.
their families had arrived quickly, along with max and carlos. they asked him what the doctor said, he repeated the message like a robot.
his mother sat on one side, and he immediately leaned his head on her shoulder. she was saying something. they were all saying something. but, he couldn't hear them. he couldn't hear them anything other than the blood rushing, other than his pounding heart.
it was after hours when the doctor finally came back, calling out her name. their big group stood up all at once, desperate to know whether their daughter, their sister, their friend, his fiance was okay or not.
before the doctor could say a word, lando knew. lando knew what had happened, lando knew. the grim face, the head shake. he said something, something like, "i'm sorry, we couldn't save her. her condition got way worse, and we just couldn't control it."
the doctor was saying words. her mother was wailing, her father and her brother trying to console her. someone ran out, her friend maybe. lando didn't know for sure. the doctor kept apologising.
he fell to the floor, his heart hurting, his head hurting. he was crying. maybe. he wasn't sure. he didn't know. maybe he was crying. maybe he was sobbing. maybe he was saying something. maybe maybe maybe. all he knew that max had his arms around him, and all he knew was that his father was saying something in his ear. carlos' hands were on his shoulders. they were all saying something, but lando didn't know. he didn't care.
she was gone. the love of his life was really gone. she had left him, just like she had told him that she would. she was gone, and he would never see her again, and he would never hold her again. he would never get to listen to her talk or laugh. he would never get to tease her, and he would never get to be with her again.
the doctor allowed them to see her. they went in groups. her family went in first, and then his. her friends then went, and then max and carlos. he went in last. why? he didn't know. probably because he knew that if he saw her, it would be too real for him.
and he was right.
seeing her in the hospital bed, with no tubes attached, he broke down again. he fell into the seat beside her bed, gripping her hand, just like he had the first time he found out about her condition.
"don't leave me, lovie. please. come back to me. come back home. don't leave me, im begging you, please, y/n, please, please, come back home." he cried.
he wanted her to open her eyes. he wanted her to wake up and tell him that she was fine. he wanted her to hug him and let him know that everything was going to be okay. he wanted her, he wanted her, he wanted her.
lando didn't know how long he sat there, numb and crying, staring at the love of his life's face. the face that would never cheer for him again, the face that would never let him know what she was thinking. the face that he wouldn't see at the end of the alter anymore.
eventually, someone came in, and took him away. he didn't know who. they told him that her parents were discussing the funeral and making plans. they told him that her parents were going to do it according to their rituals, and lando had the option to participate in it.
nothing made sense to him.
their wedding day, the day that she had worked so hard for it to be perfect and to be everything the couple ever dreamed it would be, became the day of her funeral.
the happiest day of his life became the worst day.
they went ahead with the indian rituals. her body was dressed in white, along with everyone present there. her body was kept on logs, and she was covered with it too.
there was an indian priest, reciting something. lando didn't hear. he stood alone towards the front, staring blankly at where her body lay. her brother was holding a log, with the top of it covered in a cloth and was on fire.
the priest said something, and her brother went around, lighting the log bed on fire. when he had done it from all sides, he kept the log on top, slowly watching as it all burned.
as she burned.
lando wanted to jump in the fire. he wanted to jump in the fire and go with her, wherever she was going. he wanted to jump in the fire and die with her, because he couldn't live in a world where she wasn't living.
a hand was on his shoulder, and lando heard her father, "thank you for loving my daughter, lando. thank you for making her happy."
"she wanted to get married. i couldn't give her that." he said, almost monotonously.
her father chuckled sadly, "i remember talking to her the day she moved in with you. said that the two of you were like an old married couple. reminded her of her grandparents and how in love they were,"
lando smiled sadly.
"don't lose touch, son. you are still family. we'd hate to lose our son-in-law too,"
lando cried silently. he didn't know how to stop.
"this was the ring she was going to give you today." her father said, opening his palm to present a thick silver ring with small diamonds all around. it was a simple ring. it was his style too.
lando hesitantly picked up the ring, looking at it. there was an engraving on the inside, and lando realised that the words were written in hindi.
"can i ask you something?"
"sure, son,"
"what does the inside say?"
her father took the ring and checked, before saying, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"
lando recognised those words.
"she said it to me a lot. before every race, every time she ended up in the hospital, any time that i was away from her, she said it to me. never told me what it meant. she just told me to look it up after she was gone." lando whispered.
"sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu. it means that my love will stay with you, regardless of whether i'm there or not."
the words echoed in his mind. they were true. her love would stay with him till his last breath, whether she would or not.
he grieved all the time after that.
how could he not?
he had to continue to train, to race, even when he didn't feel like getting out of bed. he had to continue to fight in a championship, even when he didn't care about it.
his team, team principal, zak, oscar, almost every driver on the grid who he had been racing with for years, were worried about him. how could they not be.
lando barely smiled. barely spoke anymore. he trained, raced, went back home. there was no light in him anymore, no spark.
of course, the media, the other team principals weren't aware of the major shift in lando's life. they used his grief as a weapon against him. said the same things they had said the year he won for the first time. said the same things, that he was mentally weak, and whatnot.
lando didn't care. he didn't care about anything anymore. he didn't care about his helmets, or about streaming, or even about quadrant. he didn't care about racing anymore.
he'd heard whispers amongst his team that they were worried he would do something hasty on track and severely injure himself. he heard the questions from the media to oscar and andrea and zak about replacing lando, now that he just wasn't good enough and was past his prime.
it was funny they said that, because he was still winning races. he was still winning races or getting on podium. he just wasn't happy. he wasn't happy or satisfied, because every time he looked at the crowd, he looked for her face and she wasn't there.
the fans, the media, they all speculated about the wedding ring on his finger. they all questioned and made fun of the fact that he was so depressed after getting married, he had clearly made a mistake. they laughed, and their laughter was cruel. but lando hadn't said anything. he didn't know why. he just couldn't.
it was when max had moved back in with lando and was streaming one day that the world found out about the bitter truth. it was max who had finally revealed to the world, months after, that lando needed someone to take care of him, because he was grieving. he was grieving the loss of the woman he loved so much.
lando had thanked max the next day. thanked him for telling the world what he couldn't because he didn't want it to be true. he had cried that day, thanking max through his tears for taking the initiative and doing what he couldn't.
max had only repeated the words she said, "her love will stay with you regardless of whether she's here or not,"
lando knew that. he believed that.
her love would stay with him till he died, regardless of where she was here or not.
.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.
lemme know if y'all liked this! thank you for reading it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)
taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday
#f1#formula 1#lando norris#formula one#ln4#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando x y/n#lando imagine#lando x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris angst#lando x you#ln x reader
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What do the Fifth House actually do?
Sure, yes, ghosts and tradition and the Heart of the Emperor, and Watchers Over the River - but none of those things give you the kind of assets that mean you can dress your cavalier in a coat that "probably cost more than the Ninth House had in its coffers" for a dinner party.
It's made clear very early on that the Fifth are a power to be reckoned with. When they first receive the letter about the Lyctoral pilgrimage, Gideon assumes it would be on the Third or Fifth. Harrow, meanwhile, has frequently-repeated anxieties about the Ninth being subsumed by the Third or Fifth, to the point that she worries that the anniversary party invitation may be an attempt to wipe out the other Houses. Teacher describes the Fifth's relationship with the Fourth as "hegemonic". The Fifth loom so large in the cultural imagination, they even inform the name of the made up porn magazine that Gideon offers to Crux.
The links between the Third and the Fifth that both Gideon and Harrow make seem to reflect both the fact that these two Houses have particular power and influence, but also that they frequently cooperate. Judith writes about the close cooperation of the Second, Third, and Fifth, a relationship which becomes a source of tension as the scions seek to establish authority after the Fifth are murdered. Judith says:
“The Fifth are dead. I take authority for the Fifth. I say we need military intervention, and we need it right now. As the highest-ranked Cohort officer present, that decision falls to me.” “A Cohort captain,” said Naberius, “don’t rank higher than a Third official.” “I’m very much afraid that it does, Tern.” “Prince Tern, if you please,” said Ianthe.
Which makes it sound as though Abigail might technically have been considered the highest ranking person at Canaan House (likely because she was head of her House and not an heir in waiting like Judith or Coronabeth), and that following her death there is some question as to whether the Second or the Third should take control, but notably no suggestion that anyone else might.
We know what the Second do: they are the leaders of the Cohort and the Bureau, the military and intelligence that forms the core of imperial expansion. Most of the information that we get about the other Houses talks only about their cultural or ritual roles in the empire - we get very little in the way of gritty details of what happens outside of the Dominicus system.
We know a little bit about what the Third does - according to Tor they are cultural trendsetters and players in soft power, but the one detail we get in GTN itself is revealing: when Gideon imagines her glorious future in the Cohort, one of the assignments she considers boring is the prospect of being "in some foreign city babysitting some Third governor." Which makes it sound rather like the Second are conquering the planets and the Third are then running them. But the books are even lighter in details about what the Fifth do, beyond ghosts and manners.
However, there is one suggestive detail: an important topic in HTN is stele travel - the necromantic FTL used by the Nine Houses. And Mercymorn, in describing a stele, specifically states that Fifth House adepts are required for their construction. Which rather makes it sound like the Fifth have a monopoly on the manufacturer of the technology required for FTL travel. Now that in and of itself could be the basis of their enormous wealth - selling aerospace tech to an ever expansionist military is probably quite lucrative.
But there's another element of House imperialism that only gets mentioned in passing that doesn't seem to be entirely accounted for, which Judith describes in As Yet Unsent:
"Their other line of attack is the business contracts. They claim that the services asked of them by the Emperor were set down in lifetime contracts by previous generations, who assumed the contracts would be terminated upon the Emperor’s death."
There are obviously some unanswered questions about the imperialist project of the Nine Houses - both Augustine and Coronabeth question quite why it works the way it does - but from the above it sounds like in many respects it functions exactly as you would expect an empire to: as a vehicle for the exploitation of others' resources.
Perhaps the Cohort themselves administer these business contracts. Perhaps they fall under the purview of the Third House planetary governors. But if you're exporting resources from the living planets of your empire to the mostly desolate planets of the Dominicus system, you're going to need some FTL ships and a whole lot of bureaucracy.
And if there's one other detail that we get about the Fifth, it's that there is something significant about the political power of their bureaucracy. As Judith puts it: "Quinn himself is a Fifth House bureaucrat with all that entails."
Are the Second, Third, and Fifth so close and so powerful because they form the bedrock of the empire: the conquest, control, and exploitation of planets beyond the Dominicus system?
#the locked tomb#tlt#abigail pent#magnus quinn#judith deuteros#coronabeth tridentarius#the fifth house#the third house#the second house#We regret to inform you that spreadsheets dad is maybe running the necromantic East India Company
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i don’t think it’s talked about enough that the reason there’s a Godwyn ending where he becomes a Lord (not a God) is because symbolically, he was mirroring Godfrey in more than just name.
Godwyn’s alive body sprouting fish tail and scales isn’t just a random design choice, it’s a reference to Confucius' The Book of Rites, where it’s stated that the subjugation of the Four Divine Beasts will grant the person who tamed them different kind of control:
- Dragon -> control over animals with scales (specifically, FISH. See?)
- Qilin (Lion) -> control over beasts (think of how the Hornsent coveting the power of the Crucibles via the lion dance ritual. The “lion” in lion dance is Qilin in the native language of Asian countries that celebrate that tradition. And it’s why Godfrey’s symbol is a lion, why lion imagery plays such important role in Elden Ring world)
- Phoenix -> control over birds
- Turtle -> control over the heart of men (this might be a reach but Miquella’s connection to the Carian family and thus, the Turtle Pope could be a nice parallel to this)
in Godfrey’s cut dialogues, he said “Dearest Marika is precisely what I must take back” and “Dear Marika, do not fear. I am returned.”, and even without all that, The Talisman of Lord’s Bestowal stated that Godfrey accepted his duty without any sign of wavering, even taking Serosh upon his back so he could conduct himself as a Lord worthy of her. Bro, he loves that girl, he passed Messmer’s vibe check with flying colors.
For Godwyn to be a fruit of such a loving union, i do think Godfrey instilled in him a sense of duty to protect his Mother, and there’s his own love and devotion to her as well. Leyndell Knights all use Dragon Cult incantations and buffs - the kind of power that is only available to them because Godwyn befriended Fortissax (which is why i said that move has an ulterior motive to it).
All of that brings me to this main point I’m trying to make: does Godwyn really that devoid of agency?
I see it’s a popular interpretation in the fandom that oh Godwyn was just a symbol, he had no voice, we never knew what he wanted, etc etc… Do we really not know though?
Sorry for slapping another fandom on this, but this is really relevant to my understanding of Elden Ring as a story, even with the base written by a Western author, was developed by a Japanese team of storytellers and designers:
The concept of soul - body and body snatching etc etc exists a lot in Asian media, and there’s always a general consensus that the body remembers even as the soul perishes. What is Godwyn’s body is doing? The game specifically states that his body is alive. He only perishes in soul.
He was infesting the Erdtree’s roots, spreading Death around like free real estate. If he wanted to let go of life, of his Mother, his body should have just let go on its own. But no, he was tenaciously clinging to the Erdtree, to Marika.
Even Fortissax remembrance stated that despite its best effort, it could not fight back the Death within its friend. If Godwyn really, truly wanted to embrace a true death, would his body just let Fortissax fight alone in an uphill battle like that?
Then there is the DLC revealed that Godwyn’s personal knights were in LoS to find and guard his cadaver surrogate, specifically for the Age of the Duskborn. Their helm stated that their loyalty to him is unbroken. So will they just go and do something that their Master would not want?
These Knights are literally an elite circle that was bestowed the most precious of jewels in Godfrey’s time (the +3 medallions), they aren’t merely good, they are the very best. They are Godwyn’s inner circle the same way the Fire Knights are said to be the ones who know Messmer best.
Even if you think Fia and Those Who Lived in Death were just taking advantage of Godwyn’s death… her endgame goal technically did not even succeed. She wanted to be Mother to TWLiD, but the ending very much shows that the Mending Rune was returned to Marika’s womb. It’s her who would birth Godwyn a second life, so the True Mother™ to TWLiD… would actually be Marika 💀
Like, am i the only one who saw this as some real crazy 4D chess Uno reverse move from Godwyn? Oh these ppl wanted to get rid of him then took advantage of his body? Fine, he would take that challenge and run a mile with it. If Age of Duskborn came, it meant Ranni didn’t succeed, Fia didn’t actually get to be Mother of TWLiD, Death - the very thing that Marika tried to seal, would now be something within her control, because Godwyn is its Lord now. Exactly like how the Dragons’ power became something wielded in Marika’s favor in the end. Thanks to him.
In the Duskborn ending, bro, the God would still be Marika. It’s the only possible new Age involving a demigod that doesn’t get rid of her. Even if it utilize heretical powers to get there.
And the crazier thing? This is not the first time Fromsoft did this, btw.
#godwyn the golden in my head don’t worry i got you#er brainrot#golden doomed mother and son#this is why that prince of death comic is the way it is btw#the dlc confirming “golden child” can turn out to be the most unhinged scary demigod out there truly changed my brain chemistry I’m afraid
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astrology observations
Hi friends! Today we’re discussing power dynamics in relationships, so there is light mention of drug use, abuse, gaslighting and emotional abuse. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable! I kept it light as best as I could. Do leave feedback & comments to help! Id love to hear your thoughts <3
Moon in scorpio- Growing up, emotions were regarded as superficial or was never even acknowledged. Mental health did not exist in the natives family, or it was shunned upon. Very likely an authority figure tried to impose their rules and values onto the native, going as far to have the native, “become like me.” As a way to save their legacy, even though it meant suffocating the native’s individuality. Lots of power dynamics and imbalances, the authority figure projected insecurities and problems onto the native at a young age—expecting the native to be a therapist of some kind. Didn’t allow the native to have a childhood of safety, stability and comfort.
3rd house stellium/virgo asc—If you have both of these, one, or Mercury as your ruler your sibling/s are very important in your healing journey. Depending on the planets in your third house or its ruler, you will find what your siblings can hell you heal/work on in this lifetime. If you have Jupiter in the 3rd, it’s possible you could have older sibling/s who always protected you in bad times. Always stood up for you. Always spoke up for you. Always got you when you had a bad day. The love shared between you two is deep. If Jupiter is in scorpio, both of you dealt with a traumatic upbringing only you two understand so deeply. You both saw each other at your deepest.
Jupiter in scorpio 3h makes for a very strong sibling bond. If it is unafflicted, if aspecting venus, or conj. The bond it intensified even more. The sibling would always look out for the native and even get themselves in trouble for it.
If Jupiter is afflicted with Saturn or Pluto, the sibling relationship dynamic will change. Possibly the sibling could move away and go silent, or deal with severe mental health issues. There ends up being a separation between the siblings, a divide in their morals, values and beliefs.
Taurus rising with moon in the 1st house—Its so interesting to see how this quickly can change depending on where the house ruler is. One can look at this and think this makes for an eloquent, observant and emotional yet passive person. But if the house ruler lies in the 8th house which would be Venus, this changes the meaning entirely. The native is possessed with wisdom and hurt of their traumatic childhood. They often experience tumultuous shifts in their identity, because of their lack of safety in their childhood, they never formed who they were. It is hidden by layers of trauma. But with moon in the first house this native carries their wounds deeply and openly. In some way, their childhood is exposed to family or friends around them. It reveals the pain they went through deeply. It can give them a heavier, intense energy. Something like a void of pain and hurt. They may also have eyes that penetrate deep to the soul because of their power. That being said, these natives have the empowerment to heal themselves on a deep level. They do a lot of inner work and may join therapy for a while to really understand themselves in a safe environment.
Sun in the 9th house, aspecting pluto—The native can become controversial due to a “taboo,” topic in their community. Very likely the native is misunderstood for years regarding what they say, what their message is. Somehow people project their opinions, assumptions without thinking of it affects the native. The native may experience backlash, ignorance from the community, until years later a revelation or truth comes out. People come to find out exactly what the native had been preaching was not only right, but astounding for so long. Sun aspecting moon also gives the native a denser, heavier energy. People may think the native was being rude or brash with their words, but in reality the native is passionate, deliberate, and intelligent.
Sun in the 9h, asp pluto— can also make an individual popular for taboo reasons. Or “heavier,” means. Like speaking up on child trafficking, political issues, ethical issues, getting into forensic criminology, becoming a lawyer, becoming a motivational speaker to help abused victims. As a lawyer the native may also fight a case that either hurts or uplifts their career. That case is something everyone will remember then by.
Chiron in the 12th in Pisces—The native experiences total loss of safety, love and stability. Stripped bare of their identity and personality, it’s likely the native experience gaslighting or emotional abuse of some kind around family or friends. The native had dreams and goals that struggled to reach light because as the native was a child, they were too busy shouldering responsibilities. Too busy caring for individuals who kept hurting them, thinking it was love. Confusing love and abuse all the same. I love you my Chiron 12h 🤍
Saturn in the 12h- Oppressive, absent father figure. If there was a father figure, the father either one: slacked on being a father or two, was obsessive in training the child. Strict rules, strict values, a conservative way of living. The native felt misguided and cornered under the father figure, having high expectations dishes out constantly and never being able to live up to any of them, because they are simply human. Which the father figure fails to comprehend—the nature of the child. Saturn in the 12h denotes the father figure experiencing separation from the child multiple times either due to: jail, alcohol, drug possession, divorce, etc.
Jupiter aspecting mars in pisces—Jupiter aspecting mars can make a native dream of taking action for a long time. Towards their future, love life, career, etc. then one day it hits them that they are spending too much time waiting for it to unfold passively. So they make a change. An impulsive much needed change. They undergo a drastic change physically and mentally. People may talk for a long time about the natives’ choices and decisions, leaving behind a legacy.
Mars in the 11th house—Can make parents/friends/family/people ignorant to the natives abuse. People may often gaslight the native as if the native is simply confused about their experiences, leading to disempowerment of the native. People may try and romanticize what the native experienced as well—glossing over extremely important details. The native gets shoved around in childhood, one to the next, never experiencing true stability. Their stability might just be the time they spend alone.
Venus in the 8h—Experiencing loss through relationships. This could exist in so many forms, betrayal, death, separation, etc. The native may relate to it being, not just one relationship, but it’s most of their relationship in this lifetime that bring up patterns in childhood. The native just wants to feel safe and not crash and burn at every connection. May experience separation with a loved one, someone very close to them. The native asks themselves why this pattern of loss keeps happening in their lives. Where does it come from? Often, a parental figure more-so the mother figure. By understanding their relationship to their mother natives can understand how they learned to cope with unhealthy treatment from others and how its impacting their ability to experience meaningful relationships.
NN in the 12h in Aries—Natives with NN in the 12h often experience isolation whether in prison, at home in an abusive family—or being on their own financially. Isolation in some way or form. NN in aries in the 12h, if you pay attention to the rest of the chart it will describe what kind of trauma the native experienced. Someone with this placement possibly experienced isolation & was forced to grow up to be a better mentor. Better son. Better daughter. Better older siblings. But lacked the guidance on how to. They were left to fend for themselves and figure it out. If the native has a stellium in the 3rd house, its possible they were left to be the better older sibling and weren’t taught how to be better for themselves.
Mercury in Capricorn—Surprisingly a native can struggle with speaking or writing with this placement. Whether it be from having a speech impediment, mutism, etc. or they could have been bullied into believing their voice didn’t matter so they hardly share their feelings and thoughts. When they do people expect them to still play that robotic monotonous role—which hurts them even more. Much love to my cap mercs 🤍 eventually its why capricorn mercurys can go on to be poets or be expressive in art. Because they weren’t allowed normal ways to express their feelings.
At your first saturn return, you will experience a massive life change. Any major circumstance happening at that time will be amplified, because Saturn is showing you lessons regarding growth. Healing never truly ends regardless of our age. At the end of your saturn return you may find that whatever issue you were dealing with will resolve itself much better—regarding your inner work and healing.
Thank ya’ll for reading!! <3 sincerely appreciate any feedback or comments you can give. I hope you are all having a wonderful day/night!
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#astrology community#devi post#astrology#tarotcommunity#divination#tarot deck#tarot#witchcraft#tarot reading#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a card romance#pick a card#pick one#astro posts#astrology notes#astro notes#astro observations
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Y'all wanna know about a gender-non-conforming knight from 13th century France? No? That's okay- I'm fine with talking to myself.
I'm obsessed with gender performativity in early medieval texts- so obviously I had to know everything about Le Roman De Silence.
To preface-
So, long before there was the Marvel Cinematic Universe- there was the interconnected works of the Arthurian Legends. The original superheroes- King Arthur, Merlin, Morganna le Fey, and the rest of the cast. However, one of the lesser known (only arguably canonical) interconnected texts of the Arthurian legend hails from France. People argue over whether or not to include these texts as part of the cannon of King Arthur because it's technically french- and the french-english divide between characterization of all the main players of Arthur's court is remarkably different. Much research on this suggests the discrepancy of characterization is largely due to distance between where the stories originate, and sociopolitical tensions between the French and the English. Either people were too far apart to share stories- thus too far apart to keep characterization uniform, or they fucking hated each other enough to mess up the characterization on purpose. For example, many of the French portrayals of King Arthur paint him to be a rather terrible person, where English portrayals are generally more kind to him.
All that aside- many people will disagree that Le Roman de Silence should even be part of the Arthurian legend canon anyway- because it only mentions Merlin at the end of the poem and because it's a super french poem.
The main storyline is about this character named Silence. From the Old French Poem- Le Roman de Silence.
Gender? No- Never heard of it.
The latter half of the story in this poem is predicated on a complex mediation of Nature vs Nurture. What happens is that a baby is born into a wealthy family, and for sociopolitical reasons, the family decides to raise the girl baby as a boy. They name this child "silence." Silence grows up with full access to an education, as was typical for the boy children of aristocratic medieval families- this education becomes important later as Silence wrestle with where they fit into the larger social structure after maturing into adulthood. Essentially, they find the idea of marriage too boring and would like to be a Knight or Explorer instead. (I love them.) Anyway, it's fascinating to me that the conceptual ideas of nature and nurture are personified into being something like "deities" which are overseeing the growth of Silence through the ages- and so we get these deities commentary.
Silence wants to be a knight- so Nurture brags about being right that gender is more performative than it is biological. Then, later Silence grows up to be remarkably "pretty" and according to the deity of Nature- they brag about being right that biology and gender are intrinsically tied. It's such a thought-provoking mediation on gender as either performance or pure biology that I forget it was written in the 13th century- long before Freud or Lacan or any of the others who became hyper fixated on human presumption of gender as either a social category or a biological necessity.
I argued in a paper, once, that the narrative itself does actually finally end on the note that Gender is a performance, and it is tied into social roles only so the ruling class can have control of the population. That is why the stories ending shifts into horror-genre-esque of Silence marrying into the upper-ruling class.
I also have a strong urge to write a Fanfiction of Silence as a knight- who does not meet a sad fate but rather lives happily as a knight and eventually marries a princess. Okay- Okay? fine I said it. I said it-
Social pressure to marry?
The story takes a dark turn, however- when the King demands Silence to reveal themselves in front of the court. Obviously, even the author of the story was aware that misogynistic social standards would not allow for people to ever really be free of gender stereotypes and roles. So, Silence is then forced out of the adventurous lifestyle of a knight and into a marriage. Also, this is the place in the story where Merlin makes an appearance (I have a theory that Merlin is representative of the devil, and the author really hated that all AFAB people were forced into marriage back in 1200's. So that's why the devil shows up when all the bad shit is happening to Silence).
Inevitability and dismay-
What I find particularly interesting about this poem is the fact that the end, as Silence is forced into marriage and back into "proper" social roles for their assumed biological characteristics, is the fact that it is written like an early attempt at gothic horror!
So, one of the stipulations for something being a "gothic horror" is 1.) old, archaic, twisted buildings. (this blog is indeed named after my fixation with gothic horror elements, it's interplay relation to social reform, as its emphasis on decay as the tonal necessity for social indemnification). Anyway, the other most important aspect of gothic horror- is an overwhelming sense of desolation, isolation, and loneliness.
Sure, Silence is forced into marriage- but even with the forthright writing style of the author, we, as readers, are struck by Silence's loneliness. Thus, the "happily ever after" part of the storyline wherein the characters get married, as it traditional to chivalric romance, is recriminated against in subtext. Now, we have a moment in which the "happily ever after" is a creation of horror rather than peace.
Ending the narrative with marriage as equivalent to a loss of freedom and a sense of evermore-present loneliness, cumulating in the edifice of horror-struck fear in Silence at their own new future, is a remarkably bold social statement coming from a 13th century author.
I just think it's a really interesting text on the thematic points of negotiating Gender identity, in broader terms of performance and social roles, as much as it is a critique on the total social control that the monarchy held over the people of 13th century France.
Edit: I need to add that Silence themselves consistently rejects the idea that they are AFAB and instead only ever refers to themselves as "Silence" or "the knight"
#le roman de silence#medieval literature#13th century#manuscript#nature vs nurture#traditional gender roles#gender roles#france#french literature#french poetry#classic literature#academia#dark academia#gothic horror#marvel cinematic universe#king arthur#merlin#arthurian legend#arthurian mythology#arthurian literature#knight#medieval knight#gender#agender#nonbinary#chivalry#romantic literature#literary criticism#literary theory#poetry
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in the wake of the reveal of the "pills that make you green" comic's creator revealing her true colours (something I've been aware of for a while but haven't had much specifically to speak about until now), i think it's important to take a step back and look at some of her claims about transandrophobia, as well as many anti-transandrophobia (or transandrophobic) talking points, and analyze them critically without, in any way, demeaning transmisogyny as a concept. let's start with some of the things i've seen on her blog and go from there
first of all, there's a lot of talk about how activists who are vocal about transandrophobia are "derailing" conversations about transmisogyny. while i'm certain there are some legitimate examples, many of the examples i have seen that i presume she is referring to are speaking about her comics that specifically strawman the stick figure who is an allegory of a trans man or transmasculine individual.
in these comics, this stick figure is often unjustly cruel and even oppressive of the lime stick figure, an allegory for trans women or transfeminine individuals, while simultaneously whining about how they also experience oppression and should be focused on instead. this frames trans men and transmasculine individuals as loud, taking up space, oppressing transfeminine people (who are More Oppressed), and simply cannot understand that they do not face as terrible of treatment as the other.
the problem that most people, myself included, take with this is that the author seems to be living in an alternate world where trans men, somehow, are a legitimate, strong, oppressive force over trans women, and want to take up all the space in the trans community's discussion to ourselves. there are definitely people who abuse the term transandrophobia to say transmisogynistic things, without a doubt, but in my experience most of us simply want to say that we, too, experience terrible types of oppression as a result of intersectionality that a trans woman, transfeminine, or trans person who's perceived as either of those things may not experience. transandrophobia is not meant to overtake transmisogyny, it is meant to stand beside transmisogyny and further prove that different trans people can experience different types of oppression, and thus should unite against both.
another thing i've seen on the comic author's account is how the idea of androphobia is anti-feminist and comes from MRAs or something, which... uh, again, i don't know what planet you're living on, but here on earth, there are men who are discriminated against and even treated with violence because of their ties to masculinity, femininity, both, or neither. and again, it is not our problem if MRAs decide to appropriate actual, useful terms in order to spread misogyny. we should not have to keep changing our language every time a bad person uses it. if we did, we would have no language, and thus once again be silenced.
since i don't have the time or the spoons to go through everything she's ever said or reblogged on her account, i'll just go over one more thing. no, the discussion and desired visibility of transandrophobia is not some kind of psyop or massive conspiracy to kill the idea of transmisogyny. if we didn't believe in transmisogyny, we'd have no reason to believe in transandrophobia either, after all. for me, at least, talking about transandrophobia is equally as important because trans men, like myself, have been forced into silence for so long and erased from most of history. trans men weren't even well documented until much, much later in history.
additionally, i doubt this needs to be said, but if any of you are actually intentionally ignoring transmisogyny in your discussion of intersectionality, you have no place in this discussion
and finally, to the author of these comics, i doubt you're reading this, but if you are, please reconsider your hostility. framing the discussion around transandrophobia in the way you are is not only equating trans people who face detrimental oppression to the people who are trying to oppress us and force us into silence, but you too are actively advocating for the silencing and erasure of, and subsequently the lack of resources for, trans men, transmasculine individuals, trans people who are perceived as either of these things, or anyone who primarily faces transandrophobia. i don't blame you for being defensive, and i will absolutely take your side should anyone be transmisogynistic towards you or anyone else, but you don't have to drag trans men who just want to talk about our shared experiences through the mud in order to support your point of transmisogyny's danger, especially within the trans community. if you want to have a genuine, mature discussion about transandrophobia and its dangers, and transmisogyny within the trans community, i'm sure someone would be happy to discuss that with you. but with the way you're treating and talking about trans men, it is unlikely that you will take anyone up on that offer
idk man. i feel like it's important to talk about transmisogyny and transandrophobia at the same time, as well as all other forms of intersectionality. we should be turning transphobes into couches instead of whatever the hell this is
#trans#transgender#gender#transandrophobia#transphobia#pills that make you green#transmisandry#transandromisia
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Really appreciating in Berserk how The Count's chapters in the Black Swordsman arc can be used as a parallel for what's going on emotionally with Griffith, especially leading up to and during the Eclipse.
For me it starts with Theresia explaining to Puck the dark transformation that took place in her father whenever he first used the Behelit. She explains it like so: "Father was a great ruler. He may have been harsh, but that was so he could defend his kingdom against neighboring enemies. He was trusted and loved by all, even as a father."
"But father changed. Like a man possessed, he started hunting down heretics. Now it doesn't even make a difference anymore whether they're heretics or not! It's almost as if he enjoys hurting people! I'm scared. Sometimes i feel as if he's not human anymore."
Puck reflects on this afterwards by thinking:
"For revenge on the heretics who robbed him of the woman he loved? Is that why he acquired demonic powers? He summoned the Godhand and he himself became a demon?"
It is also revealed soon after this by the Godhand that The Count's wife was not in fact killed by heretics, like Theresia had been told. The Count had discovered that his wife was being unfaithful to him, which initially drove him to suicidal thoughts (kind of like a certain somebody else we know during an extremely dark period in his life):
"Seeing the triumphant, knowing smile of your betrayer drove you to the depths of despair. You decided to end your own life to escape that despair. However, your despair itself was part of the wheel of fate."
Until, instead of ending his own life, The Count decided to use her for his first sacrifice instead:
"Yes indeed, you said it! 'I offer this woman for sacrifice.' The life you couldn't take by your own hand, the life of the person you loved and hated the most! You gave it to us! So that you could bury your fragile human heart."
The Count is also acting sneeringly arrogant towards Guts during their battle, belittling him by saying things to him like:
"No matter how much you've tried to hone your skills, you've come to the limit of your pathetic human form. How fragile you humans."
Puck is NOT having any of this from The Count, and he counters that remark with: "...You yourself used to be one of those fragile humans!"
"You acquired those powers so you could get revenge on the heretics, didn't you?! But that wasn't the only reason. If it was only about revenge, all you had to do was exercise your authority."
"The truth is, you became this thing to run away from the pain inside your own heart! To run away from yourself! You threw away your humanity! If anyone's a fragile human, it's you!"
Cue Griffith as Femto showing up for the very first time, and then almost immediately also attempting to belittle Guts, saying:
"Still squirming around in your pitiful existence, I see..."
"Black Swordsman, you say? His petty existence is beneath our notice."
Guts ALSO isn't having any of that, and replies: "My petty existence? Don't make me laugh! You're where you are now thanks to this petty existence. Thanks to me, who's fighting an army of the dead because of you! Thanks to me who's writhing around in my own blood!"
"You stand there putting on airs like you're some kind of godly being! Griffith!" To which Griffith coolly replies: "Yes... You're nothing but a squirming, sacrificial offering."
HOWEVER. What is then explained directly after that to everybody by The Godhand?
That an acceptable sacrifice for the Invocation of Doom can only be somebody that you genuinely care about.
Guts cannot be used for The Count's second sacrifice, not only because Griffith had already marked him as a sacrifice, but because according to the Godhand:
"The boy is merely your enemy... It must be someone important to you, part of your soul. Someone so close to you that it's almost like giving up a part of you... By making such a sacrifice to demonkind, you'll be able to sever any remnants of your own humanity. A fissure in your heart will open up into which evil will surge."
So for The Count, the only proper candidate left is his daughter Theresia. And Griffith urges him to make this final choice by saying:
"Cut your love asunder, Count!"
So taking ALL of this into account, is Griffith calling Guts "nothing but a squirming sacrificial offering" actually really that sick of a burn? Hmmm.... idk, but it really makes u think.....
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Emergency Follow-Up Book Club Meeting
[Won't really make sense if you don't read Part 1 first, but Tumblr will hide this post if I add a link, so search "book club" on my blog]
Attending: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Davrin, Taash, Emmrich, Rook
Book: Adventures of Dolor the Daring, Volume 49, by I. L. Literatus Evaraas Mercar (Rook)
Notes taken by: Neve (Bellara was too overexcited to hold a quill)
Notes:
Important preface: This will likely be the serial’s last volume ever to be published. According to the paper sellers and my own sources, there is currently a lot of public outrage around the scene where Dolor gets hit by an enemy mage’s ice spike and, aside from wounding them for dramatic suspense, it also shatters a glamor amulet around their neck, revealing that they were not a human, but a Qunari all along. Reactions from (human) readers have included, to my knowledge: verbose letters to the publisher decrying the serial’s “forced diversity” in character backgrounds, as apparently it was already bad enough that the supporting cast is “teeming” with elves and dwarves; threats to the author as an “agent of the Qun” trying to “falsely paint their kind in a positive light”; laments from anguished mothers that their children will now think that the “oxmen” are all friendly heroes (I would point out that children have no business reading crime serials in the first place, but we know there’s no stopping a particularly determined twelve-year-old with a yearning to see a throat slit); and even high-brow critical essays insisting that Dolor has so far proven themselves to be far too quick-witted and intelligent to be a Qunari.
Rook opened the meeting by going over all of the above; which, according to them, was precisely what they feared when they picked up writing as a hobby. “It didn’t take you too long to figure out that Dolor’s adventures are based on my own,” they said, looking at me specifically (they did not seem angry, at least; though I suspect that Rook has trained their facial muscles not to betray them when they are angry, to put humans at ease). “But do I look like someone these adventures might happen to? In most people’s eyes, at least?”
Bellara and Harding disrupted the meeting to give Rook a hug.
Taash further disrupted the meeting with an offer to beat up every qalaba that made them feel like this. Lucanis supported them and volunteered his services to do it “more elegantly but also more permanently”. The offer was appreciated, but graciously declined.
Davrin asked if Rook regretted revealing Dolor’s true identity. Rook said they did not, and added that it was not a revelation, but a last-minute twist, which never would have happened if it were not for us. “I have been avoiding your book clubs because I was so embarrassed about my little secret… But it turns out I never had to hide it. Not from you.”
BEL, I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER. I AM NOT GETTING SENTIMENTAL. I AM JUST KEEPING AN ACCURATE RECORD!
Harding said that she found Dolor’s sendoff to be “quite lovely”, and in her mind, they are still out there, fighting evil mages on the streets of Tevinter as their true self, with their friends by their side.
Bellara stopped trying to contain herself and erupted into enthusiastic gushing about the final scene, where the heroes get a moment to breathe as the villain is dragged away by a very Rana-like templar, and the mage Flosculus gently tends to Dolor’s wounds. In the previous volume, Dolor assumed that their feelings for Flosculus were not reciprocated, and decided to bottle them up. This volume still ends before the two can have an open conversation — but the delicate touches of the healer’s glow-infused hands all across Dolor’s bandaged torso, and the soft whispers asking them to tell him where it hurts “had more spice than the one romance we read that made Lucanis walk out of the room in a straight line”.
I am inclined to agree.
Emmrich laughed at no, that would be too mean-spirited; let’s say, was very amused by Bellara’s stumbling over the word “spice” and told her, “You can say eroticism, dear. That was the intent, after all.”
Rook has quite a few vitiligo spots on their otherwise slate-grey face, and that makes it a little more obvious when blood rushes to their cheeks. Which it certainly did in that moment — as they admitted the healing scene was Emmrich’s idea, and they merely “did their best” to commit it to paper.
To which Emmrich said, “And you described everything marvelously, my darling. I hope you know that all of us in this room are deeply grateful to you for sharing your work with us”.
I am also inclined to agree with that last part. But also, let it go on record that Emmrich held Rook’s hand while talking. If he ever blinks those big eyes at me again and claims that he had “no idea” everyone in the Lighthouse knew about him and Rook, I will just point to the evidence.
The meeting concluded with everyone reassuring Rook that, despite what happened to the Dolor serial, they should never stop writing. Harding even said, tearing up a little, that Varric would be proud. That made Rook blush again; are they finally beginning to process what happened? I cannot be certain.
Once we settled down, dice were rolled to choose the next book. It is Emmrich’s turn now.
Taash begged him, with a groan, not to choose any of the “thousand-page academic shit”. He protested that he has amassed “quite a collection of enjoyable romance stories” over the years — and took Rook’s hand in his again.
I see you, old man.
#dragon age#da:tv#emmrook#neve gallus#bellara lutare#rook mercar#davrin#taash#emmrich volkarin#lucanis dellamorte#emmrich x rook#age gap ship#original things
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pov | kim seokjin
Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: married! seokjin x f! reader Word Count: 9K Genre: fluff, more fluff Rating: PG-13 Possible Warnings/Note: Inspired by Ariana Grande's song "pov"
Summary: reminiscing your 20 year marriage with seokjin.
taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @aretha170 , @jinniegenie , @mooniyooni .@we8joon , @njrwifey
requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist
The warm afternoon sun filtered through the gossamer curtains, casting a soft glow across the living room. You sat comfortably on the plush sofa, your fingers absently tracing the intricate patterns on the throw pillow beside you. Across from you, perched on the edge of an armchair with a determined look on her face, was your daughter, Minjee. At sixteen, she was the spitting image of you at that age, but with unmistakable traces of her father in the curve of her smile and the twinkle in her eyes.
"Okay, Mom," Minjee said, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she fiddled with her tablet. "I'm ready to start the interview for my project. Are you sure you're okay with me recording this?"
You couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Of course, sweetheart. I'm happy to help with your assignment. What's the topic again?"
Minjee's face lit up. "It's about long-lasting marriages and the secrets to their success. I thought, who better to interview than you and Dad? Twenty years is a pretty big deal!"
A warm feeling spread through your chest as you thought about your husband, Kim Seokjin. Twenty years of marriage, and he was still the best person in your world. "Well, I'm flattered you chose us. Where should we begin?"
Minjee tapped her stylus against her chin thoughtfully. "How about we start at the beginning? What was your first anniversary like?"
As you began to speak, the room around you seemed to fade, replaced by vivid memories of a time that felt both distant and as clear as yesterday...
-
*19 years ago*
The restaurant was dimly lit, casting a romantic glow over the intimate table for two. Candles flickered between you and Seokjin, their dance reflecting in his warm brown eyes as he smiled at you from across the table. One year of marriage, and still, every time he looked at you like that, your heart skipped a beat.
"Happy anniversary, my love," Seokjin said, raising his glass of champagne. The bubbles caught the light, creating tiny fireworks in the flute. "To many more years of happiness together."
You clinked your glass against his, the crystal singing a clear note. "To us," you echoed, taking a sip of the crisp, effervescent drink.
As you set your glass down, a waiter approached with a covered silver platter. With a flourish, he lifted the dome, revealing an artfully arranged plate of what appeared to be some kind of nut-crusted fish.
Your eyes widened slightly, a small frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. Before you could say anything, Seokjin was already addressing the waiter.
"I'm sorry, but there seems to be a mistake," he said politely but firmly. "My wife has a severe nut allergy. We specifically requested no nuts in any of our dishes."
The waiter's face fell, a look of mortification replacing his earlier pride. "I am so sorry, sir, madam. This is completely unacceptable. I'll have the kitchen prepare a new dish immediately."
As the waiter hurried away with the offending plate, you reached across the table to squeeze Seokjin's hand. "Thank you," you said softly. "I can't believe you remembered about my allergy."
Seokjin's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Of course I remembered. It's important – it's part of who you are." His expression softened into a tender smile. "Besides, how could I forget the time you almost died at that company picnic because someone forgot to mention there were walnuts in the brownies?"
You laughed, the tension from the near miss with the nutty dish dissipating. "Oh god, don't remind me. I thought I was going to have to use my EpiPen on our third date!"
"Well, it certainly made for a memorable evening," Seokjin chuckled. "I knew then that life with you would never be boring."
As you waited for your replacement meals, the two of you fell into easy conversation, reminiscing about the past year of marriage and all the little moments that had brought you closer together.
When the food finally arrived – a beautifully prepared, nut-free sea bass for you and a succulent steak for Seokjin – you both dug in with gusto. The flavors were exquisite, but what made the meal truly special was the company.
Between bites, Seokjin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped package. "I have something for you," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he slid the gift across the table.
Your eyes lit up with curiosity as you carefully unwrapped the present. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with tiny charms. As you examined it more closely, you gasped in delight.
"Jin, this is beautiful! But... wait, is that...?" You peered at one of the charms, a miniature paintbrush.
Seokjin nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I know you've been talking about wanting to take up painting again. I thought this might be a little reminder to pursue that passion."
You continued to examine the charms, each one representing a different aspect of your life or personality. There was a tiny book for your love of reading, a musical note for the songs you liked to hum while cooking, and even a little cat charm that looked suspiciously like the stray you'd been feeding in secret.
"How did you know about the cat?" you asked, looking up at him in amazement.
Seokjin's laugh was warm and full of affection. "You mean the one you think I don't know about? The one you've been leaving food out for every night? I've seen you, love. I think it's adorable."
You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "I was going to tell you... I just didn't want you to think I was trying to adopt another pet so soon after Mochi passed away."
"Hey," Seokjin said softly, reaching out to take your hand. "I know how much you loved Mochi. And I know that caring for that stray doesn't mean you're trying to replace him. It just means you have a big heart. It's one of the things I love most about you."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. "Jin, I don't know what to say. This bracelet, the way you notice everything... I feel so seen, so understood."
"That's my job," he said with a wink. "To know you better than anyone else in the world. Speaking of which..." He signaled to the waiter, who promptly appeared with two dessert menus.
You shook your head, laughing. "Let me guess – no chocolate ice cream for me?"
Seokjin's eyes widened in mock horror. "I wouldn't dream of it! I still remember the look on your face when I suggested we get chocolate ice cream on our second date. I thought you were going to break up with me on the spot!"
"It was a close call," you teased. "But you redeemed yourself with that strawberry sorbet."
As you perused the dessert options, settling on a shared plate of tiramisu, you marveled at how well Seokjin knew you. It wasn't just the big things, like your allergies or your aversion to chocolate ice cream. It was the little details – the way he'd order your coffee just the way you liked it without asking, or how he'd instinctively know when you needed a quiet night in versus a night out with friends.
When the tiramisu arrived, artfully presented with two spoons, Seokjin raised his dessert spoon in a playful toast. "To knowing each other better with each passing day," he said.
You clinked your spoon against his, your heart full of love and gratitude. "To a lifetime of learning and growing together," you added.
As you savored the rich, coffee-infused dessert, you reflected on the past year of marriage. It hadn't all been smooth sailing – there had been arguments, misunderstandings, and moments of frustration. But underlying it all was a deep sense of partnership, of being truly known and accepted for who you were.
Later that night, as you lay in bed with Seokjin's arms wrapped around you, you whispered into the darkness, "Thank you for today. For everything."
You felt his lips press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you for marrying me," he murmured back. "For choosing to build a life with me. I can't wait to see what the next year brings."
As you drifted off to sleep, the weight of the bracelet on your wrist was a comforting reminder of the man beside you – the man who knew you better than anyone else in the world, and loved you all the more for it.
-
*17 years ago*
The hospital room was a flurry of activity. Monitors beeped steadily, nurses bustled in and out, and your breaths came in short, panting gasps as another contraction gripped your body. Fifteen hours of labor had left you exhausted, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat, but there was no giving up now.
Through it all, Seokjin was a constant presence at your side. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled, his hair sticking up at odd angles from running his hands through it nervously. But his eyes never left your face, and his hand remained firmly clasped in yours.
"You're doing great, love," he murmured, using his free hand to gently wipe your brow with a cool cloth. "Just a little longer."
You managed a weak smile between contractions. "Easy for you to say," you panted. "You look like you're about to pass out."
It was true – despite his attempts to appear calm and collected, Seokjin's face was pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.
He let out a shaky laugh. "Me? Never. I'm cool as a cucumber. Cool as a... as a... oh god, is that more blood?"
The nurse checking your vitals shot him an amused look. "Maybe you should sit down for a minute, Mr. Kim. We don't want you fainting on us."
Seokjin shook his head stubbornly. "No, I'm fine. I promised I'd be here for every moment, and I meant it." He squeezed your hand tighter, as if to reassure himself as much as you.
Just then, another contraction hit, stronger than the ones before. You cried out, gripping Seokjin's hand so tightly your knuckles turned white.
"Okay, Mrs. Kim," the doctor said, taking her position. "I think we're ready to push. On the next contraction, I want you to give it everything you've got."
The next few minutes were a blur of pain, effort, and encouragement from both the medical staff and Seokjin. Despite his own nervousness, his voice remained steady, coaching you through each push.
"You can do this," he said, his face close to yours. "You're the strongest person I know. Our baby is almost here."
With one final, monumental effort, you pushed with all your might. There was a moment of intense pressure, and then... a cry. A beautiful, piercing wail that filled the room.
"It's a girl!" the doctor announced, holding up a squirming, red-faced bundle.
You collapsed back against the pillows, tears of joy and relief streaming down your face. Seokjin was openly weeping, his eyes fixed on the tiny life that the nurses were quickly cleaning and wrapping in a soft blanket.
"Do you want to cut the cord, Dad?" the nurse asked, offering Seokjin a pair of scissors.
He nodded, unable to speak. With shaking hands, he cut the umbilical cord, officially separating your daughter from you for the first time.
Moments later, the nurse placed the swaddled infant in your arms. You gazed down at her in wonder, taking in her scrunched-up face, the downy hair on her head, the tiny fists waving in the air.
"Hello, little one," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "We've been waiting so long to meet you."
Seokjin perched on the edge of the bed, one arm around you, the other hand gently stroking the baby's cheek. "She's perfect," he said in awe. "Absolutely perfect."
As you both marveled at your newborn daughter, a name that you had discussed months ago suddenly felt right. "Minjee," you said softly. "Her name is Minjee."
Seokjin nodded, tears still glistening in his eyes. "Minjee. Our brilliant jewel."
The next few hours passed in a blur of tests, checks, and a steady stream of nurses and doctors coming to ensure both you and baby Minjee were doing well. Through it all, Seokjin remained by your side, alternating between gazing adoringly at his new daughter and fussing over your comfort.
It wasn't until late in the evening, when things had finally calmed down, that Seokjin suddenly sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Oh! I almost forgot!"
You looked at him quizzically as he scrambled for his phone. "Forgot what?"
"Your post-birth meal!" he exclaimed, already dialing a number. "I promised you anything you wanted after the baby was born, remember?"
You chuckled softly, careful not to disturb the sleeping Minjee in your arms. "Jin, you don't have to-"
But he was already speaking rapidly into the phone, placing an order that made your mouth water just hearing it. When he hung up, he had a triumphant grin on his face.
"Sushi, steak, and fries," he announced proudly. "All your pregnancy cravings in one meal. They'll be here in about an hour."
You shook your head in amazement. "I can't believe you remembered all that. I'm pretty sure I mentioned the sushi craving once, months ago."
Seokjin's expression softened as he looked at you and Minjee. "I remember everything you tell me," he said simply. "Especially when it comes to making you happy."
As promised, an hour later, a veritable feast arrived at your hospital room. The nurses raised their eyebrows at the spread but said nothing as Seokjin carefully arranged the food on the rolling tray table.
You inhaled deeply, savoring the mix of aromas. "This smells amazing," you said, realizing just how hungry you were after the ordeal of childbirth.
Seokjin beamed as he helped you sit up more comfortably, adjusting your pillows and making sure Minjee was secure in her bassinet next to the bed. "Eat as much as you want," he encouraged. "You've more than earned it."
As you tucked into the eclectic mix of foods, savoring flavors you'd been denied for months, you couldn't help but marvel at the man sitting beside you. Even after fifteen grueling hours of labor, even in the face of his own nerves and exhaustion, he was still thinking of ways to care for you.
"Jin," you said between bites of perfectly seared steak, "thank you. For everything. For being here, for staying calm-"
He snorted. "I wasn't that calm."
You smiled. "You were calmer than you think. And this-" you gestured at the food, "this is above and beyond."
Seokjin reached out to take your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "You grew and delivered our child," he said softly. "You're a superhero as far as I'm concerned. The least I can do is make sure you're well-fed and comfortable."
Just then, Minjee began to stir in her bassinet, little whimpers quickly turning into full-fledged cries. Without hesitation, Seokjin stood up.
"I've got her," he said, carefully lifting the tiny bundle into his arms. He cradled her against his chest, swaying gently and humming a soft lullaby.
As you watched your husband comfort your newborn daughter, you felt a surge of love so powerful it brought tears to your eyes. This was your family – the life you and Seokjin had created together.
"I love you," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "Both of you, so much."
Seokjin looked up from Minjee, his eyes shining. "We love you too," he said softly. "More than words can express."
As you finished your meal and settled in for the night, you couldn't help but feel that your little family was complete. Little did you know, the adventures were just beginning.
-
*13 years ago*
The sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains as you sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee cooling in front of you. Your fingers drummed nervously on the smooth wood surface as you waited for Seokjin to join you. Today was the day you'd finally voice the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for months.
Seokjin entered the kitchen, his hair slightly mussed from sleep but his eyes alert. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from you, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in your tense posture.
"What's on your mind, love?" he asked gently. "You've been quiet all week."
You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "Jin, I... I've been thinking about making a change. A big one."
He reached across the table to take your hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your skin. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. We're in this together, remember?"
His words gave you the strength to continue. "I want to resign from my job," you said in a rush. "I want to focus on homeschooling Minjee and... and become a stay-at-home mom."
You held your breath, waiting for his reaction. Your career had always been important to you, and you knew Seokjin respected your dedication to your work. Would he think you were throwing it all away?
To your surprise, Seokjin's face broke into a warm smile. "Is that all? Here I was worried you were going to tell me you wanted to move to Antarctica or something."
You let out a surprised laugh, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. "You're... you're okay with this?"
Seokjin squeezed your hand. "Of course I am. If this is what you want, what you feel is best for you and for Minjee, then I support you completely. But can I ask what brought this on?"
You sighed, gathering your thoughts. "It's been building for a while now. I love my job, you know I do, but lately... I feel like I'm missing so much with Minjee. She's growing so fast, and I don't want to look back and regret not being there for these important years."
Seokjin nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. And homeschooling? That's a big commitment."
"I know," you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. "But I've been researching it, and I really think it could be amazing for her. We could tailor her education to her interests, give her one-on-one attention... And honestly, I'm excited about the challenge."
"Well," Seokjin said, a twinkle in his eye, "if anyone can pull off being a full-time mom, teacher, and still manage to keep me in line, it's you."
You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your chest. "So you really think we can make this work? Financially, I mean?"
Seokjin's expression turned serious. "We'll make it work. My job as head finance manager is stable, and we've always been good at budgeting. It might mean some adjustments, but nothing we can't handle together."
You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his unwavering support. "Thank you," you whispered. "For understanding, for supporting me... for everything."
He stood up and came around the table, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Hey, that's what partners are for. We're a team, remember? Your dreams are my dreams."
As you melted into his embrace, you heard the patter of little feet coming down the hallway. Moments later, a sleepy-eyed Minjee appeared in the doorway, her favorite stuffed rabbit dragging behind her.
"Mommy? Daddy? Why are you hugging? Is it a special day?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
Seokjin scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses until she giggled. "Every day with you two is a special day," he declared. "But yes, we might have some exciting changes coming up. How would you like to have Mommy teach you at home?"
Minjee's eyes widened. "Really? We can do school at home? Can we have recess in the backyard?"
You laughed, reaching out to smooth her tousled hair. "We can definitely have recess in the backyard. And maybe Daddy can be the gym teacher when he gets home from work."
Seokjin puffed out his chest dramatically. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent gym teacher. We'll start with the fine art of dad jokes and work our way up to actual exercise."
As Minjee dissolved into giggles and Seokjin began to demonstrate his 'dad joke workout routine', you felt a sense of peace settle over you. This was the right decision, you were sure of it now.
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity. You submitted your resignation at work, feeling a mix of nostalgia and excitement as you said goodbye to colleagues and cleared out your desk. Seokjin was by your side every step of the way, helping you research homeschooling curricula and transforming the spare room into a bright, cheerful classroom for Minjee.
On your last day of work, you came home to find the dining room table set with your favorite meal, a bouquet of flowers in the center, and a banner hanging across the archway that read "Congratulations on Your New Adventure!"
"What's all this?" you asked, feeling tears spring to your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
Seokjin emerged from the kitchen, wearing an apron and balancing a tray of appetizers. "This is your graduation party," he announced proudly. "You're graduating from one amazing career to another, and that deserves a celebration."
Minjee ran up to you, brandishing a handmade card covered in glitter and stickers. "I made this for you, Mommy! It says 'World's Best Teacher' because you're going to be my teacher now!"
You knelt down to hug her tightly, careful not to smudge the glittery masterpiece. "Thank you, sweetheart. I promise to do my very best."
As you sat down to the feast Seokjin had prepared, you couldn't help but marvel at how lucky you were. Many people might have balked at such a drastic life change, but Seokjin had embraced it wholeheartedly.
"I propose a toast," Seokjin said, raising his glass. "To new beginnings, to following your heart, and to the best teacher-mom in the world."
You clinked your glass against his and Minjee's cup of juice, feeling a surge of love for your little family. "And to the best support system a person could ask for," you added.
As the evening wore on, filled with laughter, good food, and excited planning for the future, you found yourself watching Seokjin. Even after a long day at work, he was fully present, helping Minjee clean up her craft supplies and insisting on doing the dishes despite your protests.
Later that night, as you were getting ready for bed, you caught Seokjin's eye in the bathroom mirror. "You know," you said softly, "I couldn't do this without you. Your support means everything to me."
He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You could do anything you set your mind to," he said firmly. "But I'm honored to be by your side for all of it. We're partners in this life, remember? Your dreams are my dreams."
As you leaned back into his embrace, you felt a sense of excitement for the future. There would be challenges ahead, you knew that. Homeschooling wouldn't always be easy, and adjusting to life as a stay-at-home mom would take time. But with Seokjin by your side, you felt ready to face anything.
"Partners," you echoed, turning in his arms to face him. "Always and forever."
He leaned in to kiss you softly, a promise sealed without words. As you fell asleep that night, Seokjin's steady breathing beside you, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. This new chapter of your life was just beginning, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.
-
*10 years ago*
The afternoon sun streamed through the large windows of your home classroom, where you sat at a small table with Minjee, guiding her through a particularly tricky math problem. Your daughter's brow was furrowed in concentration, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the paper as she worked through the steps you'd shown her.
"I think I've got it, Mom!" Minjee exclaimed suddenly, her face lighting up as she scribbled down the final answer.
You leaned over to check her work, a proud smile spreading across your face. "That's perfect, sweetheart! You've really gotten the hang of these equations."
Minjee beamed at the praise, but her smile faltered slightly as she glanced at the clock on the wall. "Is Dad going to be home for dinner tonight?"
You felt a small pang in your chest at the question. Seokjin had been working longer hours lately, taking on additional responsibilities at work. While you were immensely proud of his dedication and success, you couldn't deny that his absence was felt keenly by both you and Minjee.
"I'm not sure, honey," you answered honestly. "He's been very busy at work lately. But I'm sure he'll try his best to make it home."
As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a text message. You picked it up, hoping to see Seokjin's name, but instead, it was a reminder about the parent-teacher association meeting you'd volunteered to host next week.
You sighed, feeling the familiar tug of conflicting responsibilities. While you loved being home with Minjee and wouldn't trade it for the world, there were times when you missed the structure and social aspects of your old job. And lately, with Seokjin working such long hours, you'd been feeling the weight of managing everything at home largely on your own.
"Mom?" Minjee's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "Can we be done with math for today? I want to work on my art project."
You nodded, pushing aside your worries for the moment. "Of course, sweetie. Why don't you go set up in the living room? I'll clean up here and join you in a few minutes."
As Minjee scampered off, you began tidying up the classroom, your mind still churning. You and Seokjin had always been a team, supporting each other's dreams and sharing responsibilities. But lately, it felt like the balance had shifted, and you weren't sure how to address it without sounding ungrateful for the life you'd chosen.
Just as you were finishing up, you heard the front door open. Surprised, you glanced at the clock – it was barely past five.
"I'm home!" Seokjin's voice called out, followed by the sound of Minjee's excited squeal.
You made your way to the living room, where you found Seokjin scooping Minjee up into a big hug, his briefcase and jacket discarded by the door.
"You're home early," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.
Seokjin set Minjee down and crossed the room to you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "I missed my girls," he said simply, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
As you relaxed into his arms, you felt some of the tension you'd been carrying start to melt away. But you knew you needed to talk about the thoughts that had been weighing on you.
"Jin," you started, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Can we talk later? After Minjee's in bed?"
A flicker of concern crossed his face, but he nodded. "Of course. Everything okay?"
You gave him a small smile. "It will be. I just... there are some things I think we need to discuss."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of family dinner, helping Minjee with her art project, and the usual bedtime routine. Throughout it all, you could feel Seokjin's eyes on you, clearly worried about what you wanted to talk about.
Finally, with Minjee tucked in and the house quiet, you and Seokjin settled onto the couch in the living room. He took your hand in his, his thumb tracing familiar patterns on your skin.
"What's on your mind, love?" he asked gently.
You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "Jin, I... I'm struggling a bit lately. With the balance of everything."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I love being home with Minjee," you hurried to clarify. "I don't regret that decision for a second. But lately, with you working such long hours... I feel like I'm juggling everything on my own. The house, Minjee's education, the day-to-day stuff. And I miss... us. The team we used to be."
Seokjin's face fell, a look of guilt replacing his confusion. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... I've been so focused on work, on providing for our family, that I didn't see how it was affecting you both."
You squeezed his hand. "I know you're working hard for us. And I'm so proud of you for that. I just... I guess I'm feeling a bit lost. Like I'm not sure where I fit anymore, beyond being Minjee's mom and teacher."
Seokjin pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. "You are so much more than that," he said fiercely. "You're my partner, my best friend, the love of my life. And I've been taking that for granted lately. I'm sorry."
You felt tears prick at your eyes, relief flooding through you at finally voicing your feelings. "I don't want you to feel guilty," you said. "I just... I think we need to find a better balance. For all of us."
Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You're right. We do. And we will. Starting right now."
He stood up suddenly, pulling you to your feet. "Come on," he said, a familiar twinkle returning to his eye.
"Where are we going?" you asked, laughing despite your confusion.
"To the kitchen," he announced. "We're going to make a plan. Like we used to when we were first married, remember?"
You followed him, a warm feeling spreading through your chest as you remembered the many late nights you'd spent at the kitchen table, planning your future together over cups of tea and sheets of paper.
Seokjin pulled out a notepad and two pens, setting them on the table with a flourish. "Okay," he said, his tone serious but his eyes sparkling. "Let's figure this out. Together."
For the next few hours, you and Seokjin talked, laughed, and occasionally argued as you hashed out a new plan for your family. You discussed ways for Seokjin to cut back his hours at work, ideas for getting more involved in the community to give you more adult interaction, and strategies for sharing household responsibilities more evenly.
As the night wore on, you found yourself remembering all the reasons you'd fallen in love with this man in the first place. His willingness to listen, his creativity in problem-solving, his unwavering support of your dreams and needs.
By the time you finally crawled into bed, the first light of dawn was starting to peek through the curtains. But you felt lighter than you had in months, secure in the knowledge that you and Seokjin were still the team you'd always been.
As you curled up next to him, his arm automatically wrapping around you, Seokjin pressed a kiss to your temple. "Thank you," he murmured.
"For what?" you asked sleepily.
"For reminding me what's really important," he said. "For being my partner in every sense of the word. I love you, more than ever."
You snuggled closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. "I love you too," you whispered. "Always and forever."
As you drifted off to sleep, you felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for the future. You and Seokjin had faced challenges before, and you'd face more in the years to come. But together, you could handle anything life threw your way.
The next morning, as you all sat around the breakfast table, Minjee looked back and forth between you and Seokjin, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Did something happen?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry. "You both look... different."
You exchanged a smile with Seokjin before turning to your daughter. "Nothing bad happened, sweetheart," you assured her. "Your dad and I just had a good talk last night about how we can spend more time together as a family."
Seokjin reached across the table to ruffle Minjee's hair affectionately. "That's right, kiddo. In fact, I was thinking maybe we could start having a weekly family game night. What do you think?"
Minjee's face lit up with excitement. "Really? Can we play Monopoly? Oh, or maybe that new strategy game I got for my birthday?"
As Minjee rattled off a list of potential games, you caught Seokjin's eye over her head. The love and determination you saw there made your heart swell. You knew there would still be challenges ahead, but you felt ready to face them together.
-
*5 years ago*
The soft strains of classical music drifted through the house as you stood in front of an easel in the spare room, now converted into a makeshift art studio. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the canvas before you, where splashes of vibrant color were starting to take shape into something resembling a landscape.
You stepped back, tilting your head as you considered your work. It wasn't perfect by any means, but there was something deeply satisfying about seeing your vision come to life through brush strokes and paint.
"Mom! Dad's home!" Minjee's voice called from downstairs, interrupting your artistic reverie.
You glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already past six. You'd been so engrossed in your painting that you'd lost track of time completely.
Quickly wiping your paint-stained hands on a nearby cloth, you made your way downstairs to find Seokjin hanging up his coat, Minjee already regaling him with tales of her day.
"...and then in science class, we dissected a frog! It was gross but so cool, Dad. I think I might want to be a biologist when I grow up. Or maybe a vet. Or maybe..."
Seokjin caught your eye over Minjee's head, his lips quirking into an amused smile at your daughter's enthusiasm. As Minjee paused for breath, he took the opportunity to greet you.
"There's my beautiful artist," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss. "How's the masterpiece coming along?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "Hardly a masterpiece, but it's coming along. I got a bit carried away and lost track of time, I'm afraid. I haven't even started dinner yet."
"No worries," Seokjin said, already rolling up his sleeves. "I'll whip something up. You two can fill me in on your day while I cook."
As you settled at the kitchen island with Minjee, watching Seokjin move efficiently around the kitchen, you marveled at how much had changed in the past five years. True to his word, Seokjin had made a concerted effort to balance his work and home life better. He'd delegated more at the office, started coming home earlier most days, and had become much more involved in Minjee's homeschooling.
And you... well, you'd discovered a passion you never knew you had.
It had started innocently enough, with you joining Minjee for her art lessons as a way to encourage her creativity. But something about the feel of a paintbrush in your hand, the endless possibilities of a blank canvas, had awakened something in you.
What began as a casual hobby quickly grew into a full-blown passion. You'd taken online classes, joined local art groups, and slowly but surely, your skills had improved. The spare room had been transformed into your studio, and you found yourself spending more and more time there, losing yourself in the joy of creation.
Seokjin had been nothing but supportive, encouraging you to pursue this new interest with the same fervor he applied to everything in life. He'd even surprised you on your last anniversary with a set of professional-grade paints and brushes, along with a promise to watch Minjee anytime you wanted to attend a workshop or art retreat.
"Earth to Mom," Minjee's voice broke into your thoughts. "Dad asked if you wanted carrots in the stir fry."
You blinked, focusing on Seokjin's expectant face. "Oh! Yes, carrots would be great. Sorry, I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you two supporting my art journey."
Seokjin's expression softened. "We're the lucky ones," he said. "Watching you discover and nurture this talent has been amazing. Speaking of which..." He trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.
You raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, what?"
"Well," he said, turning back to the stove to hide his grin, "I may have done something. A surprise, of sorts."
Minjee perked up at this. "Ooh, what kind of surprise? Can I know too?"
Seokjin chuckled. "You already know, squirt. In fact, you helped me plan it."
Now you were really curious. "Okay, you two. Spill it. What's going on?"
Seokjin exchanged a look with Minjee before turning back to you. "I may have... submitted some of your paintings to that local art show you were too nervous to enter. And they may have... accepted them."
Your jaw dropped. "You what? Jin, I... those weren't ready! I'm not ready! I can't-"
"Yes, you can," Seokjin interrupted gently, coming around the island to take your hands in his. "Love, your work is beautiful. It deserves to be seen. And you deserve to be recognized for your talent."
Minjee nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Mom! Your paintings are awesome. Everyone's going to love them!"
You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you – fear, excitement, gratitude, love. "I don't know what to say," you managed finally.
Seokjin pulled you into a hug. "Say you'll do it. Say you'll let the world see how amazing you are."
As you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent, you felt a surge of courage. This man, who had supported you through career changes, parenthood, and now this new artistic endeavor, believed in you completely. How could you not believe in yourself?
You pulled back, looking from Seokjin to Minjee and back again. "Okay," you said, your voice stronger now. "Okay, I'll do it."
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of preparation. You spent hours in your studio, touching up paintings and agonizing over which pieces to display. Seokjin and Minjee were your constant cheerleaders, offering encouragement and honest feedback in equal measure.
The night of the art show arrived all too quickly. As you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit for the hundredth time, you felt a familiar wave of nervousness wash over you.
"You look beautiful," Seokjin's voice came from the doorway. You turned to see him leaning against the frame, looking handsome in a suit, his eyes warm with pride and love.
"I'm terrified," you admitted, smoothing down your dress again.
He crossed the room to you, taking your hands in his. "I know. But you're also brave, and talented, and absolutely incredible. You've got this."
You took a deep breath, drawing strength from his unwavering faith in you. "Okay. Let's do this."
The art show was held in a converted warehouse space, the white walls lined with paintings and sculptures from local artists. Your pieces were displayed in a small corner, but to you, they might as well have been in the Louvre.
As people began to mill around, examining the artwork and sipping wine, you felt your nerves return full force. But then you felt a warm hand slip into yours – Seokjin, a steady presence at your side. On your other side, Minjee stood tall and proud, eagerly pointing out your paintings to anyone who would listen.
"And this one," she was saying to an elderly couple, "is inspired by our family camping trip last summer. See how Mom captured the way the sunlight filtered through the trees?"
You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched your daughter enthusiastically promote your work. She had grown so much, no longer the little girl who needed help with her math homework, but a confident young woman with a mind of her own.
As the evening wore on, you found yourself relaxing, even enjoying the conversations with other artists and art enthusiasts. People seemed genuinely interested in your work, asking about your techniques and inspiration.
Near the end of the night, a woman in a stylish blazer approached you, a business card in hand. "I run a small gallery downtown," she said, her eyes bright with interest. "I'd love to feature some of your work in our upcoming showcase of emerging artists. Would you be interested?"
You felt Seokjin's hand tighten around yours, a silent show of support. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence. "Yes," you heard yourself say. "Yes, I'd be very interested."
As the woman walked away, promising to be in touch, you turned to Seokjin, your eyes wide with disbelief and excitement. "Did that really just happen?"
He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It really did. I'm so proud of you, love. You took a chance on yourself, and look where it's led."
As you stood there in his embrace, surrounded by your art and with Minjee beaming beside you, you felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over you. This journey – from career woman to stay-at-home mom to budding artist – hadn't always been easy. But with Seokjin by your side, supporting you every step of the way, you had found a path that felt truly yours.
"Thank you," you whispered, looking up into his eyes. "For believing in me. For encouraging me to follow this dream."
Seokjin's smile was soft and full of love. "Always," he said simply. "Your dreams are my dreams, remember?"
As you left the art show that night, your hand in Seokjin's and Minjee chattering excitedly about your potential gallery showcase, you felt a sense of excitement for what the future might hold. Whatever came next, you knew you'd face it together, as you always had.
-
*2 years ago*
The waiting room of the doctor's office was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional rustle of papers as the receptionist worked at her desk. You sat rigid in your chair, your hand clasped tightly in Seokjin's, as you waited for your name to be called.
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of tests and specialists, all stemming from some persistent symptoms you'd initially brushed off as just part of getting older. But Seokjin, ever attentive, had insisted you get checked out. Now, here you were, waiting for results that could potentially change everything.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kim?" a nurse called, appearing in the doorway with a clipboard.
You stood on shaky legs, Seokjin's arm immediately going around your waist to steady you. As you followed the nurse down the hallway, you felt a mix of fear and gratitude – fear for what you might learn, and gratitude for the man beside you, solid and unwavering in his support.
The doctor, a kind-faced woman in her fifties, greeted you with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Your heart sank, already anticipating bad news.
"We've got your test results back," she began, her voice gentle. "I'm afraid it's not what we were hoping for."
The next few minutes passed in a blur as the doctor explained your diagnosis – a chronic autoimmune condition that, while not life-threatening, would require significant lifestyle changes and ongoing treatment to manage.
You sat in stunned silence as she outlined treatment options and potential side effects. Through it all, Seokjin's hand remained firmly clasped in yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin.
"I know this is a lot to take in," the doctor said finally. "Do you have any questions?"
You opened your mouth to speak, but found you couldn't form words. Seokjin squeezed your hand gently before addressing the doctor.
"What can we do to help manage the symptoms?" he asked, his voice steady despite the concern etched on his face. "Are there dietary changes we should make? Exercise routines?"
As the doctor answered his questions, you marveled at Seokjin's ability to stay focused, to think practically even in the face of such daunting news. He asked about support groups, about the latest research, about how this might affect your art career.
By the time you left the office, laden with pamphlets and prescriptions, you felt overwhelmed but not alone. Seokjin's arm was around you as you walked to the car, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your thoughts.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly as you buckled your seatbelt.
You took a shaky breath. "Scared," you admitted. "Overwhelmed. I don't... I don't know how to process this."
Seokjin reached over to take your hand. "That's okay. We'll process it together, one day at a time. We've faced challenges before, and we'll face this one too."
As you drove home, Seokjin outlined a plan of action – researching the best specialists, looking into natural remedies to complement your prescribed treatment, adjusting your diet. His calm, methodical approach helped soothe your frayed nerves.
"What about my art?" you asked suddenly, a new wave of worry washing over you. "What if the medications affect my ability to paint?"
Seokjin glanced at you, his eyes full of determination. "Then we'll find new ways for you to express your creativity. Maybe we'll explore digital art, or sculpture, or any other medium that works for you. Your talent isn't confined to just one form, love."
His unwavering faith in you brought tears to your eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?" you whispered.
He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "You're you. That's more than enough."
The next few months were challenging as you adjusted to your new reality. There were good days and bad days, days when the medications left you too fatigued to get out of bed, and days when you felt almost normal.
Through it all, Seokjin was your rock. He took time off work to accompany you to doctor's appointments, researched recipes for anti-inflammatory meals, and even learned how to give you injections when your hands were too shaky to do it yourself.
Minjee, now in her last year of high school, stepped up in ways that made your heart swell with pride. She took on more chores around the house without being asked, and spent hours researching your condition, often presenting you and Seokjin with the latest studies over dinner.
One evening, about six months after your diagnosis, you were sitting in your studio, staring at a blank canvas. Your hands ached too much to hold a brush, and frustration burned in your chest.
Seokjin found you there, tears of frustration streaking your cheeks. Without a word, he sat beside you, pulling you into his arms.
"I can't do it," you sobbed into his shirt. "I can't paint. What if I never can again?"
He held you tighter, his chin resting on top of your head. "Then we'll find another way," he said softly. "Your art isn't just what you create with your hands, love. It's how you see the world, how you interpret beauty and emotion. That hasn't changed."
You pulled back to look at him, wiping your eyes. "How are you always so positive?"
His smile was tender as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Because I have faith in you. In us. We've weathered storms before, and we'll weather this one too."
Inspired by his words, you began to explore new forms of art. On days when your hands cooperated, you painted. On days when they didn't, you experimented with digital art, or dictated vivid descriptions of the images in your mind for Seokjin or Minjee to sketch.
Slowly but surely, you found a new rhythm. Your art evolved, taking on new depths as you channeled your experiences into your work. The local gallery that had shown interest in your pieces before your diagnosis reached out again, this time proposing a solo exhibition.
"Resilience," you decided to call it. A showcase of your journey, from your early landscapes to your latest mixed-media pieces that incorporated digital elements and traditional painting.
The night of the exhibition opening, you stood in the gallery, surrounded by your work. Seokjin was by your side, as always, his arm around your waist, a proud smile on his face.
"You did it," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You leaned into him, feeling a surge of love and gratitude. "We did it," you corrected. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."
As you mingled with the guests, accepting congratulations and discussing your pieces, you caught sight of Minjee across the room. She was animatedly explaining one of your paintings to a group of her friends, her face alight with pride. Your heart swelled at the sight of your daughter, now a young woman on the cusp of starting college, so confident and passionate.
Later that night, as you and Seokjin were getting ready for bed, he pulled you into his arms, his eyes shining with emotion.
"Do you remember," he said softly, "twenty years ago, when we first got married? If someone had told us then about all the ups and downs we'd face, all the challenges and triumphs, do you think we would have believed them?"
You thought about it for a moment, then shook your head with a smile. "Probably not. But I wouldn't change a single moment of it."
Seokjin's arms tightened around you. "Neither would I. Every step of this journey has just made me love you more."
As you drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped in Seokjin's embrace, you felt a profound sense of peace. Life hadn't always been easy, but with Seokjin by your side, you had faced every challenge head-on and come out stronger for it.
- Back to the Present
The warm afternoon sun filtering through the curtains brought you back to the present moment. Across from you, Minjee was still poised with her tablet, a look of awe on her face as she finished jotting down notes from your trip down memory lane.
"Wow, Mom," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "I knew you and Dad had a special relationship, but hearing about it like this... it's incredible."
You smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Your father is an incredible man. We've had our ups and downs, like any couple, but he's always been my rock, my biggest supporter."
Minjee nodded, her eyes shining. "I hope I find someone who loves me even half as much as Dad loves you."
"You will, sweetheart," you assured her. "Just remember, love isn't just about the big romantic gestures. It's about the everyday moments, the small kindnesses, the willingness to stand by each other through thick and thin."
Just then, you heard the front door open, followed by Seokjin's familiar voice calling out, "I'm home!"
Moments later, he appeared in the doorway of the living room, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. Despite the lines that time had etched around his eyes and mouth, his smile was as bright and warm as ever.
"How are my favorite girls?" he asked, crossing the room to press a kiss to the top of your head before ruffling Minjee's hair affectionately.
"We're good, Dad," Minjee said, batting his hand away with a laugh. "Mom's been telling me all about your love story for my project. It's pretty amazing stuff."
Seokjin's eyes met yours, a lifetime of shared memories passing between you in that single glance. "Well," he said, his voice warm with affection, "when you're married to the most amazing woman in the world, it's hard not to have an amazing story."
You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, marveling at how, even after all these years, Seokjin could still make your heart flutter like a lovestruck teenager.
"Alright, you two," Minjee groaned, though her smile betrayed her feigned disgust. "Save the mushy stuff for when I'm not around."
You all laughed, the sound filling the room with warmth and joy. As Seokjin settled onto the couch beside you, his arm automatically going around your shoulders, you leaned into his familiar embrace.
Twenty years of marriage. Twenty years of love, laughter, tears, challenges, and triumphs. As you sat there, surrounded by the two people you loved most in the world, you felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over you.
Life hadn't always been easy. There had been moments of doubt, of fear, of frustration. But through it all, Seokjin had been there, his love a constant beacon guiding you home. Together, you had built a life filled with love, creativity, and resilience.
You turned to look at Seokjin, finding his eyes already on you, filled with the same love and adoration you'd seen on your wedding day two decades ago. Without words, you both leaned in, sharing a soft, tender kiss.
"Ugh, guys," Minjee's playful complaint brought you back to the present. "I said save it for later!"
You and Seokjin broke apart, laughing. As you settled back against his side, his arm tightening around you, you couldn't help but smile. This was your life – imperfect, challenging at times, but filled with more love than you had ever dreamed possible.
And as for the future? Well, with Seokjin by your side and Minjee blazing her own trail, you couldn't wait to see what the next twenty years would bring.
#btswritersclub#kvanity#bangtancastle#seokjin#kim seokjin#bts#bts fic#bts imagine#bangtan jin#married seokjin#dad seokjin#seokjin x reader#seokjin x reader fics#bts jin#jin x reader#jin fics#seokjin fics#seokjin imagines#jin imagine
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Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.
Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.
Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.
But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.
For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.
Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.
So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.
But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.
If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.
Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.
He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.
Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.
Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.
The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.
Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.
Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.
Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)
Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.
All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit.
Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.
Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.
And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.
Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.
And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.
It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.
Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.
(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)
While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.
#soapbox#dc#thad thawne#thaddeus thawne#inertia#bart allen#impulse#like he cannot be mean indiscriminately... u must interrogate WHY hes mean and to whom#if hes being raised with Max and Helen he would not intentionally do anything to make their lives more difficult#if hes being raised by Meloni same situation#he needs to be trying to get validation from SOMEWHERE u know#and of course he'll mess up and hurt the people he loves or wants to impress he is a human being#but while that can sometimes be the result#that is never the Goal u kno#not his Core Motivation#i feel like the more i talk about this the less sense im making
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Beefleaf fanfic prompt
AU where He Xuan changes his mind just before starting his revenge and decides to go in another route.
Not because he fell in love with Shi Qingxuan. Nope.
He reveals everything to the gods about the switch.
He asks for Shi Wudu's punishement. He wants to see him lose everything, loses everything he manages to have since he became a god, he wants to see him being banished. Being helpless. Killing him would be too easy. Too quick. He wants him to suffer.
But it's not all.
He asks to marry Shi Qingxuan. He'll not accept that Shi Qingxuan loses his divinity because he does a good job and has a good heart, and he's innocent but "since Shi Wudu sacrificed me to keep his brother, then i want his brother. Shi Qingxuan took my life, even if it wasn't his choice and that he wasn't aware of it, so he belongs to me!"
So no only Shi Wudu will loses EVERYTHING but he'll also lose his brother and will never see him again. He'll know that his brother will stay a god, even under He Xuan's control but he'll know that he'll never be authorized to see him again. He'll never know how his brother is treated, or stuff like that. He'll know that his brother has to marry a powerful ghost who want him to suffer.
That's the worse for him.
Worse than the lose of his divinity.
Shi Qingxuan is a little terrified and devasted (yeah no wonder) and thinks he'll be treated badly/will be a prisoner, maybe a slave, but he's treated very well.
He has has a big comfy bedroom in He Xuan's manor, nice clothes, delicious food and wine. And He Xuan will never do something he doesn't want.
"You are not putting me in a cell?
What kind of husband do you think i am Qingxuan!?"
Edit:
The Gods are reluctant about the situation, but it was their only situation to make He Xuan satisfied. They didn't want to risk a second version of what Hua Cheng had done with 33 gods. They lost the Water Tyran, fine. But they have still the Wind Master. They could have lost both. and what would be the heavens reputation after that? Jun Wu has insisted for that Shi Qingxuan assists to the most important reunions. He Xuan was reluctant but he let his wife/husband being a god(ness) so he can't really say no. He always leave a clone to watch him and says that Pei Ming and Ling Wen can't interact with him because they are his brother's friends!
So at first, Shi Qingxuan doesn't see a lot He Xuan. The ghost avoids him, thinking that the wind master doesn't want to see him. Or that he misses his old life in Heaven, his brother...
So after the first night where nothing happened because He Xuan doesn't want to force him, they barely interact.
They still marry to ghost city as a kind of "fuck you" to Heaven and to Shi Wudu. And so Hua Cheng has increased He Xuan's debt because of that.
He Xuan had also engaged people from Ghost City to work at his manor, so it would be comfortable for his husband/wife. Soi he engaged a cook, and two persons to clean and a gardener for the little garden of his manor.
Shi Qingxuan has a big comfy room, with a living room in the next room where he can paint, does calligraphy, plays music, reads book. But he's quickly bored. He speaks with the employees, asks if he can help. They all refuse because it's the lady of the manor. Their master's wife/huband.
The Gardener accepts to listen his requests of plants he would like to see in the garden. And the cooks listens when he asks for a particular dishes or dessert.
But Shi Qingxuan is SO bored.
He always eat alone.
He can leave three hours by days for help his followers.
But he can't exactly travel. Or visit locations. Or go the theater for exemple. He doesn't dare to ask He Xuan.
He goes out of the manor too, and walk on the island. He has a bracelet who stop him to leave the island when he's not busy to help followers. So he can't leave and nobody can make him leave, except Black Water.
He can walk in the little wood, among the trees and the wild plants. He can stay on, the beach, watching the sea and the bones fishes who ome to the surface to watch him too. He has even pet some of them after some time.
But he spends a lot of time alone, even if he can speak via spiritual array with Xie Lian and some gods like Lian Qianqiu.
He decides to write letters to He Xuan and slide them under the door of He Xuan's bedroom. Since the guy avoids him. (How dare he? Marrying him and neglected him. Well it's better than killing him he guess)
And so they start to exchange letters at first.
The events of the ends of the book happens.
And Then, after everything is over, He Xuan starts to show up to eat with him, even if he doesn't speak a lot.
Then he starts to answer to Shi Qingxuan.
He lets him go in the library of the manor who was close until now.
He lets him visit Xie Lian as much he wants. Or return to the Heavens to visit friends if he wants. The only rule is to not see Shi Wudu or going close of Shi Wudu's friends. Because that's still a punishement for Wudu after all.
Prompt free for adoption =)
If you are inspired, you can write it =)
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i just finished this fic! it's good!
and because it's all done i want to like... be a LITTLE self indulgent and talk under the cut about some miscellaneous things that i ran into while writing it. don't click the readmore if you're interested in the fic and haven't read it yet i'm about to spoil the Whole thing.
also there is an epilogue to this fic now - go read that before this post if you're getting to this before the update!!
so!! i haven't written fanfiction in like FIVE YEARS. it's been a while! part of that is because i was doing original stuff and part of it was i was in a creative slump. so isat kind of dug me out of that and i owe it my thanks. i've been able to do a crazy amount of original work since starting this fic, it's brought back my creative discipline. in like seven years when my video game comes out you can thank isat for that probably
i originally set out thinking this was the only fic for isat i was going to write. and then as i was writing this i fell deeper into it. i kind of got out of isat a little disappointed in how it ended?? but now that i'm here i'm like ah it's fine. just cause i would have done something different in dev's position doesn't mean it's bad. it does mean i can write a bunch of fanfiction exploring things i wish had been tackled more in the game though LOL
i said this in one of the chapter authors notes but i DID start out curtain call hating loop with every fiber of my being. (as in i liked them as a character UNTIL the act 6 reveal which i thought was lame) and then i played through the game a second time knowing the loop twist and went "oh nvm this makes sense" so a lot of the loop stuff in this fic was actually written twice. originally i was just gonna have them soulmerge with siffrin and not be present at all but then i was like. no. i do want to keep this lighthearted and that's too depressing of an end for loop. i do have a loop postcanon doc so i'll go repay them for their slapdashed involvement in curtain call someday
i'm in a weird position with curtain call in that i wrote the themes and major conflicts Directly After playing through isat the first time. before i could really marinate and analyze the characters fully. so there are a lot of scenes and points where i think i wouldn't characterize certain people like that if i were to rewrite this from scratch? however i don't disagree with what i've written either - it's just an interpretation that i don't necessarily think is my favorite anymore.
neither is any of the worldbuilding i did for any of this - it works for curtain call and i think it was nice but i don't necessarily think it's my current interpretation of what the culture and people were like? i like the wishes being permanent thing, i like the language stuff, but i'd probably go in a different direction if i went through this again
i do actually still think "the forgotten island was destroyed by a volcano" is my solid headcanon explanation of what happened to it. in my heart. i think like - with siffrin as a character especially it's very important that he's always missing something, that it's not idyllically happy for them at the end of everything. so even if he can remember more from their own past, it's - you know - there's no way to go back. only forward.
in the vein of this i probably could have killed siffrin/loop's entire childhood family but i did not. mostly because i did think it was fun for him to have to explain all of those cultural taboos they broke to survive. which, of course, was not a big deal - any good parent would rather their kid be alive than lawful - but what is isat other than a vehicle to make siffrin work through every moral compulsion and spiral they experience
i had a thought halfway through writing the fic that i was stepping on the very good and beautiful odile friendquest by making the island real and having a lot of siffrin's personality dictate how it went. but i ultimately decided on keeping siffrin very close to their country, more than odile is to vaugarde, because siffrin actually DID live on the island when he was a kid and that i think is a Different type of "longing for your country" trauma than odile's. i think they can still drink over the feelings together though
writing bonnie is very fun but very emotional for me. the bonnie&siffrin age gap (preteen to late-20s) is the exact age gap between me and my niece so every time i need to sit down and write something for them i think about her and how much she's a little baby growing up. this has nothing to do with bonnie it just makes writing bonnie really hard for me
if the entire history of my ao3 account was not an indicator, i'm a very big fan of writing romance, but i did not want it to take over curtain call at all. i also could have left out sloopis entirely and almost did, but thought "you know. with the way loop functions in this fic. i should at least let that be open ended" cause sharing a body with a version of you who is dating some other guy is gonna get messy no matter what. it's just not necessarily something i had time to or the urge to explore here. think of it as a fun spiritual nod to the fact that isafrin is technically open ended in isat (<- cop out answer)
i think i'm pretty vocal in how much i am absolutely insane for the flashback "happiest i can remember being" conversation. who let them do that. i think a lot of how i worked with mirabelle and siffrin's relationship in this fic kind of revolved around that. important to me that it ends with mira checking in on him and getting the answer she was looking for all along <3
overall i'm happy with curtain call. glad i am done with it though. there's so much that's running in with it at once. i'll probably wait a month and reread the whole thing to myself front to back before i start having fond memories of this. i mean it's always gonna be the fic my nephew was born during and i'll always remember having a panic attack in the airport right after posting chapter 7 but it's gonna be weird letting this one sail off into the ocean of the internet. however feel free to ask anything about the fic, i wrote this in a lil hurry on a bad day and probably didn't cover everything
goodbye, curtain call!! i love you!!!!! i'll miss you!!!!
[looks both ways, waiting for most people to leave]
also. if you've read this far. i hope it's not too gauche of me to link my personal project. if you've read over 100k words of this you might enjoy the game i'm developing? i've been working on it for almost a year but i just started the devlog last month. it's still in early baby stages as far as a full video game goes but if you liked this you'll like the game when it comes out (similar nickname culture, timeloop trauma, petty interpersonal drama, very stupid jokes, natural disaster angst)
also there isn't a lot on the devblog yet, i've mostly been doing programming on it, i JUST started visdev i'm sorry if it's uglyyyyy (FOR NOW)
anyway i'm trusting you with that link. i'm going to use my professional name on that project when it airs don't cross the wires pretty please just pretend that's a butch-y cis woman's game <3 guard the closet door babeyyyyy
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Worried About Traction/Why Write?
Anonymous asked: Okay answer me this, so I've read how trad publishing is going to shit, but self-publishing I doubt I could gain any traction with. Then why fucking write, ya know? People say, "write for yourself," which sounds like a lot of goody bullshit. I want people to love my writing, I need some type of validation. So, how the hell do I get anyone to care about my stories?
Just a quick note that this ask came in off Anon, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to, so I put I'm posting it Anon to be on the safe side.
So, I don't want to get too much into the "is traditional publishing dying" debacle, because it's a conversation that's complex and nuanced and outside of my energy reserves at the moment. What I will say is that the traditional publishers--the Big Five in particular--still dominate the market, especially where print books are concerned. And although self-publishing can respond more quickly to trends and shifting tastes, traditional publishing continues to evolve.
Having said that, even if traditional publishing was stronger than ever before, that wouldn't guarantee you a book deal. Even in the best of times, the odds of being traditionally published are between 1 and 2%. Even if you get a book deal, that doesn't guarantee your book will be a best-seller. Hundreds of thousands of books are traditionally published every year, and far fewer than 1% of those books will become best sellers. Being traditionally published doesn't even guarantee your book will be sold in brick and mortar bookstores. I can point you toward traditionally published books that have been out almost a year and still have fewer than 10 reviews on Amazon. I can point you toward many more with fewer than 30.
And, while we're on the subject, I can show you self-published books with thousands of reviews (positive ones, btw...)
The point is, it doesn't really matter how you publish. What you write, how you write, and how you market is far, far more important. But the reality is, most of us aren't writing the kinds of books that are going to be best-sellers, BookTok sensations, Oprah's Book Club selections, or get optioned for film rights before the ink on the book deal is even dry. So, when you say you need validation, what does that look like for you? Does it mean seeing your name at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks straight? Seeing your book on eye-level shelves at an international airport? Hundreds of fans showing up to your book signing? A-hundred thousand followers on Twitter eagerly awaiting news of your next release? Or, does it look like someone... anyone... enjoying your book enough to leave a 5-star review... someone calling you their favorite writer, several fans re-posting your cover reveal because they're so excited for your upcoming book, or someone writing to say your book got them through a difficult time in their lives? Because, while I would never tell you not to dare to dream of achieving the former list of expectations, I will absolutely tell you the latter list of expectations is well within your grasp. So, if that's validation enough for you, write for those people. If it isn't, and it's not enough to write for yourself, then I think all you can do is try. Write the best stories you can write. Get them out there. Promote the hell out of them and see what happens. Maybe you will be one of those lucky few who see their book at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks in a row. Or, maybe you won't, but you get a two-page e-mail from a fan who says your story changed their life. And maybe, after all, that's enough. Here are some posts that can help you start building a following ahead of publishing, whatever route you end up choosing. Building a buzz on social media ahead of publishing and consistent promotion afterward can make a big difference. Even if you publish traditionally. Guide: Getting Your Writing Noticed on Tumblr Guide: Author Platforms-What, Why, and How? Guide: How to Promote Yourself as a Writer/Author via Social Media 12 Sites for Sharing Original Fiction
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My Birthday Baby
Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader
Summary: You always do everything in your power to make sure that Bradley’s birthday is as perfect and special as he is, but it’s much harder to do this year when you’re seven months pregnant with his baby.
Word Count: 5.7k
Author’s Note: I can’t believe it’s been over four months since I’ve written a proper story for the Bradshaws! That feels criminal! Naturally, I couldn’t let Bradley’s birthday pass by without some type of celebration!
Warnings: Pregnancy, implied sex, subtle innuendos, a dash of angst, and a whole lot of signature Bradshaw fluff.
Barring perhaps Christmas, today was one of your absolute favorite days out of the entire year.
To most people, June 27th might not be any particular cause for celebration, but to you, it was one of the most important days on the calendar. If you could, you’d turn it into a national holiday so that everyone could commemorate it. Why, some might ask? Because it was the day your incredible husband had entered the world, and Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw deserved to be honored and celebrated more than anyone else you knew.
For as long as he had been in your life, you had done everything in your power to make sure that each and every one of Bradley’s birthdays was as special as he was, and that he could feel just how loved he was.
“My mom always made a big deal out of my birthdays,” he had told you early on in your relationship, shrugging it off and blushing slightly, like he was almost a little embarrassed about it. “She used to tell me that the day I was born was the best day of her and my dad’s lives, so we had to celebrate big. After she passed, I kind of just pretended like it was any other day. Didn’t feel right celebrating with her and my dad both gone.”
It was then that you realized he wasn’t embarrassed about the big birthday parties his mom had thrown him—he missed them. Even though the two of you had only been dating for a few months, you were coming to know him like the back of your hand and you could pick up on the subtle clues that revealed how he was feeling. The pink hue to his cheeks and ears, the way he shrugged it off like it was no big deal and kept averting his gaze, the tightness in his jaw as he swallowed a few times—he was trying to mask the emotion his admission had dredged up.
“Your birthday is a special day,” you’d told him softly, reaching out and placing your hand over his, your fingertips lightly dancing across his knuckles. “And I think your parents would want you to celebrate that. I know that I want to celebrate it.”
He had just kissed you in response, burying his face in your neck to hide the fact that his dark eyes were wet.
But a few weeks later, when his first birthday as your boyfriend rolled around, you surprised him with tickets to a Padres game and you were certain that you had never seen a bigger smile on anyone’s face. The way he beamed at you, his eyes brimming with the love he never failed to shower upon you, would be engraved on your heart for the rest of your days, you were sure of it.
After that, every time June 27th rolled around, you made sure to make it the big celebration that Carole would have wanted. From weekend trips, to surprise parties, to special gifts that brought your big, tough fighter pilot to tears, nothing was too elaborate or too good for your Bradley.
“Thank you, honey,” he had whispered in your ear on his last birthday, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you held each other close. “Thank you for always making this day better than I could have dreamed.”
And this year was going to be the best yet. It might look a little different than previous years, but you were more determined than ever to shower your husband with all the love and affection that he so deserved.
Rolling over onto your back gingerly, you placed both hands on the rounded mound of your belly and smiled sleepily. A cursory glance at your alarm clock had revealed that it was a few minutes after six, the sun just barely starting to break through the morning clouds outside your bedroom window. Rubbing the underside of your bump tenderly, you felt a small kick and your smile grew wider.
“It’s Daddy’s birthday today, Baby B,” you whispered, poking your belly playfully. “Are you going to help me celebrate?”
As if in response, you felt another firm kick and you had to bite back a laugh to keep from waking up Bradley. At seven months pregnant, you could feel the baby kick all the time now and it always made your heart burst with excitement.
Bradley, knowing how much you always went all out for his birthdays, had been concerned this past week, wanting you to rest instead of tiring yourself out on his account.
“Honey, I mean it,” he’d told you just the other day, his large hand splayed across your belly as the two of you sat together on the couch. “Don’t overdo it this year. We can just have a nice dinner, a little cake, and that’s all I need. You and the baby are the greatest gifts I could ever get. Nothing’s going to top that anyway,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose and then dropping a kiss on your stomach.
You knew he was right, but that hadn’t stopped you from spending all day at the grocery store yesterday, picking up all the ingredients you needed for Bradley’s birthday dinner and homemade cake, or from staying up all night last night to prepare and pack a special birthday lunch for him to take to work today.
“Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?” you’d asked him as the two of you were preparing for bed last night. “It’s your birthday!”
Bradley just laughed, wrapping his arms around your swollen middle and pulling you towards him, your back pressed firmly against his broad chest. “Honey, it’s not like it’s a federal holiday,” he grinned, peppering your cheek with kisses. “Can you imagine Cyclone’s face if I requested a day off just because it’s my birthday?”
“It should be a holiday,” you grumbled, erupting into a fit of giggles as Bradley began nibbling playfully on your neck, his mustache tickling your skin.
“It’s still going to be a perfect day, because I have a perfect wife I’m coming home to, and she’s carrying our perfect baby,” Bradley smiled, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your face towards his so that he could drop a proper kiss on your lips. “Not to mention the perfect birthday cake my perfect wife is baking me,” he teased, pecking the corner of your mouth.
Bradley loved your baking, and every year he liked to request a different flavored cake for his birthday—”They’re all so good, I can’t choose just one favorite!” he’d told you. This year, he’d opted for a chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting and a fudgy center. You’d made it once for a barbecue at Penny and Mav’s house and Bradley hadn’t been able to stop raving about it. You knew it was the number one thing he was most excited for this year.
“Mmm, really sucking up, aren’t we?” you teased, wiggling your hips against him with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I already have all the ingredients for your birthday cake.”
He groaned softly, kissing your collarbone as a sign of his appreciation. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Yes,” you smiled, snuggling up against him as the two of you fell asleep.
Now you were awake, your internal clock hardly ever allowing you to sleep in late these days. Turning your head on your pillow, you looked over at your husband, still fast asleep beside you—his alarm wasn’t set to go off for another forty-five minutes or so—and felt your heart flood with the warmth of an adoration that had only continued to grow since the moment you had first met him at The Hard Deck all those years ago.
His ruddy cheek was pressed against his pillow, his soft lips parted slightly as he breathed in and out, the soft whir of it a soothing sound. His dark hair, which had turned a shade of golden brown in the heat of the San Diego sun, was rumpled and messy and you had never felt more inclined to tangle your fingers in those tantalizing curls. With his eyes still firmly shut, his dark lashes were kissing the tops of his sunburned cheeks. You had to force back a laugh at the sight of his reddened skin. How many times had you scolded him for spraying sunscreen directly into his face like a madman? And yet, despite his best efforts, he somehow always managed to get burned to a crisp.
Still, he had never looked more handsome to you.
Rolling slowly onto your side, the added bulk of Baby B making you a bit more clumsy, you reached out and traced intricate patterns onto the bare skin of his back, shivering with pleasure at the feel of how warm his body was.
Letting out a soft and sleepy moan, Bradley slowly started to stir and you stilled your hand for a moment, your lips curving up into an affectionate smile. Admiring the way the morning light was cascading down his sunkissed skin, you couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing delicate kisses to the delicious freckles that were scattered across his shoulders, always made darker after hours spent shirtless in the sun.
At the feel of your warm lips brushing against his back, Bradley stirred further, his dark eyes cracking open as he let out another soft groan, one of pleasure this time.
“Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered against him, your lips continuing to trail kisses across his upper back as your fingers danced slowly down his side.
“Mmm, happy birthday to me,” Bradley grinned, his voice still raspy and hoarse from just waking up. The deep timbre of it sent shivers all the way down to your toes. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes blinking the last vestiges of sleep away. “What a way to start the day,” he chuckled.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you apologized, returning to your position on your back as your husband rose up on one elbow to gaze down at you, wrapping his other arm around your waist.
“No apologies necessary, honey,” he assured you, dipping his head low so that he could kiss you more thoroughly, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you knotted your fingers in his messy curls.
“You’ll have to get up and get ready for work soon,” you panted when he finally tore his lips away from yours and began sucking softly on your neck, his large, calloused hands slipping beneath the oversized T-shirt you’d worn to bed last night. You bit your lower lip in pleasure as you wrapped one leg around his, loving the way his body still found ways to meld to yours, even with your growing belly.
“Mmm, soon,” he murmured, nodding in agreement as he nipped gently at your collarbone. “But not yet,” he smirked, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.
Making love to your husband as the early morning light began breaking through the gossamer curtains of your bedroom window seemed like the perfect way to kick off his birthday celebration this year. Judging from the sated, blissful expression on his face as he collapsed on his back beside you, Bradey certainly thought so anyway.
“Damn, now I really am regretting not asking Cyclone for the day off,” Bradley laughed breathlessly, tugging you closer to his side and kissing you deeply.
“Told you so,” you smirked playfully, nudging his side as you kissed him in return. You sighed as you glanced over the alarm clock and saw that it was almost seven. “You should probably start getting in the shower. I’ll make you breakfast,” you told him, starting to rise up in bed.
“Uh-uh,” Bradley replied, shaking his head and stopping you in your tracks with an arm across your chest. “Forget breakfast. I’m not showering without you,” he grinned, climbing out of bed and scooping you up into his arms.
“But they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom.
“You’re the most important meal of the day,” he shot back with a mischievous wink, his face splitting into a huge grin.
You threw your head back laughing at that one, swatting at his chest with one hand. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you grinned.
“Did it work?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Only because it’s your birthday,” you giggled, leaning forward and kissing him sweetly.
After a shower that was certainly longer than Navy regulation, Bradley reluctantly got dressed while you hurried to the kitchen to make him some toast and a quick cup of coffee. Grabbing his lunch from the fridge, complete with the little handwritten note you’d tucked inside for him, you handed it all to him as he got ready to walk out the door.
“I love you so much,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of your head as he pulled you in for a kiss. “This is already an amazing birthday, honey,” he added with a wink.
“It’s just getting started,” you smiled, smoothing down the collar of his uniform and giving him one more quick kiss. “Have a great day at work.”
Bradley nodded, giving you one last squeeze before juggling all his things and heading towards the door. “I promise I’ll be home as quickly as I can.”
“We’ll be here,” you told him, grinning as you rested your hand on your belly and felt another strong kick.
“Don’t let Mommy work herself too hard, Baby B!” Bradley called with a laugh, and then he was gone.
“Listen, I promise I’m not going to overdo it, but we have to make the day special for Daddy,” you whispered conspiratorially, looking down at your growing bump. When you felt a little nudge in response, you grinned. “See? I knew you’d understand.”
Changing into a pair of stretchy yoga pants and one of Bradley’s old T-shirts, you set about pulling out all the birthday decorations you’d secretly ordered to decorate the apartment with. From balloons to streamers to confetti to a large “Happy Birthday, Bradley!” banner, within a couple hours, you’d managed to make your home look like an advertisement for Party City.
“Whew,” you breathed out, pulling your hair back from your now sweaty neck and tying it up into a quick ponytail. You were breathing harder than expected after hanging everything up, and a quick rest on the couch seemed like a good idea. “You’re kind of heavy, you know that?” you teased affectionately, poking at your belly. “Mama used to be able to do all of this without breaking a sweat, but now I feel like I just ran a marathon. But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide,” you laughed, massaging your stomach as you leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh.
You didn’t have much time to relax, however. If you wanted everything to be ready for when Bradley got home from work, you had to start working on dinner and his cake now.
“Alright, Baby B, back to work we go,” you murmured, lifting yourself up off the couch with a soft groan and rubbing your lower back as you waddled into the kitchen. After trying for so long to get pregnant, you could honestly say that you loved and appreciated every moment of your pregnancy thus far, but you’d also be lying if you said that it wasn’t taking a lot out of you physically, especially as you headed into the final stretch.
It was also becoming harder and harder to wrap your head around the fact that this would be the last birthday you and Bradley celebrated together, just the two of you. Come next year, you’d have an almost one-year-old, which was still too crazy to think about. It would be wonderful, but different, which was why you wanted to make today so particularly special.
Now that all the decorations were up, you turned your attention towards dinner. Considering your oven was only so big, you had to manage your time wisely to ensure that both dinner and Bradley’s birthday cake would be ready in time. But you’d timed it all down to the last minute, so you were confident everything would be fine.
Since you were making Bradley’s birthday dinner yourself this year, you’d decided on the chicken pot pie that he loved so much. His mom had made it for him all the time when he was growing up, and you’d spent a long time trying to perfect Carole’s recipe until you got it just right. The day Bradley’s face had lit up and he’d told you that it tasted just like his mom’s was still one of the proudest moments of your life. In addition to the pot pie, you were also preparing a fresh garden salad, creamy mashed potatoes, and cornbread.
As all that was finishing baking, you pulled out the ingredients for Bradley’s chocolate chip cake and began mixing them together until the batter was thick and tasted like heaven—you could never resist stealing a little lick. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you moved back and forth between checking on the food and preparing the cake pans until you felt a bit dizzy. Once everything was settled, you told yourself, you’d take a quick rest.
At the sound of your phone buzzing on the counter, you turned and smiled when you saw that Phoenix was texting you a ton of pictures.
Don’t worry, we’re taking care of your boy until he can get home!
Your smile widened as you swiped through photo after photo of the little party the Dagger Squad had thrown for Bradley. The rec room on base was decked out with balloons and a small sign that looked like it had been written in Bob’s firm hand. Bradley was sitting in front of a cake that had come from his favorite bakery, everyone else gathered around him for a big group shot. There were also individual pictures of him with Mav, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, Hangman, Hondo and some of the others. You even thought you spotted Cyclone in the back of one photo, a slice of cake in hand.
Amazing! Looks like you guys are having a great time! Thank you for organizing it!
Of course! He’s having a good day, but he can’t stop talking about getting home to you! You’re not overdoing it, are you?
Did Bradley tell you to ask me that?
Maybe. But the question still stands.
I’m fine. I’m going to take a break once dinner is ready and I get the cake started in the oven.
He’s lucky to have you! Talk to you soon!
A few minutes later, dinner was finished, the chicken pot pie and cornbread sitting on the counter to cool while you grabbed the pans full of cake batter and set them on your baking tray in the oven.
Rising up with a slight wince and a yawn, you held your back with one hand while cradling your belly with the other. “Okay, Baby B, time for a short nap while Daddy’s cake bakes,” you murmured, checking the oven one last time before making your way to the bedroom, where you promptly crawled under the covers and passed out.
You had thought for sure that you’d set a quick alarm on your phone before falling asleep, but evidently your exhausted brain had been playing tricks on you because you suddenly woke with a start when the smell of something burning hit your nostrils. Gasping, you shot up in bed and looked at the clock on your bedside table, horrified to see that you’d been asleep for over an hour.
“No, no, no,” you mumbled frantically, slipping out of bed as quickly as your cumbersome body would allow and hurrying to the kitchen, where the smell of burning grew worse, tendrils of smoke starting to drift out of the oven.
Clutching your face in your hands, you let out another gasp before shutting off the oven and hurrying to open all the windows in the apartment, terrified of setting off the smoke alarm. When you walked back into the kitchen, you opened the oven slowly, holding your breath as a ton of smoke was released into the room. As it cleared, you waved your hand back and forth in front of your face and were devastated to see the burnt remains of Bradley's birthday cake, crusted inside your baking pans, the top layer blackened from being left in the oven for more than double the amount of time it should have been.
“Oh, no,” you whimpered softly, feeling your eyes and throat burn with unshed tears as you grabbed a pair of oven mitts and reached for your ruined dessert, your heart plummeting inside your chest as you lifted it up for closer inspection. It was completely beyond salvaging.
You could fix this. There was still time. You could jump in the car, hurry to the store, pick up fresh ingredients, and—
The sound of the key turning in the lock made your heart sink even further as you stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, the remains of Bradley’s ruined birthday cake still in your hands.
“Honey, I’m home! I managed to get out a little early and—honey?!” You could hear the playful tone of Bradley’s voice quickly turn to panic as he clearly smelled the evidence of your disastrous mistake. A second later, he was running into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. “Honey!” he exclaimed again, rushing to your side and checking you over until he was satisfied you were unharmed. “What happened?”
Your chin wobbled miserably and you couldn’t even look him in the eye as you held out the cake pan you were still grasping onto tightly. “I burned your birthday cake,” you confessed, your voice quaking as you fought to get the words out.
Bradley’s eyes softened and he reached out to cup your cheek gently, brushing his thumb against your skin. “Oh, baby, it’s alright,” he assured you, carefully prying the singed pan out of your hands and setting it down in the sink.
“No, it isn’t!” you burst out, suddenly breaking down in tears, your entire body trembling as you were wracked with sobs. “You were so excited about that cake! And it’s your birthday! I ruined your birthday!” You buried your face in your hands as you cried and turned away from him, so disappointed in yourself for having made such a stupid mistake.
“Hey! No, you didn’t!” Bradley insisted instantly, immediately coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “You didn’t ruin anything, honey,” he cooed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rocking you gently in his embrace.
When you just continued to cry, shaking your head as if to refute his words, he reached for your shoulders and turned you slowly until you were facing him, though you still wouldn’t look at him. “Hey,” he said again, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting your face until you had no choice but to gaze into his eyes, so warm and compassionate as always. “You decorated this whole apartment for me,” he told you, indicating all the decorations you’d spent hours putting together. “You made me an amazing lunch and an incredible dinner from what I can tell,” he went on, pointing his chin in the direction of the counter where the chicken pot pie and cornbread were resting. “And are you forgetting this morning?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows in an attempt to make you laugh. “That alone made it my best birthday yet. How could you think that you ruined it?”
He was trying to make you feel better. Your sweet husband was always so quick to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down, even if it was over the silliest thing. But you still felt awful. He was so excited about his chocolate chip birthday cake. He’d been talking about it for days. Bradley never asked for anything on his birthday, but he had asked for that. And you’d completely ruined it.
“It was what you wanted,” you replied tearfully, your face crumbling as you began crying anew. “And today was supposed to be special!”
“It is special,” Bradley countered, attempting to thumb your tears away. But they were falling too fast at this point.
“No! It isn’t!” you cried, whirling away from him and hiding your face behind your hands once more.
Bradley sighed, watching you silently for a moment or two. As well as you knew him, and could read everything he did and said, he could do the same for you. And he knew the reason you were so upset wasn’t just about some cake getting burned.
Stepping closer to you, he rested his hands on your shoulders and waited until you lowered your hands slowly before murmuring gently, “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”
You let out a shaky breath and looked up at him with watery eyes, and you could practically hear his heart breaking as he gazed back at you.
“Oh, honey,” Bradley whispered, rubbing your back soothingly as he pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and settled you down in it before crouching in front of you, his big hands resting warmly on your thighs. “What is it?”
“It’s your last birthday with just the two of us,” you told him slowly, feeling a bit silly as you voiced your thoughts aloud. “I just—I wanted it to be special. Next year, things are going to be so different.” You instinctively moved your hand to your rounded belly.
“Baby,” Bradley breathed out, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs slowly. “You’re right, things are going to be different. But it’ll be a good kind of different,” he comforted you, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
You felt your face scrunch up as more tears started to fall. “I know,” you nodded, even as a few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and spilled onto your shirt. “God, I must sound so awful, like I don’t even want our baby around, after how long we spent—”
“I don’t think that at all,” he told you firmly, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence. “I think you’re exhausted, and that you’ve been pushing yourself way too hard, that’s what I think.”
“I’m just—I’m scared,” you confessed quietly, your voice almost like a whisper, like it was some kind of shameful secret. “I love our baby more than anything, and I’m so excited that we’re starting a family together, but now that we’re getting close, it just feels like everything’s changing so quickly and there’s nothing I can do to control it.”
Bradley chuckled softly, reaching up to cup your face as he looked directly into your eyes. “Honey, there’s nothing in this life we can control. I know you hate to hear that because you love to take care of everything and everyone, but it’s the truth. It’s something I’ve learned over and over and over again. No matter what we do, no matter how tightly we hold onto things, we can’t control anything. We just have to enjoy this life, moment by moment, for what it is and hold onto all the good bits. Our life is beautiful now, and it’s going to be even more beautiful whenever Baby B decides to make his or her grand entrance,” he grinned, tenderly running a hand over your belly. “I know it’s scary. Trust me, I’m scared, too. But we’re in this together. Always.”
Smiling through your tears, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against your husband’s, holding his precious face in your hands as if you were holding a priceless treasure. “How’d you get to be so smart, huh?” you asked softly, laughing as you pressed a light kiss to his lips.
Bradley smiled as well, resting his hands over yours. “Well, you know what they say. Another year older, another year wiser,” he teased.
Letting out a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your nose against his, trying to soak in how grateful you were for this particular moment in time and for the gift of your husband’s life, which was what today was really all about. “I still feel terrible about your birthday cake,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth turning down slightly as you glanced over at the oven. “I just meant to take a short nap, but I must have forgotten to set an alarm, and when I woke up, I could smell it burning.”
“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Bradley said seriously, stroking your cheek as if to ensure that you really were safe. “When I walked in and smelled that—well, you had me really scared there for a minute, honey.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling even worse that you’d worried him and then forced him to be the one to comfort you on his special day. “Your birthday is—”
“Honey, my birthday is just a day,” he told you, taking your hands in his and squeezing gently. “What makes it special is how loved you always make me feel. The decorations, the parties, the cake—they’re all amazing, sure, and I’m always so thankful for them, but they wouldn’t mean anything without all the love and the care you put into them. That’s what I love most about my birthday. Just getting to be with you. Everything else is icing on the cake.”
“Ugh, please, no cake references for a little while,” you murmured, your eyes glistening with tears at your husband’s words. Smiling, you leaned forward and kissed him, then laid your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw. You deserve to be celebrated every single day. I would be so lost in this life without you.”
“Ditto, honey,” Bradley grinned, rising slowly and lifting you up with him. He smoothed your hair back from your face and dropped a loving kiss on your forehead. “You’ve given me the greatest gift anyone could ever give, just by loving me and walking through this life with me. Not to mention making me a dad,” he said softly, his own eyes glistening as he cradled your swollen stomach with one hand. “I love you more than words could ever describe.”
Wrapping your arms around each other, you and Bradley stood holding one another in the middle of the kitchen, swaying back and forth, for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was only seconds. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. When you finally pulled back, Bradley smiled and kissed your tear-stained cheeks.
“Not to ruin this moment, but I think that chicken pot pie is starting to call my name,” he laughed, his stomach grumbling as if on cue.
Giggling, you nodded and stepped around him to grab the dinner you’d prepared. “Sit down and I’ll get it all ready,” you told him.
“Nope,” he shot back, stepping up beside you. “It’s my birthday, and I insist on serving you. You sit down and I’ll get everything ready.”
“But Bradley, I—”
“No arguing with the birthday boy,” he grinned, steering you towards the table.
Knowing it was no use arguing with him, stubborn man that he was, you just smiled and sat back as he laid out the chicken pot pie, salad, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. Thankfully, you’d already set the table earlier in the afternoon.
“Happy Birthday, my love,” you told him before the two of you dug into your meal.
“Thank you, baby. It’s been a great one,” he smiled.
You and Bradley enjoyed dinner, Bradley praising your cooking about a hundred times before the meal was through, and then hopped into the Bronco to make a quick trip to the grocery store, where you picked up some birthday cake flavored ice cream.
“This will have to do until I can make you that chocolate chip cake,” you told him ruefully, holding it up once the two of you got home.
“Sounds good to me,” Bradley replied, pulling two spoons out of the drawer with a wink.
Between the two of you, you ended up polishing off the container of ice cream before cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed. You had just finished stripping off your yoga pants and T-shirt when Bradley came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing a kiss to your neck.
“You know,” he whispered, his mustache scraping against your skin as his lips began descending down your neck and across your shoulder. “The ice cream was great and all, but I kind of had another dessert in mind for tonight.”
You smiled as your head fell back against his shoulder, your body already feeling like putty in his hands. “Oh, yeah? Not the chocolate chip cake, you mean?” you asked teasingly.
“Uh-uh,” he mumbled, catching your sensitive skin lightly between his teeth as he nibbled his way back up to your ear. “Something even sweeter.”
A laugh bubbled up in your chest as his hands began stroking your sides, and you turned your head to look up at him. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you smirked, echoing your words from that morning.
“Did it work?” he smirked in return, clearly catching on to what you were playing at.
“Only because it’s your birthday,” you beamed, giggling as he lifted you up into his arms and carefully laid you out on the bed.
Grinning mischievously, Bradley pulled his shirt over his head and climbed onto the bed a moment later, his arms on either side of you as he hovered over you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Best birthday ever.”
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster x reader#x reader#x female reader#rooster x wife!reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#miles teller#mr. & mrs. bradshaw
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