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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 days

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AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #not sure if it's needed for a dnd character death but just to be safe

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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Winter's King 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Ahhh! I almost own a house.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen struts down the hall, the white satin limning her figure. She is shameless as she passes soldiers but she needn’t worry for their judgments. You peek up at the few errant eyes that follow her, though many pass without even a glance in her direction. Servants course through the corridors, busy with preparations for the morrow’s departure.

You think of asking Queen Jazlene whether now is not the best time. If she should be more concerned with her venture north. Of all she’s acquired of the queen’s former possessions, there is not a fur among her chests. Nothing more than a trim of squirrel or rabbit along a collar. The summer kingdom does not warrant the need. And certainly, you think, the king must be equally busied by the pending journey.

As ever, your duty keeps you silent. You do not know better than a queen. You bide her whims, not your own. You follow the soft whisk of the robes hem and your mind wanders in your stead. You think of the dark gardens and the king’s words.

‘Should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.’ He must be eager to return home. You can’t help but harbour your own impatience. For all you’ve heard of the Hinterlands, you cannot picture them well. You want to see them yourself. It is the only time in your life you really ever longed to see something entirely unfamiliar.

The queen stops and the soldiers on either side of the door shift, alert at her approach. The do not look welcoming. You wring your hands behind your back. What can you do but let the queen proceed?

“Let me through,” she demands, “I must see the king.”

“Your highness,” the rusty-haired soldier drawls, “he is not receiving--”

“He is my husband,” she sneers, “I am the queen.” She points to herself, “I give you orders, sir. Not the reverse.”

The other man huffs and tilts his head to the other as if to say, ‘don’t bother’. The first soldier raises his elbow to hit the door beside him.

“Your highness, you have a visitor,” he calls through.

“A visitor?” Jazlene scoffs and steps forward, grabbing the handles of the doors to try to force her way through. “I am more--” She shakes the doors as they offer resistance from the other side. You can see clearly through the crack between them that they are latched within.

The metal grinds inside as the lock is slid out of place. The queen blusters through as a dark-haired man stands by the left door, watching behind her as she blows in like a storm. You pause in the doorway, uncertain if you should go further.

The king sits at the table of his receiving chamber, maps unfurled and kept unrolled by heavy ornaments. He has one arm on the chair and his other hand against the tabletop. He watches his wife with his golden eyes, his lips straight and unamused. The man who opened the door, watches with a crooked grin.

“Husband, I have come to see you. As we have much travel ahead, I figured it was the best time for us to--”

“The best time?” King Geralt ponders flatly, “we ready for the ride north. We must anticipate the remaining rebels and assuage lingering acrimony. We must also account for the snows that will meet us in the Hinterland. This campaign has kept me long and the winter will be there to greet us.”

“Let the servants trouble for it,” she insists.

The man by the door flutters his fingers at you, “in?” He mouths.

You blink, uncertain. You step inside hesitantly and step to the edge of the other door. He pushes the left one shut and turns to watch the interaction with glee.

“You should trouble for it,” the king reproaches, “you should act as queen and so you should think of your people.”

“Husband, do not presume to educate me. I have had tutors all my life. I understand these things. I was borne to be a lady, to mind a castle--”

“A castle not a realm,” he shakes his head, “this is no banquet.”

“Ugh,” she huffs, “what has gotten into you? Last night--”

“It is today,” he insists over her, “I am occupied.” He shifts his chair pointed and frames an area on the maps with his large hands. “Jaskier,” he calls, “come, we must determine our way through Hare’s Pass.”

“Your highness,” the man jaunts forward bouncily and as he nears the table, he pulls out a chair, “Queen Jazlene, please, have my seat.”

The king looks at his companion with a deathly glimmer. The lord in his cornflower jacket is unbothered by the distaste aimed in his direction. He smirks back defiantly.

“Thank you, sir,” Jazlene simpers and sits with her back straight and her chest pushed out, “I think I’ve forgotten which one you are.”

“Lord Jaskier,” he intones, “I held the capital while the king claimed his beautiful wife.”

She giggles and runs her hand along the front of her robe, “oh, how valiant, sir.”

“Jaskier,” the king growls again, “put your mind back to the road--”

“We have it figured, your highness,” the lord rebuffs, “surely you should enjoy this time you have in one place with your wife.” Jaskier takes another stool and sits at the table, “I should very much like to know this summer queen better. You secret her away--”

The king sighs. His fingers tap in irritation on the table. He sits back and throws his hand up.

“I see you are no help, as usual,” the king snips.

“And you are tedious,” the lord smirks again. “My queen,” the man sits forward, his attention on Jazlene, “I traveled the summer lands once before. You see, I fancy myself a musician and as a young boy, I would play for the courts. I never ventured to Debray but I was at Harlowe. It is closeby.”

“I know Harlowe,” Jazlene brightens, forgetting her mission for talk of herself. “Yes, I went there often for their harvest fairs. Were you there when Lord Edmund was still alive?”

“Ah, yes, I believe he wasn’t there long after I left for the next county,” Jaskier artfully feeds her self-importance.

“He was a good man. Of the few my father respected,” she mourns with her hand to her chest. She shakes her head and pauses with a sullen sigh, “maid,” she snaps her head up, “bring wine for us.”

“No wine,” King Geralt counters swiftly.

“We have a guest, husband, surely we should entertain him according to etiquette. In these summer lands, we offer sustenance to our guests,” she argues.

“Bring warm milk then. You needn’t be glazed over with wine on the morrow--”

“I am the queen and I am grown, I will have wine,” Jazlene waves her hand at you tersely, “maid!”

The king glances at you. You stand in indecision. You can defy neither but in that moment, you must choose one or the other. His golden eyes drift over to the queen and back to you.

“Go, fetch wine,” he relents.

You bow your head and spin to set off on the task. Your thankful to escape the tension that floods the room. You can sense that the queen’s intrusion is unwelcome and yet that lord ignores the king’s mood. Almost as if he means to agitate him.

You weave through the disarray of the corridors down to the kitchen. Barrels of pickled foods and crates of dried goods are stacked, waiting to be loaded onto carts for the distance ahead. The king must still think of feeding his army, and now, a royal retinue.

You claim a bottle of wine amid the hectic furor and some goblets. You’re out of breath as you return to the upper floors and slow yourself to regain composure as you approach the king’s chamber. You’re let within without obstruction. Just the maid.

You cross to the table and set the goblets upright, then the heavy bottle. Jazlene ahems and taps the brim impatient before you can uncork the bottle. The neck moves away from your reach as Lord Jaskier snatches it instead. He opens it easily and pours the queen a cup as the king leans heavily on an elbow. As you glance over, you meet his golden eyes and quickly shy away. You see he is not happy. You thought by Jazlene’s measure, thing’s might have been improving.

You take your place by the wall. The king sighs. He does that a lot, as if he means to say something but will not. Lord Jaskier slides a goblet towards him.

“Drink and let loose, your highness, you can’t be surly upon the road,” Jaskier chides.

The king does not move. He glares at his company then looks at the ceiling. Queen Jazlene slurps loudly.

“How charming you are, my lord, a wonder his highness likes you so much,” she chirps.

“A surprise to me as well but I think my loyalty more tolerable than my other traits. Yet, you’ve yet to the king bellowing the most bawdy ballad. He is particular lively after a battle,” Jaskier winks at his liege tauntingly and receives nothing in return. “Mm, how about a game? The king is fond of those. How about it, then?”

The lord lifts his cup and holds it before his lips, watching the king in his cantankerous glower. Another sigh as he sits forwards and tilts a hand indifferently.

“If it keeps you from chattering,” the king mutters as he clears the heavy ornaments and rolls the map up. He focuses on that as Jaskier pulls a pouch free of his belt.

“This is one he taught me. The old king before him was fond of it too. The mind’s of rulers, hm?” Jaskier explains as he loosens the tie of the bag and pours out similar pieces to the ones in Geralt’s purse. “Have you played it?”

Jazlene keeps her hand on her cup. The king continues to clear the table, pushing aside the cup meant for him as he shifts the bottle off another map. He stands and gathers the rolled parchment. He approaches you.

“Bring these to my bedchamber,” he bids under his breath.

As you take them, your sleeves brush his and his fingers drag along the fabric of your dress. He stares down at you, his breath fuming like a hearth. You hug the maps and he backs away, returning to the table. You take your order and find your way through the east door into his bed chamber.

You set down the maps on the chest near the foot of the grand bed. His sword leans against the frame, tall in its sheath. You stop to admire the thick handle and its well-hewn grooves. It must be heavy.

You tear your admiration from the weapon and return to the receiving chamber. Jaskier reviews the rules as Geralt rolls his fingers against the armrest, bored by the explanation. You resume your vigil and stare at the wall.

Pieces are dolled out, dice are counted, and the round begins. The king is let to have the first turn. He plays the same as he did against you. It must be some strategy. The queen is prompted to have her go but she is silent. She hums and stares down at the table. Jaskier whispers behind his hand, drawing your gaze.

“Let her play her own turn,” the king insists, “isn’t any fun playing against two of you.”

“Your highness, I was only doing my duty as a royal advisor,” Jaskier returns playfully. “By all means, my beautiful queen, I am certain you are as a clever as you are elegant.”

Jazlene preens in the praise. She drinks some more wine then rolls a dice, seemingly without thought. Several of her pieces are plucked up by both king and lord. She pouts.

“Wait, what happened?” She mopes.

“Rules,” Geralt grumbles. “Jaskier, go on then, take my bronze.”

“I know your tricks,” the lord replies, “I will not fall for it. I’ll have your silver.”

Jaskier rolls the diamond dice and groans. The king takes his silver instead.

“You’ve switched out the dice, certainly,” Jaskier accuses.

“You whine about chance,” the king rebukes and rolls, taking even more silver from his advisor. “And again.”

He gestures to Jazlene and her brow ripples. You can see she doesn’t understand. She will want to use the square dice then, she might have the iron back that she lost. She uses the slightly rounded die instead. Jaskier is already counting her gold.

“I don’t understand,” she crosses her arms, “this game makes no sense.”

“It is your first attempt,” Jaskier assures her, “you will get better.”

“It’s boring,” she sits back and drinks more wine.

Jaskier has a swig of his own as he rolls. He claims his silver back from the king and some from Jazlene. She shakes her head and waves you over with her hand. You can see her goblet is empty as you near. You lift the bottle to pour as the king has his turn. He loses a few iron but doesn’t seem to mind.

The queen’s turn comes and you linger, examining her pieces. Your lips move slightly. Square, square, square. Your eyes flit up and find the king’s watching you. Oh no.

“Wine, maid,” Jaskier clunks down his cup with a hollow noise.

You move around Jazlene’s chair as she snarls under her breath. She rolls the triangle die. Her gold is all gone. She slaps her hands down and you rescind the bottle before you can pour as Jaskier’s cup wobbles. He laughs at the queen’s dismay and she sweeps away her pieces and dice before she can lose.

“It isn’t fair! I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand, ask. Do not be impetulant,” King Geralt reprimands. “You make a mess like a child.”

“Do not speak to me as one,” she spits back. “I am not!”

“Your behaviour would suggest otherwise,” the king says.

“Now, now, perhaps it would be fairer with a forth, eh? Trios always do prove imbalanced,” Jaskier intones.

As you go to pour the wine, you are suddenly pulled off your feet. You land in his lap and nearly drop the bottle. You hug it close as you notice the king lurch, sitting straight, only to stop himself on the edge of his chair.

“Eh, do not handle the maid as such,” he demands. “She serves the queen.”

“She may join us, yes? The queen could have an ally. We will play as pairs.”

“Let the maid go,” the king grits.

“Oh, do settle,” Jaskier unhooks his arm from around you. You stand and let your nerves settle, steadying your hands to pour the wine. “You are no fun, your highness.”

Jazlene giggles, “oh he certainly is not. So dour,” she sounds like Lady Rezlyn in that moment. Often the duchess would throw barbs at her husband shamelessly. “Even his games are dull.”

“You needn’t play,” King Geralt shoves his chair back and stands, “it was not my suggestion.”

“She is right. You are much too serious,” Jaskier remarks.

You leave the wine and back away. The air is thick. You feel as if you should go but cannot without dismissal. The king roils hotly as he exhales loudly.

“Far too serious,” Jazlene trills, “he hasn’t time for any sort of fun, has he? He must attend his kingly duties and yet, he neglects his husbandly ones.”

The king lets out a growl. He sneers at his wife as Jaskier’s laughter subsides. The lord looks alarmed as he peeks between the royal couples.

“Mm, suppose it is time I see to my own luggage,” he rises.

“No, stay, drink your wine,” King Geralt insists brusquely, “you and the queen can have mine,” he grips the goblet by the brim and shoves it towards Jazlene as the contents slosh. “You will find me attending my dour kingly duties, should you think to recall your own.”

The king spins and stalks off, hands in fists, and bulls through the doors. They slam behind him and make you jump. You blink at the wood as your heart pounds. For as much as the queen wants her marriage to improve, she is hardly helping herself.

“Ah,” Jaskier sits with a tut, “he can be a touch sensitive, can’t he?”

Jazlene laughs, though you hear the nervous rattle in it, “can’t he?”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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brabblesblog · 1 day

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 13: …because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The special day arrives.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

Ban stared at the gowns laid before her. There were three, in contrast to Astarion’s four suits. He’d hired several painters to sketch out portraits, some in the days before the event and some on the day itself. Today.

The maid braiding her hair tugged at a strand a little too tightly, but she barely noticed. On the opposite end of the room, Gale entered.

”Ah. Ban.” He nodded. “Just picking up the suits.” He reached for them, hanging from a coatstand near the doorway, but had to pause to shove away the silver-curl-topped head that threatened to poke through the door. “No peeking, Astarion! Don’t make me put up wards!”

Ban stifled a laugh as she heard a low growl, a chuckle, and then the sound of steps stalking away.

”He’s impatient,” Gale grinned, finally gathering all four ensembles in his arms. “But you already knew that.”

”You’d think he wouldn’t be, considering we’ve seen each other in these outfits before.” She remembered posing for portraits, having to hold poses stiffly - not a new occurrence, but they’d worn these outfits for them. It had felt… odd, seeing herself in wedding finery, white silks and embroidered fabrics. She was more comfortable with wearing more extravagant clothing now, but some of these outfits were well beyond what she was accustomed to. She’d imagined marrying someone, of course, but she’d figured it would be one of her father’s arranged events - a son of some fellow merchant or someone of import. Never had she considered it would be someone she’d actually love.

Not until the nautiloid, she supposed. She brought the old fantasy to mind.

Astarion in a crisp white suit, the color matching his hair. He’d smile at her, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle. The sun would shine on both of them somehow, but the tadpole would be gone - how this would be possible, she’d never thought to consider. He’d beam, his fangs making an appearance as she approached, and he’d offer her his hand, which she would take. She would be the happiest woman in Faerûn.

Another tug on her hair, and Ban sighed, opening her eyes. Their wedding would be at sunset, which meant a whole day of not seeing each other. The last time they hadn’t been glued to each other’s side was - she brushed the thought away.

Irrelevant. It will never happen again.

She instead allowed her eyes to gaze into the mirror, watching herself. She was still in her silken robe, a rich royal purple, but her eyes were locked onto her own. Still black, miraculously. Still her. She absently opened her mouth, a finger pulling her lip up to see her fangs for the first time. They weren’t anything impressive, and she sighed, letting go of her lip.

The maid doing her braids looked at her in the mirror. “You are still lovely, madam. Even if you are…” she trailed off.

Ban chuckled nervously. “I never was. But thank you.”

“That most certainly isn’t what our lord thinks,” the maid said amusedly. She resumed her work and left Ban to ponder her words.

Gale walked in to find Astarion preening in front of a mirror, styling his hair. He wordlessly hung the suits one by one. The to-be-groom seemed perfectly level, fingers carefully raking through and arranging the silver curls into their usual perfectly-coiffed style, but Gale could see the slight tremor in his hand.

“How is she doing?” His eyes remained fixed on his reflection, his voice calm with only the faintest tremble. “I need to remind her to clasp the back of her cape properly, else the whole thing hangs off-center. There are six buttons she has to do; three on each side. One of them is rather tricky - the holes are hidden in-”

“She is perfectly fine. Her maids will attend to her clothes. There’s no need to be concerned about a malfunction.” Gale waved him off dismissively, and Astarion sighed.

“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?”

Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.”

“Be a dear and don’t lose them.”

Gale noted the irritability, but the nervousness behind Astarion’s tone was obvious. “I’ll try not to. If I do misplace them, however, don’t drink me dry, please?”

At Astarion’s irritated huff, Gale laughed and left him with a final quip of, “Don’t fiddle with your hair too much, Astarion, she may change her mind if she sees you with frizz. Positively hideous.”

They were both laughing as Gale exited, closing the door behind him.

They met in the gardens.

She walked down the small steps to see a figure in white, hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his cuffs, huffing as he struggled to fit the buttons into the holes.

He was turned away from her, and did not notice her approach.

“Astarion?”

Her voice startled him, and he turned to face her. He swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

”Ban. Do you mind-” He held his sleeve up.

She approached him, taking his hand carefully and began to fit the buttons through. As she did she eyed him, meeting his gaze. He offered her a quick smile.

”Thank you.” He drew her close, hands settling around her waist to tug her to him. “I missed you.”

”It’s been…” she frowned, “less than eight hours since we last saw one another.”

”Doesn’t mean I can’t pine for my wife, does it?” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled, a long, drawn-out release of air that told her all she needed to know. “Even a minute of your absence is excruciating.”

She placed her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “You weren’t missing me. You’re nervous.” He raised his head, eyes narrowed. “Which is perfectly fine,” Ban added quickly before he could get a word in edgewise.

His brows smoothed out and he acknowledged her words with a stiff nod. “That does not mean both could not be true.”

”I guess you’re right.” She gently placed a hand on his cheek, watching the tension melt from his features as he leaned into the touch. “Any second thoughts? You still have time to say no, you know.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed, eyebrows knitting back together. “I disappear for a few hours, and you fill your head with the silliest of notions. Which of us can’t manage mere hours without the other, hm?”

”It was a joke.” She pecked his cheek.

His shoulders sagged and his features softened. “I am aware. It’s simply… difficult, comprehending being…” he threw both hands up, gesturing at them and the garden around them, “here. I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking of having a future at all - let alone this one.”

“Even during our adventuring days?”

Astarion pursed his lips, pensive. “At the start I assumed we would all part ways, or die.”

“Astarion,” Ban frowned, “we were seeing each other!”

“And I thought I was using you,” he answered without hesitating. “Later on there was the threat of Cazador and the Absolute, not to mention the rite itself. I did not have room to consider what life would be past those events.” He frowned and his eyes flicked away. “We’re both painfully aware of what happened after that, of course.”

“My love,” she murmured, the sobriquet slipping from her lips; she realized she never really used them, almost never outside sex. His eyes met hers, widening in surprise and then joy, and quietly chastised herself for not using them more. “I know. We both know. We’re also past that.”

He exhaled. “I am aware.” She could tell he was still tense, whether it be because of the mention of those six months, or the wedding itself. She placed a hand over his breast, felt the hammering there, and sighed.

Leaning forward, and on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Look at me?”

He did so, a chagrined smile on his face. He dipped his head. “Just… nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s just a ceremony, a soiree, like any other, and that’s all it is. Paperwork. It doesn’t have to matter if you don’t want it to. If that helps calm your nerves.”

Astarion scanned her face, then shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know this isn’t mere theatrics to me. I refuse to belittle it that way.” He took a small, aborted breath. “So little of my life has meant anything. Let this mean something, Ban. Let me be nervous and excited. Let me feel this, because it means everything to me.”

His mind touched hers, disparate thoughts flitting through. Redemption, finally. Joy, that he had been chosen by her, wanted by her. Worthy to be the one waiting as she walked down the aisle. Worthy of being the man she’d bind herself to. Enough.

She smiled, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Of course it means something, and of course I want you to feel it as I do. I merely meant, well. If that sort of thinking would help ease your nerves, then it might be useful.” He leaned into her touch, eyes shuttering as his shoulders finally lowered. She drew in close, pressing their foreheads together; she on tiptoes and him bending down to accommodate her.

He exhaled, the warm air rushing over her face. She saw his lips part and kept her peace, waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” he finally mouthed, eyes still firmly shut. The hammering beneath her palm quieted some, and she pressed her lips to his.

There were flowers everywhere. Roses of every shade adorned each side of the aisle. The archway that they would stand under was just as she’d envisioned. She had known how it would look, had arranged everything with the florists, but seeing it all in its full glory as she peeked through a window sent a thrill down her spine.

Everyone she knew and loved was there, mingling as they prepared to take their seats - everyone save one. He was sequestered away, just as she was, in preparation for the ceremony. She caught a quick glimpse of Karlach fidgeting with her dress and Halsin looking uncomfortable in an old suit.

There was a knock at the door. She called out to an invitation to come in and it opened, revealing Wyll.

“The blushing bride.” He held out his arms and Ban stood for a tight hug.

As Wyll pulled away she looked out at the crowd, watching as they began to take their seats. “Who knew, hm?”

He stood beside her, crossing his arms. “Who knew, indeed.” He caught her gaze and offered a smile. “Shadowheart filled us in on everything that happened. A lot passes you by when you’re stuck in Avernus.”

“I don’t doubt that. Have you talked to Astarion?”

“A little, this morning.” Wyll ran a hand over a horn. “He seemed glad that I approached him, but his mind was elsewhere. I don’t blame him.”

“He’s happy you’re all here,” Ban offered. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d get to see you two again after the reunion.”

“In much happier circumstances, too,” he nodded. “We’re glad to be here. Perhaps the next wedding will be ours.”

Ban blinked twice. “Does Karlach know?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be anytime soon, but closer than she and everyone else thinks. I figure with our lives being so full of danger, she might want some time to settle after we’ve fixed her heart.”

“Well, if you need anything,” she said, clapping his shoulder, “you can always ask me. Or Astarion, for that matter.”

Wyll offered her another shy smile. “I’ll go ahead. Tell everyone to prepare. Shadowheart will come for you when it’s time.”

She nodded and Wyll left, leaving her to her thoughts. Not that there were any other than the present, the seconds seeming to tick by extremely slowly. Her mind wandered aimlessly, refusing to focus on any one thing for very long in an attempt to avoid thinking of how nervous she was starting to feel.

Ban had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like mere seconds later when a bouquet was pressed onto her hands. Numerous people were suddenly checking her hair and makeup one last time and smoothing her dress into place. She took a nervous breath, keeping her eyes fixed upwards as she felt tears begin to pool. Crying would ruin the kohl.

“Take a deep breath.” Shadowheart’s hand on Ban’s shoulder startled her and she jerked, head snapping around to lock eyes with her friend.

“Is… Is it time?” Ban shuffled nervously, making sure to not step on the train of her gown.

“He’s waiting for you.” Shadowheart gathered most of the train, and they made their way out of the room. As they approached the main garden Ban swallowed; she could hear the music increasing in volume with every step.

She stopped in her tracks, Shadowheart almost tripping over the dress behind her. “I-” Ban turned to face her.

“This is it,” she choked out; tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to not let them fall. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It was a trite ceremony, and they were already eternally bound. She could think about the significance of it all later, when there were less eyes on her.

But she remembered his words, remembered him asking her to let it matter. She wanted to touch his mind, but they had agreed not to.

No cheating, he’d told her, after they’d had their final pre-wedding kiss earlier today. I want to feel it the way it was meant to be felt.

She’d understood what he meant. To experience it as if they were not vampires with a mental bond. As if they were just them.

Shadowheart approached her, carefully dabbing her tears away before they could spill. “We’ve faced worse, and you did it all fearlessly. You can do this.”

Ban nodded. “I know. I just…”

Feel it. She took one deep breath.

Shadowheart squeezed her hand one last time. “Walk as soon as your music starts.” She went ahead, taking her place next to Gale to walk down the aisle with him.

She stood there for a painful few minutes, hidden from view by a hedge. The music started, the song she’d picked for herself. Steeling her nerves, Ban took one last breath and walked to the aisle.

The setting sun hit her eyes first, blinding her for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw the same roses, the same aisles, the same ivy-wrapped archway, but the seats were now full of people watching her. The music wasn’t quiet at all, but it was completely drowned out by her racing heart.

Her eyes locked onto that familiar glint of silver, the crimson of his eyes burning into her even from this distance. He had his hands clasped together, his face carefully neutral, shifting into an uncertain, boyish smile as their eyes met. Time froze. Nothing else mattered. Not Ulder standing by Astarion, not Gale holding the ring box in his hands. Not the music, nor the artists quickly sketching off to the side. Not the scent of roses or the blazing sunset. Not one other thing existed. Just him.

She took a step onto the red carpet. Then another. She could feel the slight drag of the train of her dress, requiring slightly more effort to place one foot in front of the other. She could feel the bite of the heeled shoes, a little tight, on her feet, and the subtle change in her posture to accommodate walking with an elevated heel. The feel of the satin ribbon holding the bouquet together contrasted with the rougher stems of the flowers it bound. The gown’s fabric slid against her body, shifting with every move.

Her mind registered all this, part of her begging to dwell on these trivial sensations, to hide behind her walls again.

We don’t cry. Not in public. Not like this. Not where everyone can see.

Her father’s words. Not hers.

Instead, she allowed herself to feel.

Every step brought her closer to the archway - to him. His smile was slightly wider now, but his eyes were wide and misty. She remembered everything - nights under the shelter of their tent, cuddled by the campfire, the soft press of his lips against her temple. Strong, slender fingers grasping her wrist, tugging her away from whatever trap she had missed in her rush. Those same capable hands undoing the straps of her breastplate, a small huff of annoyance as the armor snagged on her underclothes, tearing them, knowing those same hands would repair them later that same night. The scent of bergamot and rosemary, clinging to her clothes as they parted for the day, something she’d imagined she could still smell even under her armor. The sound of his voice, always the first one she sought out; his thoughts, his quips, even the playful little insults he’d throw her way.

Then more recently, their hands clasped in meetings, sly glances and hidden smirks as they mentally discussed the people they were making deals with. The press of his lithe body against hers as they twirled around the dance floor, leading her effortlessly. The heated kisses, his lips trailing a fiery path from her lips to her breasts, his hands tangled in hers. Breathless moans, whispered promises of eternal love - no longer only promises, but truth. Seeing his face every dawn, reaching across the bed and always finding him there, every time without fail, whether he was watching her or reading a book or sipping tea-

Astarion gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she smiled in return. The tears finally fell, wet as they traced a path down her cheeks, but she was beyond caring. She took a few more steps, bringing her closer to him - to her fate, to everything that had ever mattered and the only thing that ever truly would.

Hers. Hard-fought and almost lost, but hers now, for however long their immortal lives lasted - forever, she vowed, and even beyond.

She stopped. Faced him. He swallowed, his smile fading as he took a step towards her, his hand held out for hers. It was a gesture they’d made countless times, in countless ways - helping each other up in combat, in camp, at breakfasts and dinners and meetings and parties - but this felt like the first time. She placed her hand on his, feeling the skin under hers, smooth and trembling, but still the same. Always.

They stood side by side as Ulder recited the rites. None of it was anything she’d remember, she thought. Her eyes were on him, from the perfectly coiffed hair to the slightly-trembling hands clasped behind his back, to the embroidery on his shoes. She reached out, and to her relief he noticed and responded in kind, even though his eyes never left Ulder. His index finger touched her first, gently tracing the back of her hand. His lips curled at the corner, his eyes crinkling even as his gaze remained ahead. Ban slipped her hand into his and felt him squeeze.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunín, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

For the first time since the ceremony began his eyes moved over her. They were large, wet, and painfully beautiful. He shot her a grin before turning back to Ulder. “I do.” The hand holding hers was cold, and she fought back the urge to reach over and rub warmth back into it.

The same question was leveled at her. She met Ulder’s gaze while he spoke, but made sure her eyes were locked on Astarion’s as she uttered her response. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly at her words, eyes flicking downwards for the briefest of seconds, then settling back on her face.

Then Gale approached, the rings kept in a small, ornate box. He opened the lid, offering it up to Astarion, who nimbly took her ring in his hands. He playfully bounced the ring on his knuckle, to the crowd’s delight, then looked at her.

“I am not prone to… long speeches, or poetry, for that matter,” Astarion began, the ring passing between his thumb and index finger as he fidgeted with it. “Nor am I the kind of person who usually appreciates public declarations of love. However, with you I could enjoy anything, and that includes this.”

His hand drifted down, patting his hip anxiously. “You probably weren’t the best leader, likely not even the best companion - I’d wager Wyll wins out over everyone in that regard.”

Ulder laughed; Ban glanced over at Wyll, who gave her a small wink. Astarion continued. “Back then… you tended to make frankly foolhardy decisions - thought with your blade rather than your brain… except when it came to me. With me…” he paused, thinking, “you seemed to think with your heart. Yet another foolish thing to be doing at such a time, darling, but I very much appreciated it.”

“I cared little for you at the start. In truth I didn’t know how to care for anyone, and certainly didn’t think anyone could care for me… despite my dashing good looks.” He huffed out a high-pitched laugh, one she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. He grew somber then, and continued. “But I quickly grew to love you. I grew to treasure every single moment we spent together, from camping out in the wilderness to the most mundane arguments about which vase would match the drapes. We’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of tribulations in our time together, but look at us.” He gestured at her and then himself. “We held on to one another, through every challenge. We have worked so hard to be the people we are today. To seize this happiness for ourselves and for one another.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the curls as his fingers carded through them. “And while there’s little doubt we’ll run into more trouble, because of course,” he rolled his eyes. “I do so knowing that you will be with me for all of it. Knowing that my every sunrise and sunset will be spent with you. Knowing that…” his breath caught, and Ban squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “that after two centuries… I am finally enough, the way that I am. Perhaps quite a bit more than enough at times, darling,” he chuckled.

Astarion straightened up. “But now that I am enough… I stand here today and I vow to love you forever. For the rest of time, even when the sun burns out and we give ourselves to the night. When we face whatever lies beyond - I vow to love you then too.”

His hand took hers, slipping the ring onto her finger. It did not meet much resistance, the cold metal settling in place easily. They both looked down at it, at how it seemed to belong there, as if it had always been there but just out of sight.

Gale’s movement brought her back to the moment. The box was held out to her, and she took Astarion’s ring. It was larger than hers, heavier, with a slightly thicker band, and with engraving identical to hers. She looked at him and saw the same hunger in his eyes as the day she’d asked him to marry her, that ravenous need clear in the set of his features.

“I wasn’t… born for this. Not for any of it. My life was supposed to be one of quiet subservience, to be what I was raised to be. I left that behind, and then I thought my life would be one of unassuming simplicity. Not… not these gardens. Not this palace, or the journey we all had. Not immortality. Not you.” She bit her lip, a fang catching on it. “I think we were both done a great favor the day the nautiloid took us. It brought me to you, and you to me.”

“The way fate works is something I don’t pretend to comprehend. I don’t think any god looked kindly on us before that day,” she snuck a glance at Withers, who merely nodded, “but neither do I think it was mere chance. We were… meant to be here. Meant to meet, meant to go through everything we did and everything else we will encounter. Each meant for the other,” she added, watching his lips curl as he acknowledged her words.

“You waited far too long for me, while I did not have to wait long at all. There’s no compensation that can make up for all that,” and she shook her head as he opened his mouth, “but I hope that I can at least begin to… I don’t know, ease it.”

She looked down at the ring in her hand. It felt easier to say the words then, without meeting his gaze. “There are not enough words to express the depth of my love for you, and I fear there never will be. I have never been good at baring my heart, but if there was ever a moment to do so anyway it would be this one. I could say I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life, and it would be true, but somehow it fails to express the sheer magnitude of my feelings for you.” She dared glance up to Astarion and was rewarded by an encouraging nod. “I vow from this day on to love you, to cherish you, and to see you. Even when it gets hard, even when it takes work to do so. I promise to do better, as you have done. I shall be your rock, your support, your comfort whenever you need me. Until the sun burns out, and through whatever lies beyond, I am yours. For as long as we exist, I vow to be your home, as you are mine.” She finally met his gaze and thanked herself for not fully looking up sooner. He looked so beautiful.

Astarion held his hand up, his fingers quivering visibly. He was smiling, but it was a bit frozen, almost forced in his anxious excitement. His eyes were too bright and wet, and she realized the trembling wasn’t just his hand but his whole body. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hide him away from everyone else, to keep him in the shelter of her embrace until his nervousness abated.

She slid the ring onto his finger.

Astarion cleared his throat. “Wrong finger,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She stammered out a quick sorry, moving the ring from his middle to his ring finger.

The moment the ring slid home, Ulder spoke up. “It is with great honor that I pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Ancunín, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Instantly, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. He pressed their bodies together, and slipped his hands down, linking them under her ass. He gripped her tightly, lifting her up. She wound her hands around his neck, the silken fabric of his collar pleasant against her skin.

His mouth slotted against hers, his plush lips pressing against her own. Leaning into the kiss, she heard him groan softly as his tongue lapped at her lips, seeking entrance. She opened for him and the approving hum that answered her sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of his teeth catching her lower lip, dragging over it as he pulled gently, elicited a quiet moan from her. The sound of whistling from somewhere in the crowd broke through to her and she finally pulled away, embarrassed. He set her down but didn’t let go of her.

Astarion simpered for the crowd, but his eyes were still damp and round. He offered her his arm and she gratefully accepted, leaning against him as they walked back down the aisle, finally husband and wife.

Astarion sauntered over to where Ban stood in front of the enchanted mirror, fighting with the clasps of her capelet, approaching from behind. “Does my wife need aid?” His hands ran over her shoulders to the clasps.

“Probably,” she huffed. “I had so much trouble having them put on. No one really knows how to do it, other than you.”

They were working on their first outfit change of the day, and she knew there would be more. Astarion had insisted on doing so for some variety in the portraits that would be painted today, but Ban also thought it a good idea to convey a sense of decadence and power. She was beginning to regret the pragmatism in that decision, now that she had to deal with the reality of multiple complex and tedious dress changes in a single evening.

He hummed in response, fingers slipping under the ornamentation to undo the buttons. “At the very least they managed to put it on straight. I was worried.”

“Gale did say as much.”

They both watched their reflections as he easily unbuttoned one side, then did the other, allowing the cape to fall to the floor between them. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Do you require more assistance, my love?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Shivering, she turned. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m surprised you’re offering. The day isn’t quite over yet, Astarion.”

“Is it not? We’re wedded,” he held up his left hand, ring glinting in the candlelight, “and we have more than two hours before the reception starts. I presume we could steal a few minutes.” He closed in, crowding her, foreheads almost touching. “It wouldn’t take long, surely.”

Ban shook her head, reaching back to begin untying the laces of her dress. “We have portraits to pose for. We don’t have time.” She would have loved to; a month apart ensured her resistance was thin, but in that moment her thoughts were with the wedding arrangements. “As much as I want to-”

The words died in her throat as he moaned in her ear, rolling his hips against her thigh. “Certainly it should be up to me when our game ends, don’t you agree, darling? Ten minutes,” he whispered, “is all I would need.”

“Astarion-”

“Please.”

That word and the needy, aggressive tone in his voice undid the last threads of her restraint. She growled, taking a step back to remove the rest of her outfit. His eyes tracked her every move as she stripped the gown off, shimmying out of it gracelessly, shoving it down to her legs and stepping out of it.

“On that table,” Astarion pointed, and she backed up to sit on its edge. He prowled towards her, eyes dark and very much hungry, still fully clothed. His hands parted her legs roughly as he knelt. Their eyes met and she swallowed.

“Ten minutes, Astarion,” she warned weakly.

A dark bark of amusement answered her. “Trust me. I require less than that.”

His hand made its way up her thigh, fingers dancing playfully. He kissed her knee, eyes still locked onto hers. The other hand wrapped around the back of her knee, fixing that leg in place.

“Be a good girl,” he purred, “and be quiet. We don’t want anyone,” he traced her folds through her underwear, then flicked her clit through the fabric, “hearing us, do we?”

“Or walking in.” She took a quick, cursory look. She was pretty sure the door had been locked so they could change; the likelihood of anyone walking in was low.

He sank his teeth into the meat of her thigh, lapping lazily at the blood that formed, then smirked. His thumb ran circles around her clit, no doubt feeling the wetness beginning to soak through the cloth. “That too.”

Her eyes were glued to him as he began kissing his way up her thigh, fangs scraping her skin. He mouthed at her core, the thin cloth leaving too little and yet too much in between his tongue and her. He drew back a hand to undo the buttons of his suit, but his mouth never left her.

She rolled her hips, an insistent, pleading gesture, one hand wrapping around the side of the table as she bit on the other to stifle a moan. He hooked a finger in her underwear, tugging the fabric aside to bare her glistening folds. Red eyes flicked to her face, and he looked ravenous. “I wager you now agree with my assessment?”

“Probably less than ten minutes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Just please. Lick me.”

He nodded, his face perfectly neutral, as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I knew you’d come around.” Keeping his eyes on her, he licked her, his tongue laid flat, from her entrance all the way up, making sure to give her a firm flick where she needed it most.

Ban groaned, spreading her legs further, needing more. Astarion obliged, slipping two fingers into her without meeting any resistance. “You’re deliciously wet, darling. How long have you wanted this? Wanted my tongue on you, wanted me - my fingers or my tongue or my cock, any part of me - inside you?”

She bucked, fucking herself on his fingers helplessly. “Too long,” she whispered. “Far too long.”

“Then I shall reward your patience, my love.” Without another word he dove right back between her legs; his hand spread her open, his tongue running circles around her clit before finally wrapping his lips around it and suckling.

She whined, the sensation momentarily overwhelming, but then he shifted into gentle, loving licks. Even that was intense, her hand instinctively lowering over his head, about to fist into his curls, until she remembered they needed to keep them pristine for the reception. She saw his eyes crinkle at her movement, but his mouth and fingers never stopped their work.

His fingers pumped into her faster, curling to hit her spot with every pass. His tongue lapped harder, the delicious friction making her hips move of their own accord, grinding against him. The fingers spreading her open, the naked, sheer desire in those eyes eating up her every reaction, the way his hips moved desperately in rhythm with his fingers, and the tent in his trousers were sights to behold, sights she had not seen in far too long, and it brought her climax barreling towards her.

“Astarion,” she whimpered, his name a quiet supplication upon the altar of his tongue.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, dragging a fang across her clit. The vibration and the slight sting of his fang sent chills racing along her entire body. She fought the urge to arch, to allow her eyes to roll back, wanting to see it. To see him. Their eyes met, and he cockily raised a brow as he gave her one last, hard flick, perfectly timed with a hard thrust of his fingers.

She bit her hand, fangs inadvertently breaking skin, a loud, muffled scream emanating from her as she came. Her hips jerked and Astarion wrapped a hand around her hip, pressing her closer as he lapped up everything she had to give. As she slowly recovered he kept licking, seemingly unwilling to stop. She could still see his erection straining against his trousers, his hips still slowly rocking.

“I… fuck,” she finally managed to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing gently, feeling slightly oversensitive.

Astarion let go, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He wiped his mouth on his cravat, then tugged it off. “Plenty of time to spare, just as I expected.”

Still trembling, Ban barely managed an annoyed glare. She let her eyes stray to the bulge between his legs. “And what about you?”

He looked down, as if noticing his clearly painful erection for the first time. “I think I can wait a little longer.” He adjusted his trousers and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I simply wanted to end your punishment.”

“As for myself,” he drew in close and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, “I figure I have all night, and eternity after that.”

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stagefoureddiediaz · 11 hours

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ugh this is horrible news tommy is still around, hope to god he's gone in the finale. v

Maybe in your world Nonnie, but not in mine and I'm not entirely sure why you felt the need to come and complain about it on my blog, but here we are!

It makes perfect Narrative sense for Tommy to still be around in the back end of the season, and even possibly into the start of season 8. The show is telling a story of Bucks bisexuality, so why woould they get rid of Tommy so quickly? To do so would do a disservice to that story - a massive disservice. I'm guessing you're hating on this relationship becasue you see it getting in the way of Buddie, rather than viewing it as a vital step on the route to Buddie.

Lets put it into simple terms - Buck figures out he's bi and then begins to explore that newly discovered aspect of himself. The show has also taken the time to move Buck from someone who didn't really do relationships (of the long term variety), into someone who is looking for love and looking for forever. But in amongst all of that, he hasn't really had a healthy long term relationship, the closest he had to that was with Ali and that one didn't last especially long and she wasn't around for most of it

Buck isn't ready for an endgame queer relationship right now - he is still to immature from a relationship perspective - especially a queer relationship perspective. If Eddie was available and he and Buck got together - as they are as characters right now, they wouldn't last - they're not in a position to do so successfully. And this isn't me suggesting that they need to have figured everything out before they get together - to have fully healed etc, because thats neither realistic or something I would want to see - what it means is that they both need to get to a point where they are in a healthy enough place to put in the work together, understand each others flaws, and their own flaws and proactively work towards overcoming those things together and as of right now, neither of them are - they are getting their and moving rapidly in the right direction, but Buck needs to learn a bit more, and in many ways learn how to be with a man, before he will be ready to start anything with Eddie.

The growth we're getting to watch Buck go through right now - in the aftermath of the lightening strike, his reckoning with his mortality etc and the fact he's now off the hamster wheel and moving forward - in a healthy and faster way than we've ever seen from him, speaks volumes.

Tommy is also a far better developed love interest than any other love interest we've seen Buck (or indeed Eddie) with (Abby excepted but she was a main, so had her own purpose on the show)- I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling like I know Tommy more after 3 episodes plus what we got from the begins episodes he was in, than I managed to ascertain about Taylor or Ana or Nataila etc!

Not to mention, him figuring out he's in Love with Eddie as part of this process is going to be fun to watch. The show has made no bones about re-enforcing at every. Single. Opportunity how close, how entwined and how important Buck and Eddie are to one another - the show has quite literally been prioritising that over anything else Buck and Eddie related - Buck was there front and centre - placed very much on an equal footing with Shannon and even Eddie himself in 7x01, and then Eddie was the centre of Bucks bi arc in 7x04 and in his coming out in 7x05. They are literally moving chess pieces into place to tell an amazing story of queer love in later life and creating an epic slow burn for the ages.

And finally, Eddie is, as far as we know at this point in time, still in a relationship with Marisol - why shouldn't Buck get to explore who he is and what he want's within a relationship rather than sitting pining on the sidelines - that isn't healthy in any way shape or form. Eddie still has stuff to figure out about himself.

Even Tim and Oliver have stated in interviews that this is about a happy and joyful queer experience of figuring out bisexuality and therefore within that is giving the narrative a romcom vibe. But they have also stated that Tommy isn't going to be around for that long - that he is very much a narrative device.

It is worth pointing out that timelines on various aspects of the narrative may have been shifted because of the season 8 renewal - but that is only going to help tell the story because now it doesn't have to be rushed. I'm still fully expecting some form of feeling realisation from one of them by the end of the season (my money is on Buck), setting up for season 8 and Buddie going canon either 8a finale or early into 8b.

You have every right to dislike Tommy if thats you jam - have at it, but don't come to my blog and expect me to agree with you. I'm not a multi shipper by any means - I'm a one ship kind of gal and I will be a Buddie shipper until the end of time, but within that, I am here for amazing storytelling and amazing queer storytelling - the like of which I've not had the privilege to watch on my screen before - especially one that hits so close to home. Its a really important story to tell and I'd rather it not be rushed.

And if you had to pick - I'm pretty sure you'd rather have Tommy around for a bit longer that Marisol!!!!

#kym answers things #nonnie asks #We love Tommy on this blog so don't come to my inbox trying to spread hate!#I get not wanting to see half of your ship with anyone other than the other half of it I really do but to deny the narrative thats going to #get you to canon is just a fools errand - its precisely because of that narrative that will make the ship going canon all the more rewardin #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #911 abc #911 discourse

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psychesalcove · 1 day

Text

WE WANNA TALK ABOUT SEX BUT WE'RE NOT ALLOWED

college au!percy jackson x fem!reader

⚠️: reader has anxiety, percy being too obvious for his own good, shitty writing (im sorry guys 😭), mentions of sex, cursing, emotional cheating (on percys end), not proofread at all, mentions of an anxiety attack, insecure reader

IN WHICH: you and percy have been dating for around a year. however, you feel like he is always choosing annabeth over you, even if he isn't aware of it. tonight, you decided to confront him about it, ending the night not knowing where your relationship stands with him.

requested: yes, by anon

a/n: GUYS IM SO SORRY IM KIKE NOT GOOD AT WRITING ANGST BUT I TRIES 😭😭 JUST MESSAGW ME ABAIN AND ILL REWRITE IT IN A DIFFERENT WAY BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!😔

you knew this talk had to happen at some point. it was inevitable. there was this unspoken tension between you and percy, and you weren't even sure if he was aware of it. for a while, you thought it was just your anxiety driven brain making you feel the tension—but you soon realized it was there and not made up.

percy and you had been dating for around a year, beggening right before your freshman year of college started. before that, percy had been in a relationship with annabeth. you were on neutral terms with her;you weren't best friends, but you also didn't hate eachother. but lately, that feeling of neutrality with her was slipping away.

you knew percy and her were close, but you didn't understand why they were as close as they were. you knew percy would never cheat, but you figured he didn't understand not being there for his partner.

anytime you wanted to be around him, he would say that annabeth needed him for something. reviewing notes for class, wanting help with decorating her condo, helping her with a new recipe she was doing, anything really.

at first, you didn't mind that much. you knew they weren't sleeping with eachother or anything, but as time went on, going into the last quarter of the school year, you knew that he would go back to annabeth sooner rather than later. his mind was always occupied with her, somehow managing to bring her up in every conversation you have with him.

ᝰ

you sat on the beige couch that you and percy had bought at Ikea last summer, looking out to the balcony area, waiting for percy to arrive. as much as you didn't want to talk to him about this, you knew the longer you put it off the harder the talk would be. you assumed he would be getting back in around 5 minutes, knowing the route he takes in his car to get to the condo from campus.

suddenly the old wooden door creaked open, disturbing the silence that blanketed the room. you sighed lightly, still wondering how to even start a conversation with percy.

percy soon came into vision, dropping his jansport backpack onto the floor before turning to you. "hi, pretty," he hummed. "how was your day?"

you decided to ease into a normal conversation between the two of you before asking the inevitable question that could determine the future of your relationship. "it was fine, english has been kicking my ass recently though, how about you?" you asked, moving around so you were in a more comfortable position.

"it was also fine, but if your having trouble with english, i could ask annabeth—" you cut him off with a sigh, knowing that was your que to steer the conversation in another direction.

"could you sit down percy, please?" you say, making eye contact with him for the first time since he came home. "we really need to talk,"

"uhm.. yeah of course" he says looking around the room quickly before sitting down on the sofa. "if this is about those mint cookies, i did eat them, didn't mean to though, promise." he explains quickly, looking at you with a small smile.

you press your lips into a thin line, knowing how different of a conversation this is going to be than that. "percy, where do you see our relationship going?"

there it is. the idea is out there, in the open, for percy to do anything with.

you watch his eyes widen slightly, looking at you with a questioning look. "what do you mean? i mean, obviously we're going to keep living together, maybe get a better place for next year, we could even make our new kitchen like annabeths–"

"there you go again talking about annabeth!" you said, raising your voice slightly. "i know that the two of you are friends, and i'm fine with that, but not if it's getting in the way of our relationship. almost every conversation you bring her up:annabeth this annabeth that. i know you two are exs, and again, i'm fine with that, but that also means you could have romantiic feelings about her still. i really don't think we should even be doing this if you do, percy."

he sat up straighter at the tone of your voice and what you said to him. "why would i still have feelings for a annabeth? that's why we chose to end our relationship, because neither of us had feelings for eachother!" he exclaimed, attempting to keep a calm voice.

"percy, i really just don't think you're in the mental place to be in a relationship with me, or maybe anyone right now. i don't know what to do—"

percy cut you off, "what do you mean you don't know what to do? i'm the one being told by my girlfriend of a year that she doesn't know if she wants to continue our relationship!" he sat up from the couch and started motioning with his hands. "I'm the one that doesn't know what to do. it's not like i'm going around and having sex with annabeth. you know i wouldn't do that to you!"

"there are other ways of cheating than that percy, and im not saying your cheating on me, I'm just saying that your mind is still on annabeth, which means I don't know if we should be a thing or not." you said. "and honestly, with the reaction your having, i wouldn't be surprised if you were cheating." you also sat up from the couch and moved to stand by him.

"i understand that, but like i said, i'm not going over there to have sex with her or kiss her or anything like that. all im doing is spending time with her, can i not chose who i spend my time with now?" percy spat at you, giving you a look that made you know he was starting to get pissed off.

"that's the problem percy! your spending time with her, which would be okay, if you weren't canceling on me, your girlfriend!" you said, continuing to raise your voice.

he scoffed at you. "name one time that i cancel—"

"last week, when we were supposed to go the cafe to study for an exam together. i was waiting for you at the door when you were grabbing your backpack, and then you come up to me and say that you can't go because annabeth had finished reviewing your notes. and, for some reason, you had to go to hers that moment to get your notes instead of saying that you could later and go to the cafe, with your girlfriend!" you rambled, getting more mad remembering the memory.

you saw a small flash of guilt in percys eyes, but you didn't let him speak. "every single week percy! its the same fucking thing! you cancle last minute to go to annabeth, even dates you've canceled. and i know that your not sleeping with her or anything, but you're still putting her first instead of me. and that hurts. it really hurts." your voice became softer, cracking when you finished speaking.

your eyes filled with tears, and you started blinking rapidly to keep them at bay. "so yeah, percy, that's why i'm wondering what's going to be our relationship in the future. because right now, i'm not seeing one at all."

you shook your head as you saw his mouth open, still wanting to talk and get through to him. "i love you, so, so much. and it hurts, knowing that i'll always be out second to annabeth. if you want to continue our relationship, you're really going to have to change, percy. and i don't know if you're willing to do that for me." your tears starting openly falling down your face, your brain thinking of what it'll be like to not have percy in your life.

you saw percys mouth open, so you quickly looked down, knowing whatever he was going to say will make you go over the edge and into an anxiety attack. "...why didn't you tell me you felt like that?" he asked with a soft tone to his voice. you shook your had again, knowing you didn't fully get through to him.

"if you were feeling like that, you could have told me and i would have stopped," percy explained, opening his arms to hug you.

you quickly stepped back, not wanting to touch him. "you know what percy? i shouldn't have even had to talk to you about it, because it shouldn't have been a problem. i would have talked to you about it sooner, but i knew it was going to go the way this is going." you said as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

"your not understanding what you did wrong, just saying that i should have done something. which i should have, but i was to nervous, i know that you're too good foe me, gods, i get reminded every single day! so i didn't bring it up to you because i knew that i could've lost you by talking about this!" you let out your first sob as you finished, now thinking of how your going to have to move all your stuff out and stay at your friends condo until you can find a new one.

"hey—hey, let's have you calm down first before we talk. i promise I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to," he said, attempting to make eye contact before you looked down again.

"can, can you just leave? just for a while, please? I–I need to think and it's just really hard being around you right now." you said through your sobs, feeling guilty of practically kicking percy out of his own home, even if just for a while.

you didn't hear what he said, but you watched through your blurred vision as he walked away twords the front hall, heard him grab his keys, and then heard the door close behind him. you quickly walked into your shared bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of your queen size bed.

you look over at percys nightstand, seeing a framed picture of the two of you on your 6th month anniversary. then, your eyes quickly go to a polaroid in front of the framed picture. you sobs grew louder as you grabbed the framed picture and threw it out of anger, sending glass shards across the carpeted floor.

the polaroid was of percy and annabeth, sitting at the campfire back at camp half blood, both having matching smiles on their faces.

you could never compete with annabeth, even in the form of a picture.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy jackson x you #pjo x you #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader angst #percy jackson x you angst

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television-overload · 2 days

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 2/34 - decaf coffee

[Read on AO3]

In the next week, the topic of adoption doesn’t come up again, and she tries to put it out of her mind as much as possible. They wrap up their case, spending several dull hours working on their reports, and wait impatiently for something else to come across their desk, ideally something a little more intellectually stimulating than the last few duds they’ve worked.

The good thing about not having any cases, though, is that no one blinks twice when they take a long lunch here, or leave work a few minutes early at the end of the day there. A spontaneous mid-morning coffee break at their favorite cafe down the street gets them out of the building, enjoying a rare warm day in December.

On the way to the coffee shop, they walk side by side—as always—until Scully stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Oh, Mulder. Look,” she says sadly.

He follows her gaze to the other side of the street, where a little boy no older than four stands with frightened eyes, looking back and forth helplessly while busy businessmen and women in suits pass by without sparing him a glance.

Mulder checks for cars quickly before jogging across the street, giving Scully little warning before taking off. She follows behind, carefully dodging traffic as it approaches.

“Hey, buddy, you lost?” Mulder asks, approaching the boy and kneeling down to his height.

The boy nods, red-faced and eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s okay, we’ll help you get this figured out,” he says consolingly. “Are you here with your mom?”

“Uh huh,” the little boy answers shakily.

Mulder gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. “Alright, well let’s find her, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“I’m Fox and this is Dana,” he says, nodding up at her. “We work for the FBI, do you know what that is?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, we’re kind of like cops.”

He sniffles.

“What’s your name, bud?”

“William.”

The world slows to a halt, and Scully’s eyes widen.

It’s a common name. So common, in fact, that she can name at least six Williams, Wills, or Bills off the top of her head without hesitating. But that’s exactly the problem.

It’s a family name. Both her family, and Mulder’s.

Fox William Mulder.

“William? Hey, that’s my middle name!”

She won’t think about it. She won’t think about the way that she wanted to use that name, if they were lucky enough to succeed at in vitro fertilization. She won’t think of that little boy she pictured, or the man she hoped would stay and be his father.

“Really?” William asks, eyes lighting up for the first time.

Mulder smiles. “Yeah, better than Fox, right?”

She hears a giggle, and remembers Emily. Mulder got her to laugh, too, even under the most harrowing circumstances. She shakes her head, focusing on the situation at hand. She won’t be of any help if she can’t get her head out of the clouds.

Mulder asks, “You know what your mommy’s name is?”

“Um—Susan,” William answers.

“That’s great. Good job, buddy, that helps. Where did you last see her?”

“We goed to get me shoes for playing soccer,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Soccer, huh? I’m partial to baseball myself—”

“Mulder—” Scully stops him, tapping him on the shoulder. When he looks at her, she points to the other side of the road, and he nods his thanks.

“Hey, look, there’s a shoe store across the street,” he says triumphantly, refocusing in on William. “I bet you she’s right over there looking for you!”

He stands, reaching out his hand for William to hold, and they cross the street together with Scully following closely behind. She watches them, and thinks that if she were a passerby, she might think they were father and son, out for a midday stroll.

It’s a side of Mulder she doesn’t often get to see. A side she suspected lay dormant for a long time after Samantha disappeared, but it’s still there, popping up here and there when it is needed.

“Hey, Scully, can you go in and check if there’s a Susan in there?” Mulder asks, looking to her for assistance. “I want to stay out here in case she comes by looking for him.”

She nods, clearing her head once again of the swirling thoughts that had occupied her. “Yeah, of course.”

She goes in and comes back out just as quickly, shaking her head despondently.

“The clerk said she and her son left about 10 minutes ago,” she reports.

“Did he say which way they went?”

“To the right.”

Mulder glances in that direction and nods. “10 minutes, well she couldn’t have gotten far. We found him just over there,” he says optimistically. “William, keep an eye out for if you see her.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

They head to the right, Mulder now carrying William on his shoulders up above the crowds. They pass a few stores, finding no luck so far, but then are startled when some pedestrians up in front of them nearly get bowled over by the sudden opening of a shop door. A frantic woman exits, then darts off, apologizing as she goes.

Mulder starts jogging, knowing that it must be the mother. He dodges other people walking, skirting between them expertly, which leaves Scully behind by a fair few paces. Luckily, she’s used to it. The woman is poised to enter the next shop when he calls out, “Susan?”

She turns.

“I think this little one belongs to you.”

An instant wave of relief washes over the woman’s face, and she runs to reach them. “William!” she gasps.

The boy all but leaps into her arms, curling in close while she strokes the back of his head, comforting them both.

“Where did you find him?” she asks through tears, holding tight to her wayward son.

“Just across the street,” Mulder says with a smile, pointing to where they came from.

Susan sighs in muted frustration. “There’s an ice cream shop over there, I should have known.”

“My sister did the same thing when I was about 9. Gave us all a heart attack,” Mulder chuckles.

The casual mention of his sister causes Scully to look at him in shock, but he’s too preoccupied to notice.

“I can’t thank you enough. I turned my back for one second.”

“No problem, just glad he’s back where he belongs,” Mulder responds.

After waving goodbye to William, he turns around, a content smile on his face. He starts in the direction of the coffee shop, as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened. Expecting Scully to follow, he walks right past her, but she stands frozen in place.

It’s insane. It’s impulsive. She’s going to do it anyway.

“Okay.”

He pauses and glances back at the statue that is Dana Scully. Amusement plays at his lips, though there’s more than a little confusion there too.

“Huh?”

“Okay.”

He laughs, backtracking a few steps so he is closer to her.

“You’re gonna have to say more words, Scully, I don’t know what you’re—”

“I want to adopt a baby.”

His eyes widen, and he looks to his right and left as if someone might overhear their personal conversation and go tell on them to their supervisors.

“You’re bringing this up now?” he asks, a little incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“And– and you’ve thought this through? You’re sure?”

No, not really. To be honest, she’d barely thought through this at all. There are so many reasons why they shouldn’t, why this is a terrible idea. They’re not ordinary people. They have enemies who could use this against them, careers that have proven to be life threatening on multiple occasions.

And yet…

“Mulder, seeing you with that boy…” she says, her eyes trailing off in the direction the mother and son had disappeared. “Yes, I’m sure. Only if the offer still stands, I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your—”

He stops her. “No! No, I’m in. Let’s do it. Let’s– We should talk about this.” He grabs her elbow and starts toward the coffee shop with her in tow, and the pace of his step forces her to walk faster to keep up. “Buy you a cup of coffee? Breakfast sandwich?” he asks, scrambling for something to say.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Just the coffee then.”

The bell jingles as they enter. They sit down at a booth and Mulder leans in, his voice low and placating.

“Okay, no need to panic. We’re just talking about it, yeah? Breathe.”

She huffs out a laugh. “How are you so calm about this?”

He smirks. “I’ve been reading about this stuff for months. You only found my stash of brochures last week.”

“Months?” she breathes, voice laced with disbelief. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “It’s just a little… overwhelming, I suppose,” she says.

“I have that effect on people,” he jokes. “It’s not a rush. If we do this, it will take time, we just have to decide if it’s something we want to pursue. There’s an application process, and getting approved, not to mention finding the right placement...”

Scully feels out of her depth. He knows a lot more about this than she does. She almost wants to ask if he has a slide show prepared.

“I want to do it. I do,” she assures him, carefully choosing her words, “I just don’t know where to begin. It sounds like a crazy idea. Is it crazy?”

“Probably,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “Kind of just makes me want to do it more.”

She’d never admit it, but she feels the same way. Maybe Bill’s right. He has rubbed off on her.

“So… where do we start? What do we need to do?” she asks, needing more information before she starts spiraling.

“Why don’t we take it slow? Start with you and me and an actual adult conversation about our priorities, and then maybe this weekend I can stop by with some Chinese and we can look into next steps.”

She takes a deep breath, heart rate slowing back down to normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

How do we do this? How do we have this conversation we should have had months ago?

Before they get a chance, a waitress stops by to take their orders, and Scully opts for decaf. As electrified and anxious as she feels right now, she really doesn’t need caffeine to make it even worse. She can feel her knee bouncing relentlessly under the table.

Once the waitress is gone, Mulder gets the ball rolling with the first order of business.

“I guess to start us off, I need to know how involved you want me to be. I can help you find an agency and be your personal reference on your application, or I could—” he pauses. Breathes. “Like I said, I’ll be as involved as you want. I just need to know what you’re thinking.”

She shakes her head. “Mulder, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“I should tell you that the agencies favor couples over single parents,” he adds before she can finish, “It might be more difficult to get approved on your own, but if that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”

She studies him, the nuance of every microexpression on his face. She knows what her heart is wishing for, but what about him? Would she be asking too much of him?

“What do you want?”

He ducks his head, staring at the chipped surface of the table before glancing up at her with an apologetic smile.

“I’m a selfish man.”

She looks at him, needing more of an answer before she dares to respond. If he doesn’t mean what she thinks he means, one wrong word could spell disaster. Upset the delicate balance that is their friendship. She has to hear it straight from his mouth, this is no time for assumptions.

He sits back in his booth, and she braces herself for what he’s about to say.

“I want to coach little league,” he confesses. “I want to drive an ugly minivan, the ugliest one you’ve ever seen. I want to help with math homework, to tell crazy stories at bedtime and go on camping trips together.”

He looks deep in her eyes, and she shudders, feeling like his words have penetrated her very soul.

“I want it all, Scully. I want a family.”

I want you.

She feels tears pool in her eyes, her throat closing with emotion.

“I want that too,” she chokes out, unable to form any more words.

He reaches out a hand across the table and takes hers. She holds on tight.

“Well, that’s one thing settled,” he says, blinking back the pinpricks of tears in his own eyes.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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xoxoavenger · 2 days

Note

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🎁🎈🎂🎉🎊 I loved Try Me (Matt Murdock x Reader), I was wondering if maybe you could write a sequel? I could see an intimate moment where she’s feeding him the soup she made and taking care of him, potentially with the hilarity of Foggy finding out he’s got two super powered friends

thanks! hopefully this is what you were looking for, I had fun writing it!

Ask Me

pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

word count: 1099

warnings: none

part 1

birthday masterlist main masterlist

"I can't believe you're Daredevil." She mutters as she ladles the soup into a bowl. She made a broth more than a soup because she didn't have time to cut the vegetables, but it'll do the trick. She also didn't know the extent of Matt's injures, and she didn't want him to have trouble eating anything. "Does Foggy know?" She asks as she brings the bowl over to the couch.

"Yes," Matt chuckles, but his teeth are clenched in pain. She kneels next to the couch and she is still shocked by his injuries, even though she's already seen them. He has a large cut across his chest, and resists the urge to touch it.

She watches Matt try to sit up, but he's clearly in too much pain. She puts the soup on the ground in favor of helping him up. She tries not to let her pulse rush as she touches his bare back and bicep, pulling him up gently until he is sitting up enough to eat.

"Here, let's get you some food." She tells him, spooning some broth and then carefully helping him eat some. It's so quiet in the apartment that she swears she can feel her own heart race as she feeds Matt. They're close, and her brain is reeling with the thought of how Matt, and blind man, can be a vigilante.

"I think that's good." Matt groans when they're about three fourths of the way though the bowl. She gets up to put the bowl away and grab a warm, wet cloth.

"How are you Daredevil?" She asks, sinking down to her knees again and beginning to wipe off the blood around his wounds.

"Are you asking if I'm actually blind?" He questions, but he's smiling, so she can tell he's joking.

"I know you're blind, Matt." She says with a small sigh. She's seen his unfocused eyes too many times to think he was just preteneding.

"All my other senses are heightened." He tells her, tensing as she begins to wipe a big, deep cut. She hopes that soon her healing food will kick in; she's never seen it help on this level, and she's worried it won't work as well as Matt is hoping it will.

"So, you can hear really good?" She asks, wondering what exactly that means. He shrugs, smiling a little bit.

"And smell, and taste. And feel. I have to have specific sheets because of how sensitive my skin is." He's feeling better, she can tell, and it makes her smile.

"How did figure it out?" She asks quietly. She's had these powers ever since she can remember, but she'd never told anyone and no one ever figured it out either. This is a first, sharing a gift, and she can't help but feel a little scared.

"That your food could heal people?" He clarifies. She almost nods, but then catches herself.

"Yeah," She confirms.

"You asked me what happened again the day after you first gave me the croissant, as if you knew it should have gone away. And I usually have accelerated healing anyway, but not that fast. You wouldn't have known that." He's starting to relax more, and she knows he needs to get some sleep soon.

"You wanna move to the bed?" She asks, putting the cloth down and preparing to move him. Before he can answer, Foggy comes stomping back in.

"So both of my best friends are super heroes?" He yells, throwing the drugstore bag in their general direction. Y/N's eyes widen as Foggy walks to them.

"I am not a super hero." Y/N clarifies.

"I wouldn't classify myself as one either." Matt interjects, a hand out to stop Foggy's rant. It does nothing, and Foggy soldiers on.

"You can feel, hear, and smell things no human should be able to feel, hear, and smell." He points at Matt, who raises an eyebrow. "And you can heal people with your food, that you've been feeding me for months!" Foggy moves to Y/N, and she just shakes her head.

"Have you ever wondered why you haven't gotten sick in months?" She asks, and he just scoffs.

"That proves my point!" He screams. Y/N and Matt shake their heads, Matt smirking.

"Foggy, neither of us are superheroes. You don't need to freak out." Matt tries to calm him down, but Foggy just gets more worked up.

"Are you kidding me? You could be Avengers for all I know!" Foggy grabs the bag that he had thrown and begins to get some of the bandages and Neosporin out to help Matt.

"Oh my God," Y/N groans, rolling her eyes and putting her head in her hands. Honestly, Foggy freaking out was kinda funny, but she isn't sure if he's being serious now or not.

"We're not Avengers, Foggy." Matt chuckles, and Y/N begins to put bandages over Matt's injuries.

"Well I just don't know that, do I?" Foggy looks over at the pot on the stove, walking over there quickly. "What did you make?"

"Just a quick broth. I wanted to get Matt something quick." She tells Foggy as she begins to focus on the task at hand.

"Is this why I haven't gotten paper cuts?" Foggy asks as he ladles a little soup out for himself.

"It doesn't make you skin extra strong, Fog." Matt tells him as she continues bandaging him up. Her hands brushing his skin make Matt want to crawl out of his skin in a good way, which didn't make sense until this very moment.

"Did I hurt you?" Y/N asks softly when he tenses.

"No," He mutters, putting a hand on her wrist to stop her. "It's okay, I think the big ones are taken care of." He just wants to lay down and sleep it off now, but he wants to ask her one more thing.

"Let me help you to your room." She offers, and together, with him leaning on her, they make it to Matt's room.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asks as they sit down. He can feel the heat begin to flush her cheeks, her heart beginning to race. He's worried still that maybe she feels uncomfortable until she responds.

"Working." She thinks she's funny, and Matt chuckles.

"Do you want to go to Josie's with me tomorrow night?" He asks, and she ducks her head and smiles.

"As long as my boss lets me off on time." She says, nudging him with her shoulder.

"I'll talk to him." He tells her, both of them smiling hard enough that their cheeks hurt.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

#matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil

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fanficshiddles · 2 days

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The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 53 (Final Chapter)

It was the day of Loki’s birthday and his party.

Loki was woken up, not so rudely, to Claire under the blanket giving him a blowjob. She then gave him his other presents, even though he joked that was more than enough.

She’d gifted him a scarf, a new briefcase for work. He’d been going on about wanting new knives in the kitchen for cooking, so she got him a brand-new set that was quite expensive.

His favourite present from her though was a history book he’d been looking for, there was only fifty made in the world and he’d been trying to get it for years. It even had a letter of authenticity along with it.

‘How…’ He was speechless and just kept staring at the book in shock.

‘I had a lot of help.’ Was all Claire said.

‘I am forever in your debt for this.’ Loki said as he grabbed her in a big bear hug, making her laugh.

‘Says the guy who got me a bloody car! A book doesn’t compare.’

‘It so does. You have no idea what I was prepared to do or sell for this book.’ Loki said seriously.

‘I dread to think, so I’m not going to ask.’ Claire dismissed and rushed to the kitchen.

She came back ten seconds later with breakfast she had prepared for him, but he was nose deep in the book already. Even placing the food down right by him didn’t get his interest.

In the end, she had to pluck the book out of his hands to get him to focus.

‘Sorry, darling.’ He chuckled.

‘I’m glad you’re so excited about your present.’ Claire laughed.

‘I'll try and leave it till tomorrow.’ He said, though did glance longingly at the book on the table.

‘I’m sure I could leave you alone for a few hours upstairs while I prep down here for the party.’ She teased as she sat down next to him.

‘No, I’ll help.’ Loki said as they began to eat.

‘You will not! You’re not preparing your own party. I’ve got Jessica and Louise coming to help.’

‘Oh?’ Loki raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. I figured it would be good getting Louise over early, so she can at least meet Jessica first. Then when people start to trickle in it might be easier for her. She hasn’t been in a room with more than like three people for years. I’m not sure how her confidence will be.’

‘Ah, of course. That’s a good idea. Let her know she can go upstairs whenever she needs, if she wants some time to herself at any point.’ Loki said.

‘I will.’ Claire nodded.

When Jessica and Louise arrived just after lunch time, Claire shooed Loki upstairs with his book. Which he didn’t put up much of an argument over.

Jessica and Louise instantly clicked, which Claire was so glad of. She had a feeling they would though. The three of them had a good time setting everything up for the party, including a few glasses of wine of course.

When people began arriving for the party, it wasn’t long before music was turned up and drinks began flowing. Claire had managed to get Loki downstairs without much of a fuss, especially when she teased him with the fact she wasn’t wearing knickers under her dress, then coaxed him downstairs.

When Matt arrived, Louise was speaking to Loki. Claire took Matt straight over to introduce her to him.

‘Matt, this is my sister, Louise. Louise, this is Matt.’ Claire grinned and motioned to Louise.

‘Hi, nice to meet you.’ Louise said with a smile.

She was nervous being around people she didn’t know, but she knew she was safe with Claire and of course with Loki. Meeting everyone as they arrived was easier than walking in to a bunch of people already there.

‘Nice to meet you too.’ Matt put his hand out towards her.

She hesitated, but then eventually did put her hand into his to shake hands, though it was a very quick hand shake before she retracted her hand. Loki internally cursed at himself for not pre warning Matt that she might be a little unsure around him at first.

Claire introduced her to all the others as they arrived too. So it wouldn’t seem obvious she was trying to hook them up. Though she did make sure they ended up back by Matt, so they could talk.

‘Remember, if you need space just say. You can go upstairs.’ Claire whispered to Louise.

‘I know, thank you. I’m fine, honestly. I know I’m safe with you guys. And everyone seems really nice.’ Louise assured her.

Louise, Claire, Loki, Matt and Spencer were together talking casually, when Louise became distracted looking over Claire’s shoulder. Claire saw her eyes widen.

‘Who is that?’ She asked in a little awe.

Loki and Claire turned around to see Chris entering, heading right their way.

‘Ah… That’s Chris, Loki’s brother.’ Claire told her.

Chris was halfway across the room towards them, but his eyes were locked on Louise, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. As he drew closer, Loki saw his nostrils flaring as he took in her scent.

‘Chris, this is my sister, Louise. Louise, this is Chris.’ Claire quickly introduced, though she wasn’t sure if he heard her or not because he was so focused on Louise.

Louise’s cheeks turned red as Chris stood on front of her, looking completely in wonder, Loki had never seen him look at someone like that before.

‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ Chris eventually spoke, his voice low and smooth.

‘Lovely to meet you, too.’ Louise squeaked out, she put her hand out towards him straight away without hesitation.

Chris took her hand in his and felt electricity shoot through his veins. He slowly lifted her hand and dipped his head down to kiss the back of her hand when she didn’t pull away.

Louise couldn’t take her eyes off of him, Loki sensed her heartbeat spike, but not in fear. He also sensed Chris’ heartbeat spike too. He looked at Claire and she looked at him, both sharing the same look.

‘Brother, I need a quick word.’ Loki said as he put his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

Chris only just managed to tear his eyes away from Louise to glance at Loki, Loki motioned towards the kitchen with his head. Chris reluctantly agreed and let go of Louise’s hand.

Louise’s skin was tingling where he had kissed her.

Loki dragged Chris into the kitchen and shut the door so they could have a little bit of privacy.

‘Please tell me what I think is happening, is not happening.’ Loki whined.

‘She… She’s my soulmate! I can feel it.’ Chris said breathless, unable to get his mind to work properly.

Claire entered the kitchen and shut the door behind her, to see Chris looking like he’d just found gold and Loki with his face in his hands.

‘Is she your soulmate?’ Claire squeaked.

‘This is not happening.’ Loki said firmly. ‘Not Louise! Anyone but her!’ He groaned.

‘She’s beautiful.’ Chris said, his voice was a little high, like he was in a trance.

‘To be honest, you are totally her type. Tall, dark, handsome, tattooed. Plus being a vampire… Heck, I’m surprised she hasn’t spread her legs for you already.’ Claire teased with a laugh.

‘We are trying to hook her up with Matt! Not whore her out to my brother!’ Loki argued.

‘Not going to happen.’ Chris growled low and turned to head back through to the living room.

‘Oh no… no, no, no!’ Loki chanted in a panic and darted after him.

Claire, however, had a huge smile on her face and she felt fuzzy in her heart for Louise and Chris.

Perhaps her match-making hadn’t worked out exactly as planned, but it seemed that her sister was getting a match anyway.

‘Oooo, we could double date!’ Claire said excitedly to herself as she rushed after them.

NOTE: There is a sequel! There's so SO much more to go with these guys. Instead of making it a super long fic, I thought a sequel would be better, which will become apparent why when I post the first chapter next week.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #loki fic #chris motionless #the redbridge hunts #vampire Loki

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18thcenturythirsttrap · 1 day

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how could one make the ideal football team using only frev figures?

Thank you so much for this ask, @citizen-card! I'm sorry it has taken me a little while to answer. Your question was sent to me during the anti-truth hour but tbh, creating a football team of FRev figures has been on my agenda for some time.

I present… MONTAGNE F.C.

Montagne F.C., est. 1793, are an exciting team with an attacking ethos but also strong in defence (of the patrie). They tend to play in the popular modern 4-3-3 formation, which morphs into a 4-3-2-1 in the final stages of attack with Fabre as the lone striker up front.

Goalkeeper: Hérault de Séchelles. Team heart-throb. At over 6' tall, has the reach to make saves across the width and height of the net. Tends to leave the field as soon as the final whistle has blown so that he has time to sign hundreds of portraits before heading off to some highly exclusive nightclub. Fabre always tries to tag along.

Left Fullback: Saint-Just. The youngest team member, just as well given the amount of running he has to do on the overlap. Wishes Robespierre would allow him to trust his own instincts more rather than constantly shouting, “Forward, forward – no, come back! Come back!” Has a good understanding with his right fullback counterpart Le Bas. Desmoulins lives rent-free in his head.

Centre Back: Desmoulins. Only plays here because he thinks he can leave most of the defensive work to Danton, which is interesting because Danton thinks he can leave most of the work to Desmoulins. Writes the official fan newsletter, gets annoyed that Robespierre keeps sending back articles covered in red ink. Sings “You’re shit, and you know you are” at Saint-Just, then pretends it was someone in the crowd. Robespierre often has to separate them in the tunnel at half-time.

Centre Back: Danton. Undoubted talent, but lazy a.f. Stands by one of the goalposts chatting with Hérault, only springing into action if there’s an imminent danger of the opponents scoring a goal. When he does decide to put in a tackle, he goes in studs up. Loudest voice on the pitch, constantly shouting at the lads up front to show more audacity in counterattack.

Right Fullback: Le Bas. Lovely clean player, never booked, never carded. Not flashy, but he runs his heart out for the team every game. Sometimes wishes he’d get as much attention in match reports as Saint-Just, but then pushes the idea out of his head and keeps smiling through. His Instagram account is basically pictures of his wife, their baby, and Saint-Just.

Left Midfielder: Marat. Pushing 50 and still an absolute demon on the attack. Nips around defenders easily, puts this down to his low centre of gravity. Runs an edgy underground fanzine. Team physio and doctor, takes a no-nonsense approach to injuries, believes everything can be cured by sponging off with cold water and vinegar. Gives Fabre a kick when he dives, claiming “it’ll do him good”.

Central Midfielder: Billaud-Varenne. Always turns up for training and matches with Collot d’Herbois. In rondos, has to be reminded to pass the ball to someone else once in a while. Does allegedly unscripted fun fan-meet videos with Collot.

Right Midfielder: Collot d’Herbois. Devises the scripts for the fun fan-meet videos he films with Billaud. Threatened to shoot a fan who tried to improvise. The archetypal loose cannon, as much of a menace to his team-mates as to the opposition. Once tried to throw Robespierre over an advertising hoarding for windows.

Left Winger: Maximilien Robespierre. Self-appointed player-manager. Did all his coaching certificates, attended at least one course twice “to make sure I’ve taken it all in”. Obsessive in preparation for matches, likes to have a week analysing the opposition before he presents his tactics to the team. Doesn’t like overly physical play, says 99% of the game is won by character. Often booked for arguing with the referee for so long, it gets dark. Cult icon with the female fans, nobody – least of all him – is quite sure why.

Right Winger: Augustin 'Bonbon' Robespierre. His brother’s biggest fan and cheerleader, but a gifted player in his own right. More physically courageous in attack than Maximilien, also has something of a reputation as a talent-spotter. Reckons he saw a player who might be “the next big thing” down in Toulon.

Striker: Fabre d’Églantine. Fancies himself as much as he wishes everyone else fancied him. Posts daily (but suspiciously short) topless workout videos on his Instagram. Hérault always puts three laugh emojis in the comments. Feigns injury to try and win penalties, a nightmare for Robespierre who’s convinced he’ll be red carded for fakery one of these days. Dives, rolls and wails shamelessly. Should spend longer in the shower after matches.

----

At some point I might get round to drawing the team, team kit and badge, etc... But yep, that's my FRev starting 11!

#montagne f.c.#french revolution football au #frev #frev shitposting #french revolution #football

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nin-carab-nidh-madt · 3 days

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I have thought on Jadzia Dax from Star Trek Deep Space 9.

I'm currently rewatching the show (midway season 2), probably my 4th watch through over 8 years? My first time with slightly more youtube-essay-driven media analysis skills. I'm enjoying picking up on a lot more things than I used to but there's one thing that bugs me above all else.

Jadzia Dax doesn't really have a strongly defined character that shines through.

I've spent a while thinking about it. Obviously as a science officer its a little harder to tell stories the audience can understand and relate to compared to Odo's murder investigating or Sisko's exasperated diplomacy, but her stories have issues greater than that.

Both the stories centred on Dax, in season 1 where she stands trial for a crime supposedly committed by a former host, and in season 2 where someone tries to steal her symbiont, are about things that happen to Dax. Not the things Dax does. She is neither the perspective character through which we can see the world of Star Trek, with her own unique views and feelings, nor is she the one actively moving the plot forwards. She's either the victim who sacrifices herselr or quite literally refuses to do anything. Unfortunately this is quite a common failing of writing that's easy to fall into, writing about a character instead of the character making decisions that drive the plot. Its one that sci fi writing at the time seemed to do quite often with a lot (but not all) female characters. Ivanova and Talia from Babylon 5 fall victim to this too, especially in early seasons. In contrast, Major Kira, and even Ezri Dax later on have stronger characterisation and are the centre of their own stories.

I doubt this was intentional, its clear through the successes of writing other characters in the show that the writers, actors, and showrunners are trying to make everyone alive and meaningful, so what went wrong?

Looking at Jadzia Dax's character, I think what's clearly missing is a strong drive for her character. No real desires or vulnerabilities. No questions either. To provide constrasting examples:

Odo (who gets almost too much screen time in season 1) is clearly driven by a sense of justice no matter whatever starfleet rules say. He's in constant conflict with Quark, ever vigilant, somewhat isolated from other people. No one ever asks "Why does Odo do what he does?" His motivations are clear, and they even tie it up with an extra motive that's very plot relevant: the mystery of where he comes from. All things a single episode writer can use and explore.

Major Kira has her own conflict with starfleet, her desire to do right by her own people, to get justice for Bajor, and always stand up for the underdog which creates really good stories as she struggles with her own values and constantly has to make choices that affect the story.

Bashir wants acclaim, accomplishment, romance, and also for everyone to like him. Quark wants profit without putting himself at risk. O'Brien wants to just do his job and go home to his family. Sisko wants to hold everything together with the responsibility of peace and reason on his shoulders while singlehandedly raising his son. Jake wants community, friends, and freedom in his life. Funnily enough Ezri Dax has far better drive. Trying to figure out what she wants in life, handling this enormous change and overwhelming personality, and her own lack of confidence that she's useful to anyone sometimes. She grows and changes more over the course of a season than we ever see in early seasons Jadzia.

What does Jadzia Dax want?

I think in attempting to make a wise 300 year old person who's seen everything, they accidentally wrote themselves into a corner. Jadzia has no strong motivations to do much at all. She does fine as a secondary character, and I love how her friendship with Sisko plays out on screen, but beyond being surprisingly enlightened about a lot of things as the result of age and experience there's no drive there.

And so no drive or motivation, and no stories told from her perspective. We have ourselves a problem.

I thought for a while if I could find a solution to the issue rather than just offer criticism. I originally tried writing an outline for an episode. Jadzia would be a fantastic protagonist for any wacky sci fi short story concept that required a scientist to explore, such as time travel paradoxes, simulations, weird space anomolies that do "plot relevant thing" that she would be perfectly posed to actually explore instead of "technobabble and tap console" until the problem is solved.

Then I decided that all we really needed to have a framework any writer could use is to establish a strong character motivation for her. Here's my shot at it.

Jadzia Dax, in harmony with seven lifetimes of experience, is an extremely competent twenty seven year old woman. She can almost certainly do the job of anyone on the station better than they can. Fix a computer? Better than O'Brien can. First aid? She's there and solved the issue before Julian can get there. Solve a murder? A past host was an invesigator of course she can to Odo's chagrin. She has better ideas of what Sisko can do to bring the Bajorans towards the federation. Hell she's the best representative of federation values on that station and could constantly be presenting that of the story.

Dax struggles to hold herself back when she sees her friends failing at what she can solve the problem for them. She tries not to, that's what her training tells her to do. But out here on the edge of Federation space where there's constantly lives on the line? She finds herself interfering in other people's work more and more often. She just doesn't want it do be done wrong. She pushes herself hard to do too many jobs. She doesn't sleep or eat enough while telling everyone else to take care of themselves better. After a while people start relying on her. It turns from her helping to her having those responsibilities. Pilot. Diplomat. Linguist. Researcher. Mechanic. Leader. So much emotional support for her friends because everything they're suffering she's been through herself. It becomes too much for her and you could make the core of one story her just crashing. Learning how to balance her experience with giving room to other to shine through and solve their own problems, which they're very capable of doing. There's plenty more detail to elaborate on but I think this gives a core drive and conflict that lasts a character a couple of seasons at least to explore and grow through.

I happily invite thoughts as to whether my original observations are astute, or wether you think there aren't any problems with how Jadzia's passivity plays out in the show. If you think there are problems, do you think my perscribed solution helps fix them? How would you go about it?

#star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #jadzia dax #babylon 5 #writing

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whore4batfam · 3 days

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I’m still on about this and no one is going to like it or want to hear it but.

children can do things wrong and can be disciplined, and that’s actually really important. I’m not saying beat your kids, I don’t even believe in spanking, but it IS important to have boundaries and consequences, because that’s how the world works and one of the jobs of a parent is to guide your child until they can make their own decisions, with the hope that they’ll know morals and will be able to navigate the world on their own. your job is of course to love your child, but it’s not very loving to diminish their capabilities and keep them away from difficulties which will help them grow into who they’re meant to be.

i work with children, and one of the big things this year was “do not hit.” it’s not fair for me to allow a child to hit another child, because that is hurting the other child who is just as valuable and important as this child, and it’s not fair to the hitting child to never learn boundaries. they can learn not to hit from a responsible adult, who will explain and gently enforce boundaries, or they could potentially learn not to hit from another child, who beats the crap out of them for hitting. it’s pretty much a no-brainer.

and to those who think children can make their own decisions and navigate the world on their own at a young age — it’s not kind to make a child raise themselves. it’s not fair. they’re allowed to be children and make mistakes and they don’t need to be responsible for figuring out morality and coping mechanisms while also somehow learning to tie their shoes. adults have a hard enough time with our philosophy. you want to put that on a kid?

anyhow this is my response to the microcosm of batfam fanfic and the social response of the young to adult authority, thanks for coming to my TED talk

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tgmsunmontue · 2 days

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Where do I know you from? 3/?

Hangster crackfic. There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE PART TWO

PART THREE

Rooster Nine arrives in chef whites, which he guesses answers the question of what he does for a job, although he’s getting asked a whole raft of questions by Three and Five.

“What are you two writing down?”

“Well, every Bradley here has a Jake in their Universe. I think we’re meant to find you yours.”

“We don’t need to find him. I know where he is.”

“You’ve met him already?”

Jake stares at them both.

“Considering you’re both meant to be super smart, you’re thick as bricks. I recognized you all,” Jake says, waving his hand at the accumulating Roosters, who seem to be arriving at an even faster rate. “Of course I’ve met him. I’ve saved his life. We see each other nearly every day.”

Rooster Three and Five exchange looks.

“And you’re not together with him?” Rooster Five asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow and of course he looks exactly like Rooster, but it’s not him and Jake scowls.

“I think I’d know,” Jake snaps.

“Maybe that’s why we’re here. To get them together. Me and my Jake had to swap bodies before we figured our shit out.”

“It’s as good a theory as any,” Rooster Three concedes and Jake pulls a face.

“I don’t need alternate versions of my… work colleague, trying to hook me up with him,” Jake says, and then wonders if that even made sense.

“Bob would probably know.”

Jake is about to ask why Bob would have any idea about this kind of thing but the door is swinging open and he knows it’s going to be yet another Rooster.

“Oh wow… what is going on here. It’s like there’s a rip in time and space and only I can use it. This is super weird. Hey Jake…”

The way he greets Jake and says Jake’s name is syrupy warm and a few of the other Roosters snort in amusement. Rooster Ten is stepping close and giving him a hug, brushing a kiss across his cheek and Jake pulls back.

“What the fuck man. I don’t know you.”

“Bet you want to though.”

“No. Apparently his Bradley is just a work colleague.”

Nearly every Rooster in the close vicinity scoffs and this many Bradshaw’s are really starting to get on his nerves. Rooster Ten rests his hands on his shoulders, massages them and as nice as it might feel Jake is not having it.

“Get your hands off me.”

Immediately Rooster Ten is backing away, hands up in easy supplication, although his eyebrow is quirked in that same challenging way Rooster has and he has to resist the urge to punch it off and he needs to calm down and deescalate the situation. He grits his teeth.

“Surely your Jake wouldn’t want you, uh, touching another Jake.”

“Oh, I know for a fact that he’d be more than okay with this. We have discussed this fantasy in detail.”

Jake doesn’t even know how to begin addressing that, just turns toward Three and Five, because despite their nerding-out over the science they haven’t tried to hit on him. Other then Three giving him a wink, which compared to the other shit happening is completely benign. Still, Rooster Ten doesn’t seem too put-off, settles in the chair next to Jake and just watches, accepts the beer from Rooster Six.

Rooster Ten went to USNA. He’s the first Rooster here who went to USNA and Jake wonders if that’s what makes him more confident. Except all of the Roosters are confident in their own ways. Of course, that’s when Rooster Eleven arrives, and he looks like he’s wearing body paint, he doesn’t have the same bulk as some of the others, but he’s still well muscled. Jake can tell under the body-paint-esque workout attire that Rooster Eleven is wearing.

Rooster Ten reaches over and closes his jaw, dabs at the corner of Jake’s mouth with a napkin.

�� “Just a work colleague huh?” Rooster Ten murmurs, and Jake gives him the finger.

“What do you do?” Rooster Three asks the new arrival.

“I’m a dance teacher. Are you documenting all this?”

“For science,” Rooster Three and Five answer and Rooster Eleven just nods, shrugs his shoulders easily. He seems very relaxed.

“And is Tom Kazansky alive or dead…”

“Dead… what kind of question is that?”

“We’re just trying to figure out all the potential pivot points of the timelines. So is Maverick with Penny in your Universe then?”

“No. He’s with Beau.”

“Who?”

“Ah, Admiral Simpson.”

Jake is glad he isn’t the only one spitting their drink out in surprise.

PART FOUR

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfic #where do I know you from?

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sturniolo-rat · 13 hours

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✨Chris Sturniolo Headcanons✨

For Black Girls✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

💋 Chris loves black girls

I’m sorry but in my head Chris prefers black girls. Like Atlanta Georgia black girls… thick, dark, dressed to the nines, hair done, acrylic nails 💅🏽💅🏾💅🏿absolute fucking queens. Like I don’t describe Y/N in any way but best believe if it’s a Chris fic she’s black to me.

💋 He sees fucking hates racists

This doesn’t actually need to be said but I figured We’d get this out of the way first. Chris definitely listens to you when you talk about race issues so he knows all about micro aggressions. He always notices them and stands up for you every time. “Baby, if anyone says that shit to you again I’m gonna catch an assault charge!”

💋 He owns silk sheets

This man most definitely would buy a full set of silk sheets after you sleep over his house for the first time and he notices you brought your own satin/silk pillowcase. He doesn’t realize it’s for your hair until he surprises you with them the next time you sleep over and you tell him. “Oh, I just thought you were being bougie.” Then he buys more sets of them because he decides to throw away all his cotton sheets.

💋 He learns your hair care routine

Chris is the only white person you trust to touch your hair. He makes taking care of your hair into a really loving and intimate experience. If you’re in the bath he adds epsom salts, sets up candles, and does a bunch of stuff to set the mood. “You have any music requests, Mama? If not I’m probably just gonna put on the sexy time playlist.” He sits out side of the bath and takes his time washing and conditioning your hair making sure to detangle and section it the way you taught him. He does the same thing when you’re in the shower except he stops occasionally to pull you close and feel you up. “Come here, Baby. You’re so fuckin’ pretty and you smell so nice and clean. I just can’t resist.”

💋 He sits with you when you’re getting your hair braided and brings you snacks

Before your appointment he packs you a lunch bag full of snacks for the both of you because of course he’s coming with you. “Alright, Baby, we’ve got Doritos, McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and a shit ton of candy. We’re all set to go.” If you think he’s not gonna come when you’re gonna be in the chair unable to get away from his yapping you are sorely mistaken. He’s always keeping everyone entertained and happy. “What’s up ladies! You have any tea for me today.” It’s just him feeding you snacks and having silly conversations with you and the person doing your hair. If you ever show up to your appointment without him everyone misses him.

💋 He pays for your acrylics

He insists on giving you the money every two weeks because he’s just “helping to keep his princess feeling pretty” He also likes to help you figure out designs and themes nails. He sends you random texts with nail inspo all the time. “I know a zoo theme seems extra, but let me cook, Mama!” I’m certain that he makes you get a C for Chris on one of your nails every time you get new set. This probably isn’t exclusive to black girls but like as a black person who gets their nails done I like to go all out on the designs and shit gets expensive.

💋 You convince him to wear a durag

He only agrees to do it one time in the house. You use the situation to teach him its use and significance in black hair care. It takes him a few tries and you have to demonstrate it a lot but eventually he is able to put it on correctly and he looks super cute. Not cute in a “this is a good look for you” kind of way, but in an aww “the little white boy is engaging in cultural appreciation” type of way. “I think if anyone saw me like this I would get cancelled.”

Taglist

Masterlist

Idk if people put their tag lists on headcanon posts??? Pls advise

@daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @rafecameronsbitch @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @chrattstromboli @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs @pepsicolapussy333 @maddyslifesstuff @dogblof @honeymoonxxz @xplr-sturns-e-m @hayhjelmstad15

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yuzurujenn · 2 days

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2024.02.29 Yuzuru Hanyu, World Figure Skating magazine 100th issue

Now, as a famous figure skater, what range does he aim for as a performer? A long interview with Yuzuru Hanyu who just finished his "RE_PRAY" Saga performance!

Yuzuru Hanyu, a figure skater who has won two consecutive Olympic Games championships and achieved a Super Grand Slam has achieved many great achievements. In July 2022, Hanyu held a press conference to express his decision to retire from competition and enter his professional career. Since then, he has successively held solo performances in which he skated the entire show, the first Tokyo Dome performance in the history of figure skating, a performance full of requiem and prayer, and his first tour, showing the world his versatile and active figure. The figure skating performance that Hanyu puts his soul into is opening up a new dimension of figure skating with specifications that far exceed expectations. Yuzuru Hanyu, who continues to challenge himself as an athlete, once again talked about his sincere thoughts on figure skating.

[My mission as a figure skater]

Q: On the occasion of the 100th issue of "World Figure Skating" magazine, we are very honoured to invite Yuzuru Hanyu for an interview. This magazine was founded in December 1999, and Hanyu probably started his figure skating journey at the same time.

Hanyu: I started skating around 1999. I started skating when I was 4 years old, around the summer of 1999. Wow~I miss it so much! I have the first issue of this series of magazine. The cover at that time was Michelle Kwan, and the back cover was Yagudin. I miss that Piano costume (of Yagudin's) very much. And (after turning the page) wow ~ Plushenko! I loved figure skating at that time. Oh, and Timothy (Goebel).

Q: That was when you first started skating. What did you like about the skaters of that era?

Hanyu: The players at that time had very distinct personalities. Although I like figure skating very much, when I was a child, I only watched the athletes (performances) that I really liked and was interested in, so at that time I only watched Plushenko, Yagudin, Honda (Takeshi), and occasionally Timothy. In a sense, I just look at the figure skaters that I like. The top players of that generation all have their own unique personalities that make them shine. Although they all have their own unique characteristics, they have different styles, different ways of expression, and extremely outstanding personalities. In this sense, I still like that era very much. That is also the generation I admire most.

Q: I see. Hanyu: I first started getting into figure skating, not because I had a figure skater that I admired and thought, “I want to be like that,” but because I just wanted to follow my sister and do the same thing as her, so from a certain point of view, my initial contact was not with figure skating. But when I watched the Olympics, those athletes made me think for the first time, "I want to be like that." Although their personalities are very strong, they are not offensive and they are really skating in their own pure way.

Q: What started out as a pure dream has led you to revolutionize the sport of figure skating.

Hanyu: Where, where?

Q: In the meantime, you continue to be at the forefront of figure skating. First of all, please allow me to ask you about the "notte stellata" performance held in March. It can be said that Hanyu has been a symbol of revival after the Great East Japan Earthquake, but this year, due to the Noto Peninsula earthquake that occurred at the beginning of the year, I think this performance will become even more meaningful.

Hanyu: Please allow me to express my condolences to the victims. Although I have lived for 29 years, in recent days, I have once again realized that Japan is a place that frequently encounter disasters. There are many natural disasters in Japan. In addition to earthquakes, there are also many natural disasters such as heavy rains. This is probably the fate of living in Japan. However, this also made me feel again that injecting prayers for various natural disasters into my figure skating and skating with full prayers is probably my mission in this era.

Q: Hanyu’s love for his hometown, Tohoku, really runs through most of your figure skating career.

Hanyu: I think many people living in Japan have personally experienced the tremors of the Great East Japan Earthquake, but I myself did not witness the tsunami. I have also thought about what position I should stand in relation to this disaster. Even so, I continued to figure skate. When I was sixteen or seventeen years old, especially during the season after the Great East Japan Earthquake, I attracted everyone's attention. Since then, I have been conveying a lot of information including my experience in the disaster. In this process, Yuzuru Hanyu and the Great East Japan Earthquake gradually became inseparable. So, both in my competitive life and in my current professional activities, I feel like I have to keep that earthquake in my mind. The experience of that earthquake is central to my life experience. For example, when I win a gold medal or achieve good results, the first thing that comes to my mind is the smiles of people in my hometown. I know that I have contributed my own strength to my hometown. Therefore, including "notte stellata", I want to continue to do various activities through skating (to continue to contribute).

[Why "ICE STORY"]

Q: Since turning professional, you held your first solo ice performance "Prologue" from November to December 2022, and then held the Tokyo Dome performance "GIFT" in February 2023, and will hold the "RE_PRAY" tour as the second part of ICE STORY from the autumn of 2023. Can you tell us why you want to present figure skating in the form of a story?

Hanyu: When I was skating as a kid, I wanted to tell stories in the show. And I also like to create and imagine stories. Everything originates from this. If a program can present a story, will everyone see any difference in the various elements presented in the program? This has always been the core of what I want to express. How to describe this - during the competitive period, I will get an objective result after the game. But there are exceptions, such as the 2014 Cup of China. It was because of that collision that the "Phantom of the Opera" was created at that time, and it was also because of that the “Phantom of the Opera” in the Grand Prix Finals was created. The story that I felt through the show became completely different. The story of the show itself has not changed much, but from the viewer's perspective, with the superposition of various factors, the show looks and feels completely different. This is what I felt inside when skating this program. I've created a lot of shows so far, but if I packed them all into one big story now, I think it would look completely different. During the competitive period, I will get results, be reported by various media and other additional circumstances, but this time I want to tell a bigger story so that everyone can see different ways of life and gain different insights through the program. This is my original intention of creating ICE STORY.

Q: Is this affected by the transition from a competitive player to a professional player?

Hanyu: As I transitioned from a competitive skater to a professional skater, the position of figure skating in my heart has also changed a lot. During my competitive days, I started out thinking about winning for myself. My motivation also comes from the fact that if I can skate well, people around me will be happy about it. I think it may be this sense of accomplishment and the joy of receiving praise that keeps me motivated and engaged in figure skating to this day. Later, due to experiences such as earthquakes, I no longer only wanted to win for myself, but also began to want to win for more people. Now that I have left the competitive scene and become a professional skater, winning or losing itself no longer exists. I think in my mind, figure skating has become "wanting to do something for others." I hope my figure skating can become a part of everyone's life. On the basis of presenting figure skating like this, I hope to convey certain information to everyone more concretely in the story.

Q: So, is this a story about Yuzuru Hanyu?

Hanyu: No, no, no, there are all kinds of lives, and we exist in all kinds of life. If we want to write, each of our lives can be written into a story. Everyone will be moved by various stories, and also feel sad and painful for them. Under such circumstances, I have distilled and presented a large part of figure skating like this. I think "Yuzuru Hanyu's story" exists in each of you to some extent. So, from everyone’s perspective, the perception of my show will also change. But I actually don’t just want to present my own story, because everyone has their own story in their life. I want to be a small piece of everyone's life story. I often think so.

[Study body language to present new expressions]

Q: In order to present new expressions, you are currently expanding your expression methods through new body language such as dance, imaging technology, and writing scripts in your own words. Do you think your figure skating has undergone a qualitative change as a result?

Hanyu: I originally thought that by creating an ice performance with the specifications of "GIFT", I had already expressed everything I wanted to express, but I had to create "RE_PRAY" immediately. I really tried my best to do what I could. Everything that I know was used. (Laughs) That’s why I have to learn more.

For myself, I want to create more words, show more areas of dance, and broaden the range of my movements. And I think in order for professionals in every field to think that I'm doing a good job at this, I have to keep working hard.

I am currently struggling with my lack of knowledge when it comes to technique in dance and performance. I think I hit the wall more often than people think. In terms of expressing and presenting through words, I am not a liberal arts major, and my major in university was not written language. When it comes to dance, I have not always studied ballet or hip-hop. Everything I try is my own style, but I want to work hard for it and stand on the stage as a professional.

As a professional figure skater, I have the performance skills, mentality and expertise that I have developed over the past 25 years. I wanted to apply these and connect them to discourse and dance. At present, I am in a state of exploration. I have explored a lot, but I cannot integrate these explorations into words. My brain is about to explode. I am currently in a state of being exposed to all kinds of new things and trying to absorb them.

Q: We are deeply impressed by your production integration capabilities in "RE_PRAY" stage art. The "save data is damaged" at the end of the first half is really shocking, and how the story is unfolded from there. This kind of narrative ability really seems to be from the hands of a professional screenwriter.

Hanyu: You're welcome, that part is very dark, right? (laughs)

Q: If you receive an invitation to make a movie, would you be interested?

Hanyu: No, I don’t think so. I don’t think so at all (laughs). For me, everything I do is for figure skating. I want to learn various things for figure skating, and I think it will help deepen my figure skating. Whether it is writing scripts or creating and organising, I need to master more expression skills and learn more things.

Q: I think coming up with ideas is also a challenge. "RE_PRAY" is based on the theme of the game world, isn’t it?

Hanyu: It was after the end of "GIFT", or during the "Fantasy on Ice" ice show to be precise, that I started thinking about the next ice show. During the planning process, the staff learned that a certain venue can be rented during a certain period, so we have to start creating new ice shows quickly. I really wanted to continue using the story format, so I had to start writing (laughs).

When I was very worried about "what should I do?", I suddenly realized that my origin is games. Therefore, when I started writing the story, I had already decided to use the music of the 8 BIT series, and the characters would be pixellated villains, and using pixellated style to build a worldview of the game world.

Not everyone is familiar with games, so I thought a lot about how to convey the worldview that I wanted to express to the audience. At the same time, I had complete trust in MIKIKO-sensei, and I believed she would find a way. MIKIKO-sensei also said to me, "You can go as deep into your creation as you want," so I was able to make a breakthrough and write this story.

Of course, as the production director, I completed almost all of the performance arrangements and stories myself, but I also have complete trust in the production team, and they really devoted themselves to the production of this ice show. I first created what I wanted to do, but I couldn't just think about my own self-satisfaction. In order to let everyone feel and understand the story, I worked with the staff together to create the ice show. This is how it felt like. To be honest, I didn’t feel that whatever I chose to do would definitely go well. I just felt that because everyone worked together, we were able to create a good work.

Q: There are new discoveries every time you perform. Hanyu-senshu's expressions seemed to be different between the Saitama performance and the Saga performance.

Hanyu: Really? I just threw myself into it regardless. But I feel like I have more energy now than when I was in competitive era. But still, my physical strength reached its limit at the end of the first half, and at that time I thought, "What am I doing? I'm so stupid…" (laughing)

[The unforgettable scenes]

Q: With the launch of new programs, your previous programs have also been re-interpreted and integrated into the ice performance story. During this process, I think you have also reviewed your competitive career. So what scene is etched in your mind when you look back now?

Hanyu: The first one should be the 2004 All-Japan Novice (Novice B = Champion). I was very impressed with my first All-Japan Novice win. First of all, this is my first time to participate in an All-Japan competition. Although there were training camps to discover new athletes and regional competitions before this, and I also had the opportunity to meet and get to know many different athletes, I am still new to the All-Japan competition. The number of people coming to watch and the number of referees are also different from before. To me, my performance was perfect under the circumstances and I ended up winning the event and scoring more than I thought I would. The buzz of excitement at that moment, the cheers of "Oh~" from the audience, and the feeling when I jumped 2A beautifully, it was really… I think that was my greatest success experience. It is no exaggeration to say that that success made me love figure skating even more. Then I got a little too confident because of that victory and got carried away. (Laughs) But then the ice rink was damaged in the earthquake, which pained me very much. After that, it was a dark time that I didn’t want to think about…

After that, the most important thing for me was Nice (2012 World Championships in Nice = 3rd place). When I did the free skate in Nice, it was the first time I had the opportunity to really feel like I was being supported. Before that, all I had been thinking was, "After all, I'm the one skating on the rink." In the past, I have always believed that the key to winning a game lies in whether I work hard and whether I can display my true strength on the field. But in Nice, I felt for the first time the power of everyone’s support for me and the power of the staff who supported me. This power was reflected in my figure skating. I realized that the support and assistance I received was not something I could take for granted. So that was a very important moment for me. Q: Sorry to interrupt you, but this competition in Nice is also the first time you have appeared on the cover of our magazine.

Hanyu: (Holding the 53rd issue in his hand) Ah~ I was so young back then. Nice is the origin after all. That was really the kind of figure skating that could only be shown at that time. I can no longer reproduce "RoJu" exactly as it was at that time, but this is also the fun part of figure skating.

Q: What about after Nice?

Hanyu: Hmm… Actually, it’s not the Olympics period that is deeply etched in my mind. The most impressive thing after this was the Helsinki World Championships (2017 Helsinki World Championships = Champion). Even now, when I watch the scenes, hear the cheers, and recall my state of mind at that time, as well as the completion of the program at that time, I am still very excited and have tears in my eyes. It was a really difficult season for me. The short program didn't go very well, and I had some jumps that I never succeeded in. Contrary to the cheers in the venue at that time, there was a complete quiet space in my heart… I feel that such a special feeling has surpassed figure skating and has become a very special space and time in my life. I now feel that the World Championships in Helsinki are more important to me than the Olympic Games.

Q: Was that the moment when you felt connected to everything?

Hanyu: Yeah, yeah. That's what I need most… The space I want to stay in most, the most joyful moment in my life, is that moment. I want to cherish moments like that, that’s what I’m thinking now.

[I still want to get better]

Q: Having enjoyed your current professional activities, I am reminded of some of the words you said in interviews many years ago during your competition days that connect to the present. So what is this unwavering core of yours?

Hanyu: That would be, I still want to get better. The root of my desire to be better, to be stronger, and to continue to challenge myself is that I want to be praised, and I want everyone to think that I'm doing a good job.

In addition, in my own words now, I hope it can be an opportunity for everyone to have some sort of emotion. There are many factors involved in this, and these factors become more numerous as we age. So it’s impossible to make a simple generalization, but what is always consistent to me is my determination to get better. I want to become better, stronger and more capable to present to everyone the things I want to express and create. This has never changed.

Q: Previously, Hanyu-senshu mentioned in an interview that Mr. Nomura Mansai has always been at his peak. Mr. Hanyu, you yourself too, despite the passage of time, you have always kept the audience looking forward to it. I think that in order to achieve this, you have also undergone many changes in your heart, right?

Hanyu: Indeed. The kyogen that Mr. Mansai engages in is a bit difficult to describe for people who love traditional arts. I think in their eyes it belongs to the genre of folk art. In the field of kabuki, there are also kabuki based on game themes, and Mr. Mansai also uses various techniques to try to launch modern kyogen and Noh dramas that are completely different from the past. Some viewers are looking forward to this. For those who value tradition, or those who simply want to see a Noh play at a Noh theatre, this performance may seem a bit offbeat.

But in a sense, from my perspective, this alternative is the charm of "Nomura Mansai". The modern Nomura Mansai has such a unique quality. He not only appears in TV series, but also has a multi-field acting career. In my opinion, maintaining such style all the time is the unique charm of Mr. Mansai.

I believe that for the figure skating world, "Yuzuru Hanyu" must also be a very different existence. But precisely because of this uniqueness, those viewers who have always followed figure skating competitions and like the Yuzuru Hanyu in the history of figure skating will think, "Ah, figure skating can still be expressed in this way." Maybe some people may also think, "No, I still hope he skates more traditionally." Everyone has various opinions and ideas.

But at the end of the day, I feel like figure skating alone cannot fully express everything I want to express to everyone. Mr. Mansai was born into a family where Kyogen was passed down from generation to generation, but he loved rock music and even formed a band, which was later reflected in his Kyogen. So for me, I want to express myself through figure skating, but figure skating alone is not enough.

In other words, the so-called form is still figure skating, but now with imaging technology, various technologies, stage settings, etc. can be completely separated from the ice. This is especially obvious in "RE_PRAY". Extend various expressions in silence. Some people may say, is this still figure skating? but I feel that integrating everything I want to express into figure skating is a natural and suitable way for me at the moment.

So, I think this is probably the "Yuzuru Hanyu" in everyone's mind. Although my inner thoughts have changed and what I want to express has also changed, the reason why people feel that "it's still Yuzuru Hanyu" is because what I want to pursue has not changed from the competitive days.

As a person, what I present from my soul is always the same and has never changed. Therefore, although my thoughts continue to change, in everyone's eyes I remained the same. I place what I want to express on figure skating. Now, I am learning various things and getting in touch with things in various fields. I want to continue to improve myself. This is because I feel that figure skating alone is no longer enough to meet my needs for expression in figure skating. However, it is still difficult for me to describe in detail what is needed.

Q: We all enjoy watching Hanyu’s performances. Hanyu: I’m very happy that everyone likes to watch it. It’s not easy to perform though.

Q: Through various channels such as your YouTube channel, TV broadcasts, live viewing, and online broadcasts, your performances will be widely disseminated to various places.

Hanyu: Got it. As a Japanese, Tohoku and Sendai person, I think there is a unique rhythm cultivated by the culture of this land and water in my heart. This should also be reflected in my figure skating performances. I will continue to hone myself so that everyone can feel the charm of my performance when it is translated into English language or taken as a photo. At the same time, I cherish and am full of pride for figure skating as a stage for my expression.

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Editor’s Note: Yuzuru Hanyu’s words are full of spirit to constantly expand figure skating and update the concept of figure skating. Every detail in the interview reflects his deep affection for figure skating. Carrying the fate of the chosen one, he moves forward tenaciously, peacefully, and firmly. —There is no doubt that he will continue to promote the development and deepening of figure skating.

(End of full text· Interview/WFS Editorial Department)

Credits: https://weibo.com/5437806211/OaN8SCn0A

Info: https://worldfigureskating-web.jp/news/6196/ BTS: https://worldfigureskating-web.jp/news/6632/2/

#羽生結弦 #yuzuru hanyu #hanyu yuzuru #figure skating #translation #interview

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