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dinas-a-bird · 8 months

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For the Love of the Game

Pairing: soccer!Ellie Williams x soccer!fem!reader

Warnings: SFW, angst with a happy/hopeful ending, mean ellie and reader, Arsenal woso au, rivalry, hostility, first kiss, cursing, use of y/n

Summary: As a new sign on the Arsenal squad you seem to click with everyone, except the defender Ellie Williams. or i couldnt find what I wanted to read so I wrote it instead

Word Count: 4,005

A/N: this is my longest piece of writing yet and also probably my favorite. I kept the soccer terms to a minimum because I know they are difficult to understand if you've never played the sport. I've been meaning to write a woso au fic for quite some time mainly because i'm a huge fan of soccer and have played it my entire life, so i'm supper happy I finally got around to this. Sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

quick sidebar: I am so upset about Australia not making it to the WWC finals.

Pt 2: here

You sat in the locker room, lacing up your cleats, your mind racing with anticipation for the upcoming training session. Soccer was your passion, your lifeblood, and being a new sign on the Arsenal team was both a dream come true and a challenge you welcomed with open arms. The energy in the room was a mix of excitement and seriousness, as your new teammates chatted and laughed, sharing stories and trading banter.

Katie, a fellow teammate, leaned over with a playful grin. "You ready to kick some ass on the field today, y/n?"

You grinned back, your eyes shining with determination. "You know it, McCabe. Ready to show 'em what I'm made of."

As the training session began, you threw yourself into the drills, your love for the game evident in every sprint, every pass, every shot on goal. It was a fierce battle, each player giving her all, striving for excellence. Amid the sweat and shouts, there was a particular presence that caught your attention—Ellie Williams. The enigmatic American player was a force to be reckoned with, known for her skill and her no-nonsense attitude. Your interactions had always been colored with a hint of hostility and rivalry, Williams sharp wit and biting remarks keeping you on your toes.

"Nice touch, y/n!" Leah Williamson’s encouragement broke through your concentration, and she sent a quick nod and smile in your direction.

After the grueling training session, you followed the team into the locker room. The energy had shifted, the air filled with exhaustion and accomplishment. You were quick to shed your gear, peeling off your sweaty kit, replacing it with a band tee and ripped jeans. As you looked around, you caught Williams' gaze—surprisingly not one of antagonism, but something different, harder to define.

"Like what you see, Williams?" Your playful remark caught Ellie off guard, and a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you moved toward your locker. You could practically feel Ellie's eyes on you as you changed, a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite place apparent on her face.

The banter continued as you and your teammates made plans for drinks later that evening. The idea of spending time together outside of the pitch was new, a tentative step toward forming friendships beyond the pitch. The mention of Williams' not wanting to go to yet another team bonding session didn't escape your notice, a reminder of your ongoing rivalry and tension.

As the evening approached, you found yourself in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The exchange with Ellie in the locker room had been different, a crack in the armor she had always presented. But you were cautious, unsure of what it all meant. Your heart raced as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the night ahead. You chose an outfit that felt comfortable yet confident—black trousers and a light pink button-up, French-tucked for a touch of casual elegance.

Your phone chimed, and you picked it up to see a text from Leah. "I'm outside ready to bring you to team drinks dummy." You chuckled, sending a quick response that you were on your way. Soon enough, you found yourself in Leah's car, driving towards the nearby pub where the team was gathering for drinks and bonding.

The pub was alive with the chatter and laughter of your teammates as you entered. You greeted the girls and grabbed a drink before sitting down next to Leah, who gave you a knowing look. "You think Ellie’s actually going to come?" Leah whispered, her eyes glancing over to the entrance.

"Dunno, don't really care to be honest," You replied with a shrug. "She's been a right twat for as long as she's known me."

Leah hummed in acknowledgment, and the two of you settled into the lively atmosphere. Your eyes wandered over the group, spotting Ellie’s absence. You couldn't help but wonder if the tension between you had kept her away.

After a while, your impatience grew, and you checked your watch. "Damn, she really didn't want to come," you muttered under your breath, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment. You leaned back in your seat, your mind lost in your thoughts.

Leah noticed your mood shift and rubbed your shoulder gently. "What's wrong, y/n/n?"

You sighed, a hint of frustration in your voice. "Nothing, just thought maybe she'd actually show up for once."

As the minutes ticked by, your frustration turned into resignation. You finished your drink and decided to get another one. "I'm going to get another drink," you announced to the group, receiving nods of acknowledgment before making your way to the bar.

"One whiskey, on the rocks, please," you ordered, your tone weary. You leaned against the bar, waiting for your drink and watching the team engage in playful conversations. Your mind drifted, thinking about the complicated relationship you had with Ellie Williamson.

The bartender quickly served your drink, and you took a slow sip, the cool liquid offering a momentary distraction from your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder why Ellie’s presence or in this case lack thereof, affected you so much.

As you continued to observe the team, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a text from Leah, asking if you were okay. You smiled faintly and texted back, "Yeah, just needed a breather. Don't worry, I'm good."

With your drink in hand, you found an empty stool at the bar and settled in. You watched as the team's laughter filled the pub. You took another sip of your drink, feeling a mix of emotions bubbling within you.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone sat down next to you until you heard a familiar voice. "Whatcha doing over here, mate?" Caitlin Foord's voice broke through your reverie.

You looked up, a surprised smile forming on your lips. "Hey, just needed another drink, that's all."

Caitlin chuckled, giving you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Well, the teams missing you, might wanna head back over soon."

You couldn't help but appreciate Caitlin's attempt at lightening the mood. You finished your drink and thanked the bartender, making your way back to the group. As you approached, Katie McCabe greeted you with a big smile. "Look who finally decided to rejoin us!"

Your lips twitched into a smile as you took a seat among your teammates. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, and you found yourself easing into the conversation. You exchanged playful banter with the girls, your guard slowly lowering as the evening progressed.

Ellie’s absence was no longer a looming presence in your mind. Instead, you found yourself immersed in laughter and conversation with the team. It was as if, for a brief moment, the rivalry and tension between you and Williams never existed.

As the night wore on, you glanced at your watch, realizing it was getting late. You excused yourself from the group, giving everyone hugs and promising to see them soon.

Outside the pub, you hailed a taxi with more success than the previous nights. You settled into the back seat, feeling contentment wash over you. The evening had been unexpectedly enjoyable, a welcome break from the usual tension.

When you arrived home, you thanked the driver and made your way to your apartment. You kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch, a small smile playing on your lips.

The events of the evening continued to replay in your mind as you lay on the couch. The unexpected sense of belonging with your teammates had provided a refreshing change from the usual tension with Ellie Williams.

As the days passed, your thoughts kept drifting back to that night at the pub. You found yourself analyzing every interaction, every word spoken between you and your teammates, including the moments when Ellie’s absence was conspicuous.

Training sessions were business as usual, the banter and drills had become familiar over time. You couldn't deny that a part of you was secretly hoping for another chance to interact one-on-one with Ellie, even if it meant more of your usual back-and-forth.

One evening, after a rigorous training session, you were walking to your car when you noticed Ellie leaning against it. You tensed involuntarily, your heart rate increasing as your palms grew slightly clammy. "What do you want, Williams?" You asked, your voice laced with a mixture of defiance and caution.

Ellie straightened up and crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "Just making sure you're not slacking off on your game, y/l/n," she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You raised an eyebrow, annoyance and amusement flickering in your eyes. "Trust me, you're not the one I need to prove anything to."

Ellie’s gaze held yours for a moment before she seemed to relent, her posture relaxing slightly. "Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable. I'm not here to make friends."

You let out a rueful chuckle. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

As the weeks went by, you and Ellie continued your dance of hostility, your interactions marked by barbed remarks and wary glances.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice, You found yourself sitting alone in the locker room, lost in thought. You were startled when the door opened, and Ellie walked in, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

"What do you want, Williams?" You said, your tone a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

Ellie hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice lacking its usual bite. "Look, I may not like you, but I respect your dedication to the game. You're a damn good player, and you've earned your place on this team."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It wasn't the response you had expected. "Thanks, I guess."

Ellie’s gaze held yours, her usually confident demeanor replaced by a vulnerability that caught you off guard. "I've had to fight tooth and nail to get where I am, and I won't let anyone make me doubt myself. Not even you."

You nod your head slowly. "I get it. We all have our battles."

There was a pause before Ellie spoke again, her voice softer this time. "Look, y/l/n, I'm not saying we're suddenly going to be best buddies or anything. But maybe... maybe we can find a way to coexist without tearing each other apart. For the team sakes if anything."

You studied Ellie’s face, seeing a sincerity that was unexpected. For the first time, you allowed yourself to truly consider the possibility of a truce between the two of you. "Yeah, maybe we can." The tension in the room seemed to ease slightly, replaced by a tentative understanding.

However, the fragile truce you had established was put to the test during an Arsenal v Arsenal scrimmage. The game was intense, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for victory. As the clock ticked down and the score remained tied, the pressure mounted.

You found yourself being subbed onto the pitch after halftime, your heart pounding as you chased after the ball. You maneuvered past defenders with finesse, your focus on the goal. Just as you were about to take the shot, Ellie’s foot came out of nowhere, intercepting the ball and sending it in a different direction.

"Fancy move, y/l/n, but you'll have to do better than that," Ellie’s voice taunted from behind you.

Your frustration flared, and you couldn't hold back your retort. "Maybe I would if someone didn't think they were the queen of the fucking pitch."

The game continued with both sides giving it their all. The tension on the pitch was thick, mirroring the tension that still lingered between you and Ellie. As the match entered the final minutes, you found yourself facing off against Ellie near the goal. The ball was within reach, victory hanging in the balance.

You dribbled past Ellie, your determination fueling your every move. You took the shot, the ball sailing towards the goal. But Ellie was there, deflecting the shot with a well-timed block. The whistle blew, signaling the end of the scrimmage with a draw.

As the team regrouped in the locker room, your frustration lingered. You couldn't shake the feeling that the rivalry with Ellie had affected your performance. You sat alone in front of your cubby, your thoughts a jumble of emotions.

Ellie approached, her expression unreadable. "You played well out there. But you've got to learn not to let your emotions get the best of you."

Your temper flared, the familiar resentment bubbling up. "Oh, I'm sorry if I don't have years of experience in keeping my cool like you."

Ellie’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed as though you were on the brink of another confrontation. But then, unexpectedly, Ellie sighed. "Look, I'm not saying this to be nice, but I know you're a damn good player, anybody with a decent set of eyes can see it. You just need to channel that fire in the right direction."

You looked at Ellie, surprised by the genuine advice. It was a side of her that you rarely saw—the vulnerability beneath the layers of hostility. "Thanks," you muttered, your pride making it difficult to fully acknowledge the concession.

Ellie nodded, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she turned and walked away. The encounter left you with a mix of conflicting emotions. Maybe, there was more to your rivalry than you had initially thought.

Weeks turned into months, and you and Ellie continued to navigate the delicate balance between rivalry and mutual respect. Your interactions became less charged, your exchanges more civil. Training sessions saw fewer verbal jabs and more focused drills.

And then, one day, it happened. It was a routine practice, but something was different. You found yourself looking at Ellie in a new light, noticing the subtle nuances in her expressions and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, even if it was rare.

During a break, as you were catching your breath, Ellie approached you. "Not bad out there today."

Your heart raced, your nerves betraying you. "Thanks, Williams."

Ellie hesitated for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer than usual. "You know, sometimes it's okay to acknowledge your strengths. It doesn't make you any less of a competitor."

You met Ellie’s gaze, seeing a glimmer of something more in her eyes. You felt a connection, a shared understanding that ran deeper than your rivalry. In that moment, you realized that you were more alike than you had ever wanted to admit.

As you both stood there, the tension between you had shifted. It was as if a new chapter had begun, one that held the promise of something beyond the animosity you had known. And in that small shift, you saw a glimpse of the possibility for a different kind of connection—one that went beyond the field, beyond the rivalry, and into uncharted territory.

The weeks that followed saw a gradual evolution in you and Ellie’s relationship. You both continued to challenge each other on the pitch, but there were moments of unexpected friendliness that seemed to catch you both off guard.

During a particularly intense training session, you found yourself locked in a one-on-one with Ellie. Her movements were precise and calculated. As you managed to get past Ellie and score a goal, you couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph.

Ellie’s expression was a mix of frustration and begrudging admiration. "Not bad. Looks like you've been working on your footwork."

You caught your breath, your heart racing from the exertion. "Well, someone has to score goals for the team."

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at her lips. "Don't get too cocky. This was just practice."

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Ellies presence. You couldn't ignore the way your heart raced whenever Ellie was near or the moments when your gazes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary.

One evening, after another successful game, the team decided to go out for a celebratory dinner. You found yourself sitting across from Ellie at the restaurant, your interactions surprisingly easy. You traded stories and laughs, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way Ellie’s sharp wit and dry humor had you smiling genuinely.

As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, leaving you and Ellie alone at the table. The atmosphere had shifted from hostility to something more complex, and you found yourself wanting to explore it further.

"You know, we've come a long way from where we started," You said, your voice tinged with both curiosity and vulnerability.

Ellie nodded, her expression more thoughtful than usual. "Yeah, I guess we have."

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if we weren't rivals. If we could actually get along."

Ellie’s gaze held yours, her eyes searching for something. "It's not that simple, y/n. We've got history."

You nodded, understanding the truth in Ellie’s words. "I know. But maybe we could start over. Put the rivalry behind us."

Ellie’s guard seemed to momentarily waver, revealing a glimpse of uncertainty. "And why would we do that?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you voiced what had been lingering in your mind. "Because I think there's more to you than the tough exterior you show the world, Ellie. And I think we could actually be friends."

Ellie’s expression was that of surprise. For a moment, you held your breath, unsure of how Ellie would respond.

"You've got a lot of nerve, y/l/n," Ellie finally said, her tone defensive.

You met Ellie’s gaze. "Yeah, well, maybe that's what it takes to break down walls."

Ellie seemed to study you for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "You're relentless, you know that?"

You grinned. "It's one of my best qualities."

The evening ended on a surprisingly positive note, with you and Ellie parting ways with a newfound understanding.

In the days that followed, you and Ellie’s interactions continued to evolve. You found yourselves sharing occasional moments of friendship, whether it was a congratulatory pat on the back after a tough training session or a shared joke that left you both laughing. However, the underlying tension remained, occasionally resurfacing in a sharp remark or a competitive challenge on the field.

One sunny afternoon, the team gathered for another friendly scrimmage. You and Ellie were on opposing sides, your rivalry intensifying as you fought for control of the ball.

During a break, you approached the sidelines to catch your breath. You glanced over to where Ellie was standing, her chest heaving from the exertion. Your eyes met, and you couldn't help but offer a nod of acknowledgment. Ellie responded with a curt nod of her own, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual respect that had slowly begun to form between you.

As the scrimmage continued, your mind drifted back to your conversation at the restaurant. You wondered if Ellie had taken your words to heart, if there was a chance for you to truly move beyond the rivalry that had defined your relationship for so long.

The opportunity to explore this newfound connection presented itself one evening after practice. You found yourself alone, yet again, in the locker room, lost in thought. You were startled when the door opened, and Ellie walked in, her expression that of annoyance.

"Can't believe you managed to score that goal," Ellie muttered, her arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Jealous, Williams?"

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in her gaze. "As if."

Your lips twitched into a smile. "You know, we could make a pretty good team if we put our differences aside."

Ellie’s response was a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "You're actually suggesting we team up?"

You shrugged. "Why not? We both know how to play to our strengths. And imagine the look on everyone's faces if we actually worked together."

Ellie seemed to consider the proposition for a moment before relenting. "Fine. But this doesn't mean we're suddenly best friends or anything."

You grinned. "Of course not. Just allies on the field."

Over the following weeks, you and Ellie’s partnership began to take shape. You pushed each other to excel, your competitive spirit driving you both to new heights. The tension between you had transformed into a unique synergy, a blend of rivalry and friendship that was as unexpected as it was effective.

Off the field, your interactions continued to be marked by moments of both warmth and hostility. You found yourself enjoying Ellie’s company more than you would have thought possible, relishing the glimpses of vulnerability that occasionally surfaced beneath her tough exterior.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, you found yourself sitting on the bleachers of the empty stadium. You gazed out at the field, lost in thought. You were startled when Ellie appeared beside you, her gaze fixed on the same view.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet?" Ellie’s voice was unusually soft.

You smiled, a hint of nostalgia in your eyes. "Yeah, it's a nice change from the chaos of the game."

Ellie nodded in agreement. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but... you've made training a little less unbearable."

You chuckled. "High praise coming from you, Williams."

The stadium was bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, casting a warm and golden glow over the field. The atmosphere was tranquil, a stark contrast to the intensity of your usual rivalry. You turned your attention to Ellie, your gaze lingering on her profile. There was a vulnerability in Ellie’s expression, a crack in the armor that had always shielded her from the world.

"Who would've thought that we'd end up here?" You mused, your voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

Ellie let out a wry chuckle, her eyes never leaving the horizon. "Yeah, it's a strange twist of fate."

The air was thick with unspoken emotions, a charged silence that seemed to envelop you both. Your heart raced as you found yourself inching closer to Ellie, your body moving almost of its own accord. Your shoulders brushed against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"You know, I never really knew you before all of this," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie turned to face you, her gaze intense and searching. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of suspended time. The months of rivalry, the animosity, it all seemed to melt away, leaving behind an undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

Without another word, you closed the distance between the both of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You pressed your lips to Ellie’s in a hesitant, gentle kiss.

As you pulled away, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty played across Ellie’s features. Your heart raced as you searched Ellie’s eyes for any sign of regret, but what you found was a flicker of something else—something that mirrored your own feelings.

"I... I don't know what this means," You admitted, your voice tinged with a touch of insecurity.

Ellie’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "I don't either. But I guess we'll figure it out together."

Your lips twitched into a smile of their own, a sense of hope blossoming within you. "Yeah, I guess we will."

You sat there in the fading light, side by side on the bleachers, the weight of your shared history and newfound connection hanging in the air. The stadium that had witnessed countless fierce battles between you both now bore witness to a different kind of victory—one that transcended rivalry and embraced the possibility of something more.

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pumpkincarriage3 · 1 year

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Ace and Deuce Relationship Analysis

I always find Ace's and Deuce's first interaction in the game to be hilarious with further context we are provided later on.

Upon first meeting, Deuce throws a literal cauldron on top of Ace. And then the two proceed to argue with each other over their names -- which is hilarious for multiple reasons. They are apart of the same dormitory and classes, they sleep in the same room together (they're roommates), they have spent at least one night in the same room together, with their two other roommates, and apparently neither of them thought to ask the other for their name? Or they couldn't be bothered to remember the others name even though they're roommates and would have met prior to this? Even though they share all of their classes together?

Just, the idea that they have no idea who the other is at the start of the story is absolutely hilarious. Especially since at the end of the prologue, Deuce remarks how he's stuck with Ace since they share the same dormitory. And it makes me wonder if he was remembering him and Ace share a dorm room, or it's just the fact that he knows that they share the same dormitory? Which that thought just makes me wonder, if he didn't remember they share the same dorm, how that conversation went down once Ace and Deuce realized they were heading towards the same room?

But moving on from that, Deuce and Ace had a rivalry going on from the very beginning. From Deuce throwing a cauldron on Ace. From Ace intentionally saying Deuce's name wrong. To Deuce then throwing Ace at a chandelier. Then there was Dwarves Mine, where Deuce, Ace, and Grimm were all at each others throats throwing the blame around. And Deuce and Ace butting heads because Ace wanted to throw in the towel but Deuce not wanting to give up just yet.

Their personalities are completely conflicting. It probably doesn't help that Ace can probably tell that Deuce is holding back from acting out, which in turn annoys Ace. So, Ace than taunts Deuce to intentionally get Deuce to just be himself, in the worst way possible, which then makes Deuce upset.

But, with that said, it's not like their relationship is just a rivalry. Their relationship isn't just arguing. Because they did form a bond during the events of what happened at Dwarves Mine. Because they both had to actively work together and watch each others backs. They had to rely on each other so they didn't die. And it worked. Them working together, with both Yuu and Grimm, helped them accomplish their goals.

This bond is part of the reason why Deuce goes to check up on Ace once he finds out what happened with him and Riddle. Because they just went through a life-or-death scenario and Deuce wakes up to find that Ace is gone and nowhere to be found. He might have been confused, may have momentarily thought that since Crowley had finished the paperwork that they were expelled and he just hadn't said anything, he might have panicked. Or he may have felt none of these things and just wanted to go over and poke fun at Ace since Ace had kept poking fun at him. Poking fun at something he's insecure about, even if Ace doesn't realize exactly what he's doing.

But, Deuce does help out Ace with him being collared. He goes back to Heartslabyul and paints some of the roses. He goes out of his way to go to Heartslabyul to talk to Riddle with Ace even though he knows Riddle is in a foul mood. Of course, that's not to say that Deuce helps Ace with everything selflessly. When it came to collect chestnuts to make a new tart, Deuce didn't offer his help until it was confirmed that he would get to try a tart to. But he did stand up with Ace once he thought Riddle was being unreasonable, and even got his own-self collared.

As time goes on, because they experience so many life-or-death experiences, they naturally gravitate towards one another. They naturally hang out with one another. It's this same reason why they get along so well with Yuu and Grimm. The fact that they share the same dorm room, the same dormitory and all of the same classes just adds to that. But because of this, they also don't get a whole lot of time away from each other, which allows for some frustration to build on their parts.

Because they do genuinely care for each other. One can see this in the Endless Halloween Event, where Ace was worried about, Yuu, Grimm and Deuce. It's just sometimes their relationship comes off more as frenemies than friends.

And apart of this, as I said earlier, is because of how they conflict. Ace wants Deuce to be completely honest with himself and not restrain himself to a role that doesn't completely suit him, so he constantly pokes at and taunts Deuce to bring that Deuce out into the open. Contrastly, when Ace teases Deuce, it pisses Deuce off. Especially since Ace has the tendency to hit the nail right on all of Deuce's insecurities in a way of provoking Deuce into just being himself. But because of who they both are, neither of them have actually properly said something to one another.

Which causes that frustration to fester to the point that Deuce goes to the beach and screams his frustrations out. The two are good friends, and genuinely care for one another, but they should probably sit down and speak with one another before the other snaps.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst fandom #disney twisted wonderland #Disney twst wonderland #ace trappola #twst ace #twst ace trappola #deuce spade #twst deuce #twst deuce spade #character analysis #relationship analysis

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haveyoureadthistransbook · 3 months

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The Autobiography of a Transgender Scientist by Ben Barres

goodreads

Ben Barres was known for his groundbreaking scientific work and for his groundbreaking advocacy for gender equality in science. In this book, completed shortly before his death from pancreatic cancer in December 2017, Barres describes a life full of remarkable accomplishments--from his childhood as a precocious math and science whiz to his experiences as a female student at MIT in the 1970s to his female-to-male transition in his forties, to his scientific work and role as teacher and mentor at Stanford. Barres recounts his early life--his interest in science, first manifested as a fascination with the mad scientist in Superman; his academic successes; and his gender confusion. Barres felt even as a very young child that he was assigned the wrong gender. After years of being acutely uncomfortable in his own skin, Barres transitioned from female to male. As an undergraduate at MIT, Barres experienced discrimination, but it was after transitioning that he realized how differently male and female scientists are treated. This led him to become an advocate for gender equality in science.

Mod opinion: I haven't heard of this memoir before and I personally probably won't read it, but it does sound like it could be interesting.

#the autobiography of a transgender scientist #ben barres #ben a barres #polls #trans lit #trans literature #trans books #lgbt lit #lgbt literature #lgbt books #trans man #own voices #memoir #nonfiction

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canariie · 11 months

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the boyfriend sweater

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Toushiro passed through the thin dress shirts and found the fall items, his eye skimming through the hoodies and pull over sweaters. Instinctively he wanted to choose the black and darker clothing but found himself second guessing the colour. Hinamori likes colourful things, so maybe I should pick brighter? He shook his head, grumbling at the amount of pressure he felt. She said she liked the other shirt because it reminded her of me—don’t think too hard about this.

��

Toushiro fails to understand the concept of the “boyfriend sweater”

Word Count: 1770 words

Setting: during the time skip, before the epilogue of Bleach (probably 3 years after the last chapter)

Authour’s Note: Hello hello! it’s been a while :) This short little sequel fic was inspired by several reviews from i just called to say that I finally got around to sitting down and finishing it up! I was so taken back by all the love that that fic received that I really wanted to write a little sequel for it! Also thank you to everyone who submitted requests! Between writing for Hitsuhina week, Celebrate Bleach event, and my fic requests I got a lot of writing to do this summer haha Please bear with me as I work on them but I will promise to respond to everyone :)

Enjoy!

—

“Matsumoto—where are the catalogues for the Living World clothes?”

Rangiku looked up at her captain with a raised eyebrow. “In the storage drawers—but Taicho, why do you want it now?” The 10th captain had never expressed interest in choosing his own clothes, and usually had left it up to her to pick, just giving her short remarks as feedback of what he liked or not.

“Well,” Toushiro paused, carefully trying to think of a sufficient explanation without further questions. “We may be sent to the World of the Living soon for survey missions—and I have outgrown my clothing.” He had easily shot up half a foot in height, so all of his previous articles had long grown short for him.

But the real reason why he wanted to look at the catalogue was because of his childhood friend.

Momo had been going to human world to spend time developing her kido training with the human girl, Orihime and the former kido general corps Haachi—leaving her extended with stays on the other side. During this time, they had been calling each other in the absence of physically seeing each other. It was something that Toushiro found himself looking forward to; even though they were in two different worlds, it felt like their relationship was being mended and transforming into something new.

During one of these calls, Momo had let it slip that she had been sleeping in his old shirt—which scrambled his mind in a way he hadn’t known possible—leaving Toushiro to promise her that he would give her something that would fit her better (since he was now around the same height as her).

And while Toushiro knew that they were becoming closer with each other, he didn’t want to assume anything that would jeopardize their current relationship—especially considering how they had strayed from each other for a while.

Toushiro lifted to his eyes to see his lieutenant standing in front of his desk, a skeptical look in her blue eyes. “Here’s the catalogue. I have to leave for a lieutenant’s meeting but just place a note of which one you like and I’ll order it later.”

He took it from her, trying not to seem to eager. “Thank you, Matsumoto.”

When the door shut, he quickly opened up the paper book, sifting through the pages. It gave him greater sense of accomplishment that he could finally order from the older section (something that Matsumoto had great fun with earlier when she picked out clothes from the junior section and he had to immediately reprimand her to order less childish prints).

As he flipped through the catalogue, he couldn’t help his mind straying to thinking about the fifth lieutenant. It’ll probably be colder now since they’re approaching autumn. Toushiro passed through the thin dress shirts and found the fall items, his eye skimming through the hoodies and pull over sweaters. Instinctively he wanted to choose the black and darker clothing but found himself second guessing the colour. Hinamori likes colourful things, so maybe I should pick brighter? He shook his head, grumbling at the amount of pressure he felt. She said she liked the other shirt because it reminded her of me—don’t think too hard about this.

With that thought, he found a dark blue pullover sweater that he knew would fit him well and placed the book on Matsumoto’s desk.

---

Fortunately for Toushiro, Matsumoto ordered it quickly and came right on time before Momo had her next trip to the Living World. He was able to finish all his work just in time to hurry over to the departure site, with the bag in hand, right as the fifth lieutenant was about to step through after finishing debriefing with one of her division officers.

“Hinamori!” Toushiro called out.

She turned around and he could feel his racing heart quicken as her warm brown eyes widened in surprise. “Hitsugaya-kun,” Momo she said softly. “What are you doing here?”

What exactly am I doing here? Toushiro eyed the division officer, who seemed to have gotten the message and turned around, removing himself from the proximity of the two childhood friends.

“I…wanted to say bye to you—before you left,” Toushiro explained lamely. The brown-haired girl blushed and she smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble! I know how busy you are and it’s late.”

Toushiro cleared his throat. “…I also had something to give to you.”

At her wide-eyed expression, he thrusted the bag towards her. “You said you wanted something of mine to wear,” Toushiro explained, and he inwardly cursed at how weak and awkward he sounded.

He could only watch as she took it carefully, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she pulled out the pullover sweater.

“Wow! This is perfect!” Momo looked at him with a beaming smile. “Thank you, Hitsugaya-kun!”

He could feel his ears go red and he looked to the side. “It’s Hitsugaya-taicho,” he corrected and then cleared his throat. “But you’re welcome—now you can have a sweater that fits and hasn’t been worn before.”

“What?” Momo looked down at the article in her hand. “This is new…?”

Toushiro raised his eyebrow. “Yeah, why would I give you something used?”

It was Momo’s turn to be flustered, her cheeks going bright red as she stammered. “Ah-oh I don’t know—I thought you had worn it before,” she blushed furiously and Toushiro couldn’t help notice how her shoulders sagged and the despondent look that crossed her face. She quickly shook her head and smiled at him—a slightly forced one he could tell.

“Thank you so much Hitsugaya-taicho, I will wear it well! I’ll call you later during the week,” She called out before rushing away through the portal, leaving him standing there awkwardly.

What was that?

---

The next few days, Toushiro couldn’t stop thinking about their last interaction. As he was filling out paperwork, or training with Hyourinmaru or attending captain’s meetings—he simply could not understand what went wrong.

And knowing that he was never going to be able to focus on his work, he turned to the one person he knew would have the answer on anything to do with Momo: his lieutenant.

When came into the office, she was lying down on the couch reading through a manga she had obtained from Yadomaru-taicho. Before he could even say anything, she called out from behind her book. “Don’t worry Taicho, I’ve finished all the reports. I’m just on my break now.”

“That’s fine, Matsumoto,” he replied as he sat down. It was quiet for a moment as Matsumoto continued to read, flipping through the pages so that Toushiro couldn’t see her face.

“Matsumoto,” he spoke up. “I had a question about the sweater you ordered me: was there anything wrong with it?”

“Hmm, not that I’m aware of. It looked fine to me—and that brand is a good one,” she answered from behind the book as she turned the page.

“When I gave Hinamori the sweater, she looked…sad,” Toushiro admitted.

The older woman perked up, putting down the book and sitting herself up to look at her captain with a suspicious look in her eyes. “Wait—Taicho, why did you give your new sweater to her?”

“Well, last time we spoke on the phone while she was in the World of Living, she ended up wearing one of my old shirts from years ago. I told her instead of wearing that, I could give her something that fits…” Toushiro slowed down as he saw his lieutenant’s blue eyes widening. “So I don’t know what the issue was.”

She stared at him with a dumfounded expression before crying out. “Because Hinamori wanted a boyfriend sweater! Something of yours!”

“I bought her a new sweater!” Toushiro defended hastily. “I hadn’t even worn it yet!”

“And that’s exactly the problem!” Rangiku exclaimed, standing up now with the book completely forgotten. “The whole point of having a boyfriend sweater is to wear a sweater with his scent on it! It’ll be slightly worn, washed a couple of times—but it has to remind her of you!”

Toushiro was dumbstruck as his lieutenant continued her tirade.

“Aw my poor sweet Hina-chan, I am so sorry you have my love-incompetent captain as your friend,”

“Hey,” he warned.

Matsumoto turned on him with a determined look in her eyes with placed hands on her hips. “Taicho, you have to immediately go get a sweater. Wear it down, even sweat in it, and wash it! Do you have a preferred fabric softener that you use?”

He arched his eyebrow. “I am not giving her sweaty clothing.”

Rangiku rolled her eyes. “Obviously not! But it still must remind her of you!”

“Matsumoto,” he sighed exasperatedly. “I am not her boyfriend. Hinamori did not want a ‘boyfriend’ sweater, as you put it.”

She groaned dramatically, collapsing on the couch and closing her eyes in frustration. “Taicho, there are a few things I will swear my life on—the best brand of sake, the hidden gem store to buy kimonos, the best time to eat persimmons. This is another one of them.” She pushed her hair back, and held her hands in front of her, as if explaining a critical lesson. “No, you are not her boyfriend—which is another future discussion we will have,” Toushiro raised his eyebrow but she continued on. “However, you are someone that is special to her and she wanted a piece of clothing that reminded her of you—especially while she is away from you!

“When have I ever strayed you captain? Did I not tell you to wear a suit and give her ice roses for White Day,” she said with a knowing tone. Toushiro had to giver her that—it was all her idea and the look of gratitude on Momo’s face was one he could never forget.

“The look of a girl in love in the sweater of her partner—and especially if it’s larger than her—is something every girl wants!” Rangiku explained with finality.

Toushiro’s mind reeled, thinking of Momo in his sweater that would be too big on her petite frame, the end of it coming mid-thigh. Her twirling around and smiling brightly at him. He had to shake the thoughts off.

“So, I need to give her…,” Toushiro iterated, “used clothing…because it reminds her of me?” Rangiku nodded emphatically.

“But why would women want to take men’s clothes when it doesn’t fit them?”

Rangiku sighed in resignation. “We’ve got a lot to teach you, Taicho...”

—

Authour’s Note: Toushiro seems like the kind of guy that wouldn’t fully understand the concept of a boyfriend sweater, right? I guess some human world concepts are just too confusing to completely compute haha

Hope you enjoyed :) Please look forward to more fics this summer! I will do my best :)

#hitsuhina #canariie: my fics #i just couldn't let go of that chain shirt they had toushiro wear in the human world #i needed to expand on the discourse that is shinigami taking on human fashion hahaha #toushiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #rangiku matsumoto

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unhappycylinder · 1 year

Text

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader) Part 6

WC: 4.5k

Summary: You head to San Diego to spend your summer with Jake and the rest of the Dagger squad

Warnings: Smut ofc cause its me, emotions, lmk if I missed anything

Also special thanks to my personal fanfic archaeologist for literally reading this constantly and telling me how to make dialogue not sound robotic, you know who you are <3

Masterlist

---

The fateful timing of Gabby’s wedding meant you only had to leave Jake for two weeks of school before it was summer and you were free to spend a whole three months by his side.

Of course those two weeks dragged on for what felt like months, but ultimately you finished strong. Most of your motivation came from your nightly facetimes with Jake, or the occasional surprise phone call in the mornings while he was driving to work. His passion about his job and his drive to achieve perfection was nothing short of inspirational, and even though his job was unbelievably tough and much more dangerous than your college career, he never let himself tell you about his day before he heard about yours. It was the little things like that, like him remembering when your finals were or never calling when he knew you had class, that showed you just how much he cared, and just how much you needed to cherish him.

Two weeks gone and you were on the plane to San Diego once again. Despite Gabby’s protests, Jake had won the privilege of picking you up at the airport…winning based on the fact that you'd be staying with him, not the Bradshaws, this time.

Reuniting with him made it feel like no time had passed since the wedding. You stepped out of the airport to find him reclining against the side of his car, aviators on, and arms wide open to lift you into his embrace. His scent, his strength, and his gentle voice instantly calmed you the second you found him, and you couldn't help but release a sigh of relief at the feeling of being in his arms again.

The drive to his place was quiet for the most part, him asking about your flight and spouting off some facts about the Boeing model you were in, making you giggle. You loved how nerdy he was about planes, how you could tell that under that arrogant exterior was a little southern boy who read every book on planes he could get his hands on.

Jake’s hand moved from your thigh as you pulled into his driveway, a location you had only seen once before on the night of Gabby’s wedding. His house was a quaint 2 story suburban home with a large tree in the front yard and a small porch which Jake had yet to decorate.

“I didn't really get to appreciate this place in the daylight last time,” you remarked as Jake helped you out of his truck.

“Ah not much to appreciate anyway, I haven't had the chance to fix it up as much as I’d like to yet,” he said as he studied the house, probably making a mental list of all the projects he had to accomplish

“It's a beautiful home Jake,” you moved in front of him and stood on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “good location, close to work,” you continued as you went to open the back door and grab your bags, “nice neighborhood…”

Jake cut in and grabbed your bags for you, leaning across the backseat as you continued.

“Maybe even big enough for a family someday,” you finished, Jake remained in the backseat stunned.

Of course he had imagined a family when he picked this house. He was a Texan gentleman, a family was, second to his job, the thing he wanted most. But now that you said it, now that he knew he wasn't alone in imagining a family together, a family with you, he didn't know what to do with himself.

“What?” He asked, moving out of the backseat and closing the door behind him.

“I said it's a nice house Jake,” you repeated, questioning his change in tone

“No no the part about the family”

“Well, it's a pretty big house for just you Jake. I’m assuming you thought maybe you'd be here for a bit, maybe settle down here, when you bought a house this big”

“Yeah I guess I did,” he glanced up at the house again

“So what's got you confused?” You asked him

“I guess I just like the thought of you asking me about a family, sugar,” he gave you that devious smirk of his and walked toward his front door with your bags, you trailing behind him with that same smirk on your face.

Jake led you up to his room, setting your bags on the floor as you trailed in behind him. You were dying to get out of your airport clothes and get clean so you could settle in, plus what better way to break the ice than to just start stripping.

Jake was busy fumbling with your suitcase, trying to get it open and prop it up so you could easily unpack your clothes into the drawers of his dresser that he had cleared out for you. What Jake didn't expect was to turn around and find you shirtless and in the process of taking off your leggings, leaving you standing in just your bra and undies.

“Y/n,” Jake flushed a deep red, “what are you doing honey?” He stood up straight, eyes locked on your breasts.

“Taking off my airport clothes silly,” you giggled, “Jake, you look like somethings scared you,” you tease him

“Sugar I haven't seen your body in weeks and here you are, nearly naked in my bedroom no more than ten minutes after I get you home,” he began to approach you, arms outstretched to grab at your hips

“Hey now,” you bat his arms away, “that's not true flyboy, you've seen quite a bit of my body in that time”

“Ugh y/n pictures don't count,” he reached out to grab you again

“Jake,” you said seriously, stopping his advances, “I smell like jet fuel and I feel like I haven't showered in a year, so I’m going to go ahead and fix those issues before we go any further”

“Y/n” he groaned your name, “you're a crazy woman if you think I'm letting you tease me like this and shower without me,” you finally let him rest his hands on your hips, his fingers dipping into your flesh as he squeezed you closer to him

“I was hoping you'd say that,” you looked up at him with seductive eyes

A second later you were off the ground, legs wrapped around Jakes waist as his mouth collided with yours and you were being carted off to his bathroom. Keeping you on him, Jake reached to turn on the spout of his large bathtub which was set into the corner of the room with a large round window above it. As he let that fill, he guided you into the adjacent shower and pressed you against the cold tile wall, eliciting a gasp from you, but never breaking the kiss. You tugged at his shirt, encouraging him to pull it over his head and throw it out of the shower, running your hands up his gorgeously toned back that you had missed so terribly the past two weeks. His hands left your hips to unlatch his belt and unzip his pants, which he carefully worked down his legs so as to not move you from your place between him and the wall. Now that you were both just in your underwear, he turned the shower on.

The warm water ran down his back and your hands as you kissed him harder, his throbbing erection taunting the space between your legs.

“Jake,” you panted, finally breaking the kiss, “I need you right now”

He huffed and set you down, spinning you around so your ass was pressed against his clothed cock, the warm water now running between you two. You could feel his breath by your ear as he spoke “not here honey, be patient”

Jake knelt down to his knees, his fingers lacing into the seam of your panties and dragging them down your wet legs, his mouth pressing kisses to your ass and your thighs as you stepped out of them and he discarded them from the shower. As he stood up his hands got to work on your bra, unclamping the back and guiding his hands to the front to replace the cups, squeezing gently and teasing your nipples between his fingertips and you worked the straps down your arms and threw it out of the shower.

Grabbing the soap, Jake ran it over your whole body, kissing down your arms before he traced them with soap, pressing his soft lips to your inner thigh before he slid the soap on between your legs. Once he was done, he carefully slid his hands up and down your whole body as you watched him, your eyes full of want and lust, your thighs pressing together for any friction.

“My turn,” you interjected as he stood up from cleaning the soap from your legs.

You guided your fingertips into his soaked boxers which showed the perfect outline of his cock straining through the fabric, guiding them gently down his legs and throwing them out to join the pile of damp clothes. As you knelt down, your lips found the tip of his cock, teasing to take his entire length in your mouth. Jake stared down at you, his hands threading through your hair, his abdomen flexing at every touch from your mouth. You pressed one final kiss to his tip, standing back up to your full height and grabbing the soap from behind him. Repeating his methods, you traced the soap over his whole body, pressing kisses to his golden skin beforehand. After the soap, your hands found their way across his abs, his back, his shoulders, his cock, and his beautiful legs. He grasped the sides of your face as you finished rubbing his legs, guiding you back up to standing as he turned the water off. His mouth collided feverishly with yours, his teeth nibbling at your bottom lip with every motion, and his tongue swirling with yours between you both.

“Get in the bath,” he huffed out between kisses. You pulled away, lacing your hand with his as you left the shower and stepped into the now-full tub just next to it, Jake following closely behind.

Jake stretched his legs out in the tub, it was easily big enough to fit both of you comfortably, maybe even a third person, and you reveled in the feeling of the warm water surrounding your skin. Jake’s hands found their way to your waist underwater, tugging you towards him and guiding your thighs apart so you were straddling his lap, his cock teasing your entrance.

Just like in the shower, Jake’s hands explored your entire body, his calloused fingers running patterns over your back, your ass, your breasts, and your legs. His eyes followed his hands everywhere they went, your breath getting heavier as his hands moved lower. Just as they teased at your mound, his eyes darted up to yours, full of lust and love, as his hands made their way up to your face. His hands gently cupped your cheeks as his eyes searched yours, you stared back at him as you placed your hands on his chest which was just above the waterline.

“I’ve thought about you being here for so long you have no idea” Jake’s deep voice shook you as he spoke

“Knowing I’d get to spend my summer with you was literally the only thing getting me through school, Lieutenant,” he tossed his head back at the nickname, letting out a small groan

“You’re killing me sweetheart”

“Then why don’t you do something about it” you teased, grinding yourself down onto him, forcing another groan from his lips

“Oh honey” Jake’s voice grew serious as his eyes returned to you, flashing desire

His hands moved to your hips once again, lifting you up as your hand trailed down to his cock to guide it inside you. Jake held you up as you gently sank down onto him, slowly letting him fill you up entirely.

“Jake” you moaned breathily, “I’ve missed you,”

Jake began to slowly guide you up and down on his cock once you had time to adjust, his fingers digging into your hips

“You’re telling me sweetheart,” Jake smiled up at you, “that feel good?”

You nodded, biting your lip and closing your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of Jake inside of you.

“Words baby,” he groaned, slammin you down harder onto him.

“Jake, I can’t” you squeaked out, the sensation of him bottoming out with every thrust overwhelming your senses

“Be a good girl baby, come on, tell me how much you love me fucking you”

Jake’s words sent a chill down your spine and brought you closer to finishing with every thrust.

“I love it Jake,” you hummed, your hands grabbing his neck to stabilize yourself as you began to bounce up and down faster.

Jake moaned, his hands moving to your ass and squeezing as he relaxed and let you do the work, riding his cock and sloshing the water between you two.

As you both approached your climax, Jake placed his hand at the back of your neck and pulled you down to his face, connecting his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he took over, thrusting into you harder and faster than before. You pulled away from the kiss, unable to focus on it given the immense pleasure you were feeling between your legs. Tucking your head into Jake’s neck, his hands returned to your hips and held you still as he fucked you, low groans escaping his lips at each thrust.

Before you knew it you were reaching your climax, the ball of tension inside of you snapping and unleashing the feeling of pure ecstasy that only being with Jake let you feel. You slumped into him, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder between breaths as his thrusts became more irregular and he neared his climax.

Jake fucked you through your orgasm, reaching his own not long after you, the feeling of his warm cum spreading inside you peaking your arousal once again.

“Fuck baby,” Jake sighed, his hands moving to your back and rubbing sweet circles along your shoulder blades.

“I think we might need to take another shower,” you chuckled out of breath, beads of sweat pooling along both of your foreheads. You pushed yourself up and rested your hands on the side of the tub.

You and Jake sat there in comfortable silence, listening to the gentle sloshing of water as you relaxed into him. The sudden ring of your phone caused you to sigh.

“I’ve got it…” you pulled yourself out of the tub. Jake grabbed your forearm as you tried to exit the tub.

“Let it go to voicemail” he grinned .

You dropped your hand to look at him.

“It could be important…”

He sighed in agreement and let your arm go. On your way out of the bathroom you grabbed a towel and wrap it around yourself. You entered the bedroom, trying to identify where the ringing of the phone came from. You heard the vibration from the bed area. “Incoming Call From Gabby” your phone read.

You answered the phone.

“Hey Gabby, what’s up!”

“Oh hey! You sound out of breath,” she commented

“Oh,” you chuckled, “yeah um…”

“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know what I interrupted” Gabby interjected, you could sense her feigned disgust over the phone

“I just called to let you know the whole Dagger squad is meeting up at the Hard Deck tonight and if I’m the only non-aviator there I’m gonna rip my eyes out”

“Oh my god Gabby, okay”

“What’s she saying,” Jake asked, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, his hair spikey from the water.

“Just that she’s gonna disfigure herself if we don’t go to the hard deck tonight,” you turned to face him, cheeks blushing red at the sight of Jake in just a towel.

“I don’t give a fuck if Bagman is there,” Gabby yelled over the phone loud enough for Jake to hear, “I just want to see my girl, its been too long”

“She’s my girl Gabby, why don’t you stop trying to steal her from me and go find your chicken” Jake yelled towards your phone, making Gabby giggle

“Fine, fine,” Gabby surrendered, “Hard deck, tonight, six p.m.”

“See you then babe,” you laughed as you hung up the phone and turned yourself to Jake, sitting gently on the edge of Jake’s bed, his eyes tracking you as he stood near the bathroom door.

“So I’m your girl, am I?” You questioned. Even though you and Jake had been talking and acting like a couple for the past few weeks, the subject of actually dating each other had never really come up, despite how much both of you wanted it to.

“Well,” Jake sighed, moving towards you so he could stand between your legs and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess we haven’t really made that official yet have we?”

“No, we haven’t,” you looked up into his eyes as his hands grasped the side of your face, “but I think I’d really like it if we did”

“Y/n,” Jake mockingly asked, “are you saying you want me to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

“Jake,” you mocked his tone, “I’m saying the thing I want most in this world is to be your girlfriend”

You both chuckled as Jake bent down to place his face next to yours, his nose brushing gently against yours before his lips reached yours for a tender kiss.

Pulling away, you brushed your fingers through his damp hair, “we better get going flyboy, Hard deck at six remember?”

Jake groaned as you stood up, moving him to the side so you could migrate to your bag and pull out some clothes.

“Hard deck at six,” he repeated under his breath, moving to his dresser and reluctantly pulling out clothes for himself.

–

Jake’s truck pulled into the hard deck parking lot, the sun beginning to dip towards the horizon, casting everything in an orange glow. His hand moved from your thigh, where it had been resting the whole time, to the e-brake.

“Ready to go?” He asked you, awaiting your response before making any move to leave the car.

“Very” you smiled at him, which he took as his cue to hop out of the car and help you out from your side.

Hand in hand, you entered the bar to find your friends all crowded around the pool table, rock music playing on the stereo on the other side of the bar.

“Y/n!!!” Gabby squealed, leaving Rooster’s side to run over and envelop you in a hug, which you returned, squeezing your friend and giggling.

“Hi Gabs, I missed you”

“I missed you too, but you've left me alone with these aviators for far too long and now you're gonna make up for it while Rooster and I take a romantic walk on the beach! Okay? Bye!” Gabby quickly shouted, grabbing her husband's hand and yanking him out the door. You and Jake couldn't help but laugh at her antics.

“Bagman!” Bob, one of Jake’s fellow aviators, shouted from across the bar, holding up an extra beer towards him.

“If it ain't baby on board,” Jake greeted him in his taunting voice, sauntering his way towards the pool table

“Someday you two will stop this little taunting game of yours and realize just how much you love each other,” Phoenix quipped, standing up from her game of pool and locking eyes with you, “boy am I glad to see you y/n”

You smiled at Phoenix, approaching her to give her a quick hug

“You know I owe you one for keeping this asshole’s ego somewhat at bay lately,” she said, gesturing to Jake, “Bagman’s been far too preoccupied with you to even think about being a dick in the air.”

“Aww Jakey is that true,” you teased, making Phoenix giggle. Jake stood stoically on the other side of the table next to Bob and Coyote, his eyes softening with confusion at your question

“Of course it is y/n,” he said seriously, “you give me a reason to come home safe every time,” he grabbed a pool stick from Coyote and bent down to shoot, “that is besides keeping myself alive so this group of ugly bastards doesn't lose their sexiest member”

“Someday I’m gonna punch him,” Phoenix muttered while hitting your shoulder against yours

“You have my full permission,” you responded, “I can only keep his ego in check so much of the time…you've gotta take over the rest”

“I’m only doing it because I like you, and so he stops driving me insane,” she widened her eyes before bending back down to continue the game.

Several rounds of pool layer, the bar had filled up to its usual capacity. Sailors drifted in and out, using their military charm to impress the local women, the Dagger squad enjoying their usual forms of friendly competition. Every once in a while Jake would hop up to queue a song on the jukebox or buy another round of beers. Gabby and Rooster had returned after about an hour, allowing you time to talk to your friend about her life as a newlywed (and why it took her and Rooster so long on the beach ;). Jake lingered nearby, a hand or arm touching you at all times unless he was playing pool. You loved it, the constant contact, the occasional kiss on the top of the head, and the little giggles exchanged every once in a while, letting you know he was there and he cared for you, even though your focus was on your friends.

After the sun had just dipped below the horizon, and most of the Dagger squad had left, you and Jake and Rooster and Gabby closed out your tab before walking out onto the deck to watch the waves. Several families packed up their bags on the sand and we're heading back to their cars for the day after enjoying another sunny day of California sunshine.

Jake had his hand around your waist, Rooster had his around Gabby’s shoulders.

“Alright alright, it's about time we headed home,” Rooster said, turning to place a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead, “Y/n I’m sure I'll see you soon enough, and Hangman I’ll see you bright and early for training tomorrow”

Through a gritted smile, Jake let out an exclamation of sarcastic enthusiasm, “seeing your face every morning is the reason I get up”

Rooster laughed, you and Gabby just rolled your eyes at each other.

“Just fuck already, my God,” Gabby groaned as she spun herself around and began to pull Rooster away.

Rooster and Jake let out a laugh, completed by a small salute, as your couples broke off. Rooster and Gabby walked over to their bronco, Rooster opening her door and helping her in, while you and Jake walked towards the beach.

After a few minutes of silent walking, your hand engulfed by his, a cool breeze flowing towards the both of you, Jake stopped and turned to face the ocean.

“What's on your mind baby,” you asked while nuzzling close to him, partly to show affection partly to keep warm, “you've been quiet all night”

“Do you want to sit here with me for a little bit?”

You nodded, pulling Jake down with you as you rested in the sand, legs outstretched in front of you, arms clasping Jake’s arm which rested on his thigh.

“You know when you and Phoenix were talking about me being a safer pilot since I met you?”

“Yeah…” you questioned where he was going with this.

“I don't know why. I don't know what's happened, but every time I’m up there I'm scared.” Jake’s eyes avoided you, choosing instead to search the darkening ocean in front of you, “I've never been like that before. I’m ready to go, I’m prepared, I’m confident in my flying. That's my whole thing. But ever since you, I’ve been scared out of my mind that I’m gonna fuck shit up and never get to see you again.”

You pulled away momentarily to look up at him, giving him a small nod of reassurance for him to continue.

“I've been afraid before during missions and stuff that I’d get killed, but it was different. I knew my mom and my sisters would understand, I knew they'd be proud of me for dying in combat… in a weird way.” He sighed, “but if I died now, if I did something stupid in training, or if I got deployed, I’d feel so full of regret.”

“Jake what do you mean? You're a fighter pilot, of course it's gonna be dangerous, you know that, I shouldn't change how you feel about that”

“Y/n if I burnt in I’d never get to make more memories with you. I'd never get to hold you or kiss you again. I'd never get to watch you hang out with my friends like you've been there since day one. I'd never get to see where this goes, where we end up. There are so many what if’s, so many things that scare me that I never had to think about before. What if we work out and what if we have a family and-”

“Jake” you cut him off, sitting up straight and lacing your fingers with his

“Y/n,” he locked his eyes with yours, his breath heavy

“Stop worrying.” You said matter of factly

“Sweetheart it's not that simple-”

“Jake you need to stop worrying about that”

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” you sighed, happy to finally get that off your chest, something you had wanted to say for months.

“You love me?” His eyes softened, tears threatening to form as if it was the first time he had heard someone say that and mean it in years

“Yeah Jake. I love you. And of course I want you to come home safe every time, regardless of whether or not I'm a factor, but I need you to be safe up there for me. You're the best pilot in the navy, no question, and I think that's pretty cool, so if there's one thing you do, make it being safe…please” you chuckled, eyes diverting from his briefly before returning, searching for some response.

“Woman…I didn't think I could love you any more than I already did…” he reached up to grab your face, pulling you in for a tight kiss, feeling all his worries melt away into the night sky. This was going to be a summer to remember.

Taglist: @dempy @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mightiestheroes @taytaylala12

#jake seresin x reader #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #Top Gun fic #hangman x reader

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timevir · 4 months

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2024 - A New Timevir

This post contains some words about the loss of death.

Writing is a very fun hobby that I've done for as long as I can remember. It probably started as written exercises and fanfiction during childhood. It transformed into intricate worldbuilding as I was introduced to the hobby of tabletop roleplaying. In recent years, I've written interactive fiction, scripts, novels and sourcebooks.

But one constant caveat is that I almost never shared my work. It was an enjoyable process to convert thoughts and feelings into substantative manifestations in the physical realm. Yet despite many coworkers, friends and family members asking about them, I'd always give the same answer of "it's personal and not worth sharing".

I thought about why I was doing this, and noticed I have been living the life of an observer. I enjoy the detail of the world around me, and paying attention to things that others would consider irrelevant. I would even deliberately put myself out of my comfort zone if it meant putting myself in a location that I could see something new. If there was an interesting protest in the city I was living in, if there was a strange, dangerous event occurring in the vicinity or if there was an unusual experience or location to be discovered, I'd happily waltz in and act like that I was meant to be there. During the riskier parts of youth, it even meant a bit of trespassing, but I stopped doing that after a few dangerous close calls.

What I was not doing as an observer was manifesting that in the world. Many of my projects would be built, some even to completion, and then they'd sit in a box, frozen and inaccessible through their obscurity. Nothing I made ever felt like it was deserved observation compared to the rich tapestry of the world around me. Even in the rare moments I found pride in something, it would soon feel obsolete compared to some next logical alternative.

A lot of my life has been spent on "the grind". Work had seemingly crept its way into absorbing the free energy I had in an addictive loop. At first, it was merely a way of ensuring survival and trying to get out of school debt. It took the majority of my late 20s to get out of school debt, a feat I was able to just reach before my 30th birthday. A few more months, and I had a decent emergency fund and a "real" disposable income, assuming I wasn't going to try and buy a house (which to be honest, isn't an exciting proposition at the moment. Real estate trends caused by high demand have made housing costs extortionate, but that's a discussion for another time).

Work is of course necessary for human survival. Indeed, if we took a snapshot of lives lead across history, nearly everyone has had to contribute in some way to their communities for them to function well. The meaning of work has shifted through the various periods of history significantly, but its goals have remained the same. What is implictly understood, even if not necessarily well recorded, is that there was a whole tapestry of living that existed outside of these actions that could mean vastly more to the people that lived around them. While much of these ideas have persisted through the passing of cultural works, very rarely have we got a good snapshot of the life of any specific individual, even if they potentially had amazing tales to tell.

Identity has slipped through my fingers somewhat accidentally. It had felt much easier to sacrifice every bit of effort to accumulate knowledge, resources and a position of comfort than it took to stand for anything. At first I may have resisted the ideas of exaggerating an accomplishment, or cutting on the quality of a product to create it faster, but those values became too easy to discard when reward was on the table. But if anyone were to ask me about the morals of the situation from the outside, I'd remark a half-mealed "it depends" which really meant nothing beyond the acknowledgement strong values had merit and self-interest could get in the way.

It seemed like the intelligent thing to do because the things that were remembered across time were great accomplishments, long standing monuments and the best and worst of events moulding humanity's timeline. It was easy to mistake what was memorialized for what was important in life. It then followed that if memorialization was an ultimate goal, that the best way to do so was to accomplish some great feat was to set yourself up with as much power as could be wielded, a good proxy for which was money, before putting all that strength into ventures in the hope that something would hit and a legend would be born.

It is possible I could have remained trapped in that vicious craving for objectives if it wasn't for a life shattering event at the end of 2023. It was at this time that my younger brother died unexpectedly in his mid twenties. A whole life was potentially ahead of him, but it was cut short at almost no notice. My relatively normal family crumbled into chaos and it was shattered.

In the emotional fallout, I looked again at what I had done. Of course I did not regret unburdening myself from debt, or succeeding at a career. But in all the push for an abstract notion of success and legend, I had lost an invaluable voice that could never be replicated. My brother had lived his life to his fullest in his time on Earth. He had moved country, he had found love and friendship, and he had ideas of a future. Seeing these wither into tears, memories, and finally a grave, made me realise in the end that a memorial would not make up for the moments that would never be had again.

My new year's resolution for 2024 is to try to reestablish a voice. To truly live in the world and not merely plan a story for my death. To make sure that my friendships and bonds remain strong and not let them disappear due to the inconvenience of maintenance. To stand for something and not just exist in the pursuit of convenience.

One way I am going to test myself on this goal is to try to make sure I write something down each week. Something public. It won't necessarily be something profound, but at least it may prevent me from slipping back into forgetting about the things that really matter. Perhaps it is better to exist in the world than merely drift through it.

#new year #new year resolutions #grief

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voraciousvore · 5 months

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The Giant (13/16)

------Chapter 13------

The next spell I attempted was the growth spell. To be frank, I wanted to do certain things with my boyfriend that I couldn't accomplish at my current size. However, thus far I had only been able to grow double or triple my size, and only for a couple of minutes at the most. For perspective, that meant even with the spell at its most potent I was still smaller than Chester's hand.

Disappointed, I moved on to manifesting portals, with equally limited success. Lightning spells were harder for me to use, and worked better during a storm or near electrical devices. Initially, no portals appeared at all, just little balls of electricity shedding cobalt sparks. With practice, I made tiny portals appear, keyholes to another world that I could peek through. I could see little snippets of the human world, but I felt farther away from home than ever. I kept making more portals, this time the size of windows. I managed to keep them stable long enough for me to be able to pass through, but I didn't want to travel there yet, until my spells were more reliable. I didn't want to unintentionally strand myself without any way to get back to Chester.

One afternoon, there was another lightning storm brewing, so I decided to try and make a portal outside. Chester came out with me to keep me company. He sat on the porch steps behind me, watching me practice. I made a good-sized portal that was remarkably well-casted. From this side I could see my parent's farmhouse.

"Should I go through this time?" I asked Chester.

"You might as well," he replied. "I think you've practiced enough that you should be able to come back. I'm sure your folks are very worried about you." He picked me up in his hand and gave me a kiss. "I'll be waiting for you here. Take as long as you need."

As Chester made a motion to put me back on the ground, a bolt of bright blue lightning shot out of the sky and struck the portal. The portal exploded outward in a huge wave and showered us in blue sparks. In a flash, the portal expanded exponentially and sucked up Chester, with me still in his hand. It all happened so quickly, neither of us fully comprehended what happened.

Chester toppled out of the portal and fell with a tremendous crash on his rear end in an open field. I tumbled out of his hand a short distance and landed on the ground in between his legs. The portal, after spitting us out, fizzled with a stream of sparks and vanished. I stood up, dusted off my pants, and surveyed our surroundings. My parent's house wasn't far from us; I needed to rush over there and explain to them what was going on before they saw the giant in their backyard and freaked out. I had no doubt Chester shook the whole house when he fell on the ground with his huge bulk.

"H-hey..." Chester spoke up. I looked up at his face. He looked completely bewildered to the point of almost fear. "What just happened? Why... everything is so small!" He coiled his fingers around a nearby tree, which did indeed look diminutive next to his giant hand. I recognized how confused he must be, since he had never been in a human-sized world before. I recalled how difficult it had been for me to adjust to the Land of Giants, where everything was so big.

"Chester," I explained slowly, "this is the human realm." I pointed toward the house. "My parents live in there. They are going to panic if they see you." The house probably wouldn't even come up to his knees if he stood up. "Just... stay here for a minute. Don't get up."

Chester had a look of increasing alarm in his eyes but nodded at my words. He absently ran his fingers through the field of corn next to him, like a regular person might run his hand through grass. I didn't have time to reassure him; I needed to get to the house. I started to run in that direction, but I was too late. My dad had already come out with a big shotgun, with my mom following close behind. I waved my hands above my head to get their attention.

"Dad! Mom! Everything is okay!" I yelled in an effort to deescalate the situation.

"Jackie!" they shouted in unison. A rush of emotions cycled over their faces, but I noticed fear was dominant. "Over here! Hurry, run!" My father rushed towards me with urgency, brandishing his weapon towards Chester. He raised the gun to his eye to aim, and put his finger on the trigger.

"No, Dad! Don't shoot!" I screamed at him. My mother embraced me and forced me behind her, as if she by herself could protect me from the immense giant in front of us. Seeing Chester from their perspective, I could understand how terrified they were. In response to my words, my dad cautiously lowered his weapon, not taking his eyes off the giant. I heard aggressive barks and growls and saw their two pet dogs had joined us too.

"He's friendly," I clarified. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. He saved my life." My parents looked at me in shock, then back at Chester. The dogs continued to charge towards him, barking fearlessly. The giant carefully reached out to the dogs, palm up, and let them smell his hand. The dogs sniffed, wagged their tails, barked, and ran circles excitedly around him. Seeing that their dogs weren't crushed to a pulp or swiped up and eaten, my parents lowered their guard slightly, but were still on high alert.

"Jackie, where have you been all this time? You've been missing for weeks. We thought you were..." My mom couldn't bring herself to finish. I gave her a hug and she cried. My dad wrapped his arm around both of us, but still held the shotgun in his other hand, ready to use it if needed.

"It's a long story," I said. "Anyways... I guess I should introduce you to my boyfriend. This is Chester." My parents stared at me, and then at Chester, and then back at me, incredulous. Chester sat motionless, a light blush spreading on his cheeks. He was still baffled by his miniscule surroundings and hadn't yet recovered.

"You can't be serious," my mom cried, gaping. My dad furrowed his brow and glared at the giant. This impromptu introduction was not going well at all. Chester still hadn't said anything.

"Chester!" I called. "I wanted to introduce you to my parents, Gerald and Wendy."

When I called his name, Chester finally snapped out of his daze. "Um... h-hello," he greeted them nervously, running his hand through his hair. Of course he knew they were terrified of him, and he was a bit ruffled himself. "It's nice to meet you both." We were standing at an awkwardly far distance away from the giant, but he didn't want to frighten my folks by coming closer. I gripped their hands in mine and encouraged them to move forward. Initially, they both remained rooted to the spot. The dogs ran over to us, wagging their tails, then ran back over to Chester. One of them jumped up on his shoe and began gnawing on his shoelace. The other dog allowed Chester to pet him with his finger. Seeing their dogs act without fear, my parents reluctantly stepped toward the giant.

"Now, listen here, you," my dad lectured, raising a finger in the air, "if what Jackie says is true, you better treat her with nothing but the upmost respect, you understand me?" Despite his aggressive words, and his attempt to project confidence, I could tell my dad was still terribly frightened. He was painfully aware that the giant man could squash him like an insect if angered. His hand at his side was clenched around his gun so tight his knuckles were turning white, and his legs were shaking like jello. Chester must have noticed too, but my dad's effort to act normal put him more at ease.

"Of course, sir," Chester responded, tilting his head in respectful acknowledgement. There was an uncomfortable pause as nobody really knew what to say.

To break the tension, I cleared my throat and spoke up. "Chester has been wonderful to me Dad, you don't have to worry about that." I walked up to him and sat in his palm. He lifted me up to his knee and cradled me securely in his hands. My parents couldn't help staring in wonderment at his incredible size.

"Um... I'd invite you inside, but I d-don't think you'd fit in the h-house," my mom piped up, a tremor in her voice.

"It's alright, it's a nice day today anyways." Unlike the storm we left behind in the Land of Giants, the weather here was warm and sunny. Chester looked down at my mom and smiled. She was hesitant but timidly smiled back. My dad loosened his death grip on his gun. The moment was interrupted by Chester's stomach growling, which caused both my parents to jump in terror. Chester placed his hand on his belly with a pained expression on his face.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

"Aw, are you hungry sweetie? I'll fix you something right up," my mother quickly interjected. She looked at me with worry. "What does he eat?"

"He'll eat anything Mom, don't fret," I answered. "Although, we really ought to be going if he's hungry. I doubt you'd have enough food in the whole house to prepare him a meal. He could probably eat the entire refrigerator." I laughed. My parents were intimidated by the thought of the giant's appetite, and could only manage to titter nervously.

"Before you go, can we speak to you Jackie? In the house?" my dad asked. I nodded, and Chester lowered his huge hand to the ground so I could dismount. My parents and I walked to the house, and the dogs paraded over when they saw us leaving together. Once we got inside, my parents both exhaled shakily and wiped the sweat from their foreheads. I knew they had been afraid at first, but I hadn't realized just how stressed they had been around Chester.

"Is everything okay Jackie? You're not hurt? He's not holding you against your will is he?" The questions poured from their lips like a flood. "Where did he come from? Why did it take you so long to get here? Where were you? And how is he your boyfriend?!"

I took a deep breath, and began the tedious process of explaining to them everything that had transpired. Well, not everything. I didn't tell them about all the times I had been gobbled up, or the little arrangement I had with Chester to control his appetite. I didn't tell them the gruesome details of my kidnapping, and how scared I had been around other giants, or all the dangers I still faced in the Land of Giants. I didn't tell them that giants do in reality eat people, just like in the fairy tales. In fact, I left out so much of the story that I hardly told them anything.

However, I did express to them how caring and gentle Chester had been to me, how he had rescued me from a potentially horrible fate the first night I had found myself amongst giants. I told them about my ability to use magic, and how all this time I had been learning so I could come back and visit them. And, of course, I told them about how my love for Chester had naturally blossomed, and my plans to stay with him in his world, the Land of Giants.

This last point did not sit well with my folks at all, but they knew they couldn't stop me from making my own decisions, and wished me the best. We hugged and said our farewells. My parents gave me a knapsack full of items I would find useful for living in a giant world, including human-sized plates, bowls, and silverware, which I was very grateful for. My mother, despite my protests, also insisted on at least feeding the hungry giant an apple pie she had baked, even though it would barely be more than a crumb to him due to his size.

She brought the pie out to him, along with some leftover roast chicken. She was still frightened of Chester, but her motherly compassion for an empty belly won out. Chester was charmed by the tiny food and tried his best not to scare her. He allowed her to place the roast chicken on the tip of his finger and lapped it up with delight. He carefully plucked the pie from her hands with his thumb and finger and placed it on his tongue, making sure not to accidentally swallow the pie tin with the pie.

"Mmmmm, delicious! My compliments to the chef," Chester remarked, returning to her the empty pie tin. My mother twisted her apron in her hand apprehensively and looked down at her feet.

"Thank you," she answered softly. I gave her a kiss on the cheek, proud of her for being so brave. I kissed my dad too, who had been standing at her side defensively.

"Well, I suppose we ought to be going," I stated. "Love you guys, I'll visit again soon."

"Love you too," my parents affirmed. They looked a bit sad to see me go.

I focused my energy on manifesting another portal and imagined Chester's cottage in my mind's eye. A ball of cobalt sparks appeared and inflated into a portal. I continued to expand the gateway, larger and larger. My parent watched with amazement. The thought occurred to me that I had never on my own created a portal big enough for a giant to pass through. The previous portal had been struck by lightning and became unstable due to the infusion of so much extra electricity. Pushing those concerns aside, I forced more magic into the portal. It had grown large enough for Chester's head to fit through, but not the rest of his body. I started to sweat and struggle. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't get the opening any bigger. The portal flickered and died. I cringed.

We had a serious problem on our hands. I was out of magic now, and might not be capable of making a large enough portal to transport Chester home, even at my full capacity. Chester was hungry, not having eaten a sufficient meal since breakfast. He was a voracious giant, with an empty belly, surrounded by his natural prey, humans. I just hoped he could hold himself in check long enough for us to get back without eating anyone. I made my best attempt to keep calm and act like the issue was only a minor inconvenience.

"Well, I ran out of magic. I'm going to have to rest up and... try again tomorrow. Would it be too much of an imposition for us to stay the night?"

My parents looked up at the huge giant uneasily. "He'll have to sleep outside obviously. It's a good thing we live out in the middle of nowhere," my dad grumbled.

Chester knitted his brow, clearly concerned. He put his hand on his belly and winced slightly. His stomach whined again for food. He looked at me with urgency in his eyes, and I could only frown and shrug my shoulders helplessly. I felt more and more alarmed at the impending crisis that could potentially unfold if I was unsuccessful in casting a giant-sized portal, but I couldn't show it. I didn't want to scare my folks any more than I already had today. Why did Chester always need to eat so damn much?

"Hey, is it okay if I eat one of those?" Chester asked my parents, pointing to a herd of cattle a ways off. They were fenced off in an adjacent field, blissfully unaware of the giant predator nearby as they munched on some hay.

"Uh, sure? I suppose we could slaughter one for you-"

Chester had other plans. Before my mother could finish speaking, the giant stood up to his full height, quelling her into silence. My parents hadn't seen him on his feet yet, and they quaked when they comprehended just how colossal he truly was. He took a single step, making sure not to crush the fence under his boot, and crouched down near the herd. He reached down and snatched up one of the cows in his hand. The cow bellowed in terror, but the giant swiftly put it out of its misery by snapping its neck with his teeth, decapitating the poor creature in the process. He cracked the skull with his molars like a human would crack the shell of a sunflower seed. Next, he tossed the carcass into his mouth and swallowed it, not even bothering to chew.

All the humans present gaped, flabbergasted. Even I was amazed to see him gulp down an entire cow, and I had seen him inhale plenty of meals. Oblivious to how rattled we all were, Chester returned to us and crouched down.

"That'll tide me over for a little while," he announced, licking his lips with satisfaction. My parents could only nod dumbly.

By now, the sun was beginning to set, bathing the farm in a twilight glow. My parents, eager for an excuse to get away from the scary giant, bid us goodnight and retired to their home. They offered me a bed to sleep in indoors, but I declined, opting to stay outside with Chester and keep him company. Luckily, with the summer season, the night was warm, and the stars were bright. Chester bedded down in the open field left fallow, and I settled down in my usual spot on his chest.

Once we were alone and more free to speak, Chester voiced his concerns. "Jackie, do you think you'll be able to cast a portal large enough to transport me?"

"I-I don't know," I confessed. "I hope so."

Chester hesitated before finally choking out, "I'm scared Jackie. I don't want to lose control again. I'm trying to hold it back, but it's a lot harder when I'm hungry."

I rubbed his chest with my hand. "I know Chester. Stay strong, okay? We'll just have to pray for tomorrow. Don't fret." After a pause, I asked him, "why do you always need to eat so much anyways? It's like you can't go without a single meal."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Chester had to laugh. "Have you seen the size of me, woman? It takes a lot of food to fill someone as big as me. My body needs a lot of fuel to survive." He had a point.

I laid my head over Chester's huge heart and gradually drifted off.

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

#g/t fearplay #g/t angst #g/t #giant #giant/tiny #tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #size difference #g/t fluff #the giant #giant men #macro/micro #macro micro #gt writing #gt fluff

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dndfantasygirl · 17 days

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Little Red Rogue (Chapter 8: Graveyard)

Rating: Mature Word count: 3.9k Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named) Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo

Summary: In the middle of an intense battle, the lost souls that inhabit Ruby's mind start to drown her in their agonizing cries.

*Link to AO3 Post

*Link to Previous Chapter

They say I may be making a mistake I would've followed all the way, no matter how far I know when you go down all your darkest roads I would've followed all the way to the graveyard

~Graveyard, Halsey

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Throughout the next few days, Ruby's attempts at reconciliation with Astarion became increasingly desperate. She found herself caught in a relentless cycle of hope and disappointment, her heart weighed down by the weight of his rejection.

Each time she reached out to him, hoping for even the smallest sign of acceptance, she was met with coldness and disdain. Astarion's dismissive words cut deeper with each encounter, leaving her feeling more isolated and misunderstood than ever before.

Despite the pain he caused her, Ruby refused to give up on Astarion. She believed in the goodness she glimpsed beneath his aloof exterior, and she was determined to break through his walls of mistrust.

But as the days passed and Astarion continued to push her away, Ruby's hope began to dwindle. Her once bright optimism dimmed with each rejection, leaving behind a sense of futility that weighed heavily on her soul.

Still, she persisted, offering him soft smiles and attempts at humor in the hopes of melting his icy demeanor. Yet, each gesture seemed to only reinforce his belief that she was better off kept at arm's length.

It pained her to see someone so deeply wounded by past betrayals, so consumed by fear and suspicion that he couldn't recognize the genuine care and concern she offered.

Despite her best efforts, Ruby couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that settled over her like a shroud. It was a bitter realization that no matter how much she cared for him, she couldn't force Astarion to trust her.

However, despite those persistent barriers between them, Ruby couldn't help but cherish the rare moments when she felt a flicker of connection with Astarion. She could sense a glimmer of pride in his eyes when she accomplished something remarkable.

One such moment unfolded amidst the chaos of their journey, as a duergar confronted them about the ownership of a boat they had commandeered. With quick thinking and a daring maneuver, Ruby swiftly dealt with the situation, pushing the duergar off their vessel with a mixture of determination and finesse.

As she glanced back at Astarion in the aftermath, she caught a glimpse of something different in his expression. His eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement, and a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips. In that fleeting moment, they shared a silent acknowledgment of their shared victory.

But as quickly as it came, the moment faded. When their eyes met, Astarion's proud smile dissolved into a scowl, his walls snapping back into place with an almost tangible force.

As they approached the abandoned Sharran temple, now repurposed into a massive forge under the control of the duergar, the oppressive heat enveloped them like a suffocating blanket.

Despite the discomfort and the ominous atmosphere, Ruby remained steadfast in her determination to rescue the enslaved deep gnomes. They had made a promise, and she was not one to break her word, no matter the dangers that lay ahead.

Beside her, Astarion's complaints echoed through the dimly lit corridors. His disdain for their mission was palpable, his every word dripping with sarcasm and irritation. But Ruby paid him little heed, her focus fixed on the task at hand.

The dhampir could sense the weight of the battle looming ahead, the odds stacked against them like mountains ready to crush them.

But Ruby was not one to be deterred by mere probabilities. She had faced insurmountable odds before and emerged victorious, fueled by her unwavering courage. The prospect of a potentially lethal battle only served to ignite the fire burning within her even brighter, driving her forward with a fierce determination.

As the battle began, the unexpected betrayal of some duergar threw the party into chaos. Despite the tempting offer of assistance, Ruby's moral compass remained steadfast, refusing to align herself with those she deemed no better than Nere. Her decision sent shockwaves through the party, but the dhampir remained resolute in her convictions, unwilling to compromise her principles for the sake of a temporary advantage.

Initially, the tide of battle seemed to turn in their favor, as the combined efforts of the party pushed back against Nere's forces. Spells crackled through the air, blades clashed against armor, and cries of triumph mingled with the sounds of anguish.

But then, amidst the chaos, a searing pain lanced through Ruby's skull, sharp and relentless. The echoes of her parents' lost souls reverberated through her mind.

DANGER! LEAVE!

Clutching her ears in agony, Ruby collapsed to the unforgiving stone floor, her senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of pain. Each heartbeat felt like a hammer blow against her skull, threatening to shatter her resolve.

RUBY! DANGER!

Through the haze of agony, Ruby could see her companions locked in their own struggles. Karlach engaged in a fierce battle with a duergar who seemingly matched her in size and strength, their desperate struggle teetering perilously close to the edge of a seething lava pit.

Wyll and Gale fought side by side, their spells weaving a dazzling tapestry of magic as they sought to hold back the tide of enemies advancing upon them. Shadowheart and Lae'zel, despite their differences, fought with a begrudging unity, each one protecting the other's flank as they clashed with their foes.

But amidst the chaos, one notable absence stood out like a gaping wound in their ranks. Astarion was nowhere to be found.

LEAVE! RUBY!

As Ruby's senses teetered on the edge of oblivion, her vision blurred and wavered, the world around her fading into a hazy blur of shapes and shadows. The clamor of battle faded into the background, drowned out by the relentless throbbing of her own heartbeat and the cacophony of voices echoing through her mind.

In the midst of her disorientation, a primal instinct stirred within her, a silent warning that something was amiss. Yet, ensnared in the grip of her own pain, she remained unaware of the danger lurking just beyond her vulnerable form.

A sinister presence slinked through the shadows, a sadistic drow with malice gleaming in his eyes. With calculated precision, he closed in on her, his movements silent and predatory.

LEAVE! DANGER!

But even as the drow's malevolent presence drew near, Ruby's attention was drawn elsewhere, her gaze locking onto a figure emerging from the chaos of battle. Astarion, who had seemingly vanished in their time of need, stood before her, his form illuminated by the flickering light of the forge.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as their eyes met, a silent exchange passing between them that transcended the chaos and turmoil surrounding them. Ruby's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a rush of emotions flooding her senses with a dizzying intensity.

RUBY! LEAVE!

As the haze of pain began to recede, Ruby's bleary vision cleared just in time to witness a scene that would forever be etched into her memory. Through the fog of agony, she watched in disbelief as Astarion, his features contorted with rage, took swift and decisive action.

With a fluid motion, he drew back the string of his bow, his aim seemingly directed at her. Fear gripped her heart as she braced herself for the impact, but to her astonishment, the arrow sailed past her, finding its mark in the form of an approaching figure.

Before Ruby could fully comprehend what was happening, Astarion leaped over her, moving with a speed and precision that bordered on the supernatural. With grace, he closed the distance between himself and Nere, driving a dagger deep into the drow's throat.

The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Ruby watched in silence as he unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes, each one driven by a primal fury that seemed to consume him from within.

By the time Astarion ceased his assault, Nere lay lifeless at his feet. But even in the aftermath of the violence, there was a flicker of something unexpected in Astarion's eyes—a hint of concern, a trace of vulnerability that belied his stoic facade.

Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms, his movements surprisingly gentle as he carried her out of the ongoing battle.

For Ruby, it was a moment of profound disbelief, a surreal convergence of violence and tenderness that defied all logic. As Astarion cradled her close, the weight of the pain and turmoil that had consumed her mind began to lift, replaced by a sense of peace and clarity. As quickly as it had begun, the voices in her head fell silent.

With a tenderness that belied his usual aloof demeanor, Astarion gently placed her down, ensuring she was safely out of harm's way. Ruby couldn't help but watch him with a mixture of awe and confusion.

As he hovered over her, concern etched into every line of his face, Ruby found herself trapped in his gaze, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes without the need for words. In that moment, she saw something in Astarion's eyes that took her breath away—a depth of feeling that she had never dared to imagine.

For a heartbeat, their faces were mere inches apart. Ruby's heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts racing as she struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within her.

Astarion's gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability shimmering in the depths of his eyes. It was a fleeting moment of honesty, a glimpse behind the mask of indifference he so often wore.

But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, shattered by the awkward clearing of Astarion's throat. Ruby's head spun with a dizzying whirlwind of unwanted thoughts, her mind racing to process the implications of what had just transpired.

He cared about her. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, electrifying every nerve in her body. Despite his sharp tongue and biting sarcasm, Astarion had chosen to save her life when she was most vulnerable, instead of leaving her to fend for herself amidst the chaos of battle.

She could no longer deny the truth that had been lurking in the depths of her heart for far too long.

Her feelings for Astarion had never been purely platonic; they ran far deeper than mere friendship. From the moment she first laid eyes on him, her heart had quickened, a telltale sign of the undeniable attraction she felt towards him.

With each passing encounter, her feelings had only grown stronger, blossoming into something she could no longer ignore. The way he moved, the sound of his voice, the enigmatic gleam in his eyes—every aspect of him stirred something within her, igniting a flame of desire that burned brighter with each passing day.

But amidst the turmoil of her emotions, a nagging doubt crept into her mind. Even if she were to lay bare her heart before him, would Astarion ever be capable of reciprocating her feelings? Would he ever understand the depth of her feelings, or would he remain forever ensnared by the shadows of his own past?

Fuck it.

As Astarion stood poised to retreat into the shadows once more, Ruby refused to let him slip away. With a sudden surge of courage, she reached out and caught the sleeve of his armor, her touch gentle yet firm, anchoring him to the present moment.

As she drew him closer, her heart pounding in her chest, Ruby felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins. With a trembling hand, she cupped his cheek, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a delicate touch.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange. And then, without a word spoken, without hesitation, Astarion closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a searing kiss.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, their bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace. Astarion's arms encircled her, pulling her closer as if afraid to let her go. Their lips moved together in a dance of longing and desire.

With each passing second, their kiss deepened, the world around them continuing to fade into oblivion. Ruby's fingers tangled in Astarion's curls, the soft strands slipping through her touch like silk.

And then, as if a dam had burst within her, a single tear trickled down Ruby's cheek. It wasn't for herself that she wept, but for Astarion—for the pain he had endured, for the darkness that threatened to consume him whole. She could see it do so in every little thing he did.

In that moment, all she wanted was to shield him from the shadows that haunted his past, to offer him the solace and comfort he so desperately craved. Her only hope was that their burgeoning connection, their tender kiss, was untainted by the ghosts that lingered in the recesses of his mind.

But as quickly as it had begun, their embrace was shattered by Astarion's sudden withdrawal. Without a word, he broke away from her, his expression unreadable as he turned and disappeared into the fray of battle once more.

For a moment, Ruby sat there, dazed and disoriented, her lips still tingling from the ghost of his touch. She absentmindedly brushed her fingertips against her mouth, a stunned realization dawning upon her—she had just experienced her first kiss, a moment of pure and unadulterated intimacy with someone she cared for.

With a deep breath, Ruby shook off her reverie and steeled herself for the fight ahead. As she joined her companions in the heat of battle, her heart still racing with the memory of their stolen moment, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

----------------------------------------

As the echoes of battle gradually faded into the distance, leaving behind only the lingering scent of smoke and the quiet hum of victory, the companions found themselves standing amidst the aftermath of their hard-won triumph. But amidst the camaraderie and relief that permeated the air, one shadow loomed large over the group—the unsettling silence that hung between Ruby and Astarion. Despite the euphoria of their victory, he had remained distant, his usual charm replaced by an impenetrable wall of silence.

As they set up camp in the corridor that separated the Grymforge from the Shadow-Cursed Lands, Ruby couldn't shake the sense of unease that gnawed at her insides. She stole glances in Astarion's direction, hoping for some sign, some indication that their stolen moment had meant something to him, but he remained as enigmatic as ever, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of their campfire.

Each passing moment only served to deepen Ruby's uncertainty, leaving her to wonder if their kiss had been nothing more than a fleeting impulse, a momentary lapse in Astarion's guarded facade. But even as doubt gnawed at her heart, Ruby refused to give in to despair.

As she emerged from the confines of her tent into the chilly embrace of the night, a sense of solitude enveloped her like a shroud. The camp lay silent and still, the crackling embers of their extinguished fire casting long shadows across the corridor that separated them from the ominous expanse of the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

Despite the proximity of the Grymforge, whose heat still lingered in the air, the biting cold of the surrounding landscape seemed to seep into her bones, leaving her shivering despite the thick blanket draped over her shoulders.

She spotted Astarion sitting in front of his own tent, his gaze fixed on some unseen horizon, lost in the depths of his own thoughts. As she approached him, her footsteps muffled by the soft crunch of frost-covered earth beneath her boots, she couldn't help but notice the tremors that racked his slender frame, invisible to all but the keenest observer.

Without a word, Ruby settled down beside him, the warmth of her presence a stark contrast to the icy chill of the night. In a gesture of silent empathy, she carefully draped one side of her blanket around his shoulders, enveloping him in its comforting embrace.

Astarion tensed at her touch, his muscles coiled with an instinctual wariness born of a lifetime spent on the fringes of society. But as the soft fabric of the blanket enveloped him, he gradually relaxed, the tension seeping from his body like water from a sponge.

"You'll catch a cold out here wearing nothing but thin camp clothes, you do realize that, don't you?" she teased, her tone playful yet affectionate.

To her surprise, she thought she caught a faint chuckle escaping from Astarion's lips.

"In case you've forgotten, darling, I am dead. I don't catch colds," he quipped in response, his voice laced with a wry humor that belied the darkness lurking within him.

Ruby couldn't help but chuckle softly at his retort, her amusement mingling with a genuine fondness for the vampire spawn at her side. With a gentle nudge, she leaned closer to him, the warmth of their shared laughter a welcome respite from the chill of the night.

"Lucky you," she murmured.

"Lucky me, indeed," Astarion replied, his voice tinged with a wistful note that didn't escape Ruby's notice.

As she studied the expression on his face, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart. Despite the facade of indifference he often wore like armor, she could see the flicker of discomfort that shadowed his features, the faint lines of disgust etched into his brow.

"What's wrong?" she pressed gently, her voice soft with concern. With a quick motion, she pulled her hair to one shoulder and craned her neck, offering herself to him without hesitation. "Are you hungry? Feed, I'll be okay," she reassured him, her smile widening as their eyes met. "I promise."

Astarion let out a long sigh, the sound heavy with the weight of his conflicting emotions. "I... appreciate the offer, Ruby. I truly do, but-"

But before he could finish, she lowered her gaze, her hand instinctively falling away from her neck as she searched his face for answers. "What?" she prompted softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"No, no. Not like that, my dear," he clarified hastily, as if desperate to dispel any misunderstanding. "I fed on those disgusting duergar earlier. I would've gladly drank your blood over theirs, but unfortunately, they were my only options at the time."

As Ruby's thoughts continued to whirl in the aftermath of their kiss, the memory played over and over in her mind like a relentless echo, refusing to fade into the background. With each repetition, the intensity of her emotions grew, mingling with a sense of confusion and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm her.

"What happened earlier?" she blurted out, unable to contain the torrent of questions that swirled within her. Heat rose to her cheeks, casting a crimson hue across her face as she turned away from Astarion, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

"Why did you kiss me? Why did I kiss you? I told you we were friends and that's all," she stammered, the words tumbling from her lips in a jumble of confusion and self-doubt. She braced herself for his response, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for some semblance of clarity to emerge from the chaos of her thoughts.

When she finally mustered the courage to turn back around, she was met with an unreadable yet strangely soft expression on Astarion's face. His features were a mask of enigma, his eyes betraying nothing of the tumultuous emotions that undoubtedly raged within him. Yet despite his silence, there was a tenderness in his gaze that sent a shiver down Ruby's spine.

But still, he said nothing, leaving Ruby to grapple with the weight of her own words in the deafening silence that stretched between them. She felt herself shrinking, folding into herself as the weight of her confession settled upon her shoulders like a heavy burden.

"That was my first kiss, ya know?" she admitted softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "28 years old and never been kissed."

The admission hung in the air like a delicate thread, vulnerable yet resilient in its honesty. In that moment, Ruby felt exposed, laid bare before Astarion in a way she had never dared to be before.

Astarion let out another sigh, the sound a weary exhalation of breath that spoke volumes of the turmoil that churned within him. "Well, since we're out here spilling our secrets," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "You were my first, too."

Ruby's heart skipped a beat at his confession, a rush of conflicting emotions washing over her in a dizzying wave. She knew exactly what he was referring to—the night they escaped the nautiloid, when she allowed him to feed on her in a moment of desperation and hunger. He had only ever fed on animals before, mostly sickly or dead rats.

"I miss being able to talk to you like this," Ruby confessed. Crimson eyes widened in surprise at her words, a flicker of something indefinable crossing the vampire spawn's features.

"Listen, I don't know everything you're going through right now," she continued, her tone gentle yet firm, "and I don't understand why I kissed you or why you kissed me, and that's okay if you don't either. But there's one thing I do know for a fact; we're friends, okay? You can talk to me about anything. I won't judge you."

Astarion's scoff cut through the air like a blade, his disbelief palpable as he shook his head in resignation. "Darling, if you knew of half the horrors I caused in my two centuries as a vampire spawn, you'd be gone within seconds."

Ruby's heart clenched at his words, the weight of his confession bearing down on her like a heavy burden. But she refused to let his past define him, to allow the shadows of his history to obscure the light that still burned within him.

"Whatever you did, Astarion. It wasn't by choice," she insisted, her voice unwavering in its conviction. With a hesitant motion, she leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

As she unwrapped herself from the blanket, she draped it further around Astarion's trembling form, offering him the warmth and comfort he so desperately needed. "You're not alone in this. Not anymore," she whispered, her words a gentle promise that echoed through the night air.

With a soft smile, she met his gaze, finding solace in the awe that shimmered in his eyes. In that moment, she saw a glimmer of hope within him.

"Sleep well, Aestar," she murmured, turning away.

As she made her way back toward her tent, she felt Astarion's gaze lingering on her retreating figure, his shock evident in the furrow of his brow. But she didn't look back, trusting that her words had found their mark, that the seeds of understanding she had planted within his heart would one day blossom into something beautiful and true.

And as she settled into her bedroll, wrapped in the warmth of it and the quiet solace of her own thoughts, she allowed herself to believe—for just a moment—that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way through the darkness together.

#astarion x tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion and tav #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #named tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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inkedinfantasy · 9 months

Text

My FFXIV Swap gift for @faunflower! It was really cool getting to learn more about Lou; I hope I did her justice! ^_^

Under the cut since it got kinda long: some Emet-Selch POV of the Rak'tika segment of Shadowbringers MSQ. 👀

Another day, another jaunt into the far corners of Norvrandt following in the footsteps of the Warrior of Light and his companions.

Not for long, of course. He was still quite unwelcome among their party, and while that might not ordinarily deter him, being confronted by the Night’s Blessed did. He was here to observe, after all, not share in their hapless conflicts with the First’s residents. And so he withdrew, content to watch from afar, at least until they managed to track down Rak’tika’s Lightwarden.

He had no doubt they’d find it, between the Warrior of Light’s uncommon tenacity and Lou’s…ambition? Audacity? Whatever you wished to call it. It was simply a matter of time until the lot of them could manage to put all the pieces together. For him, at least, all that meant was another exceptionally dull wait.

He watched idly as the Warrior and his friends ran hither and yon playing the good little ever-dutiful heroes. He wondered if Lou was regretting her insistence on traveling with them yet.

Probably not. Like called to like with this self-sacrificial adventurer sort, solving all the star’s problems with endless patience and enthusiasm. Most likely she was having the time of her life.

He certainly lacked the patience to even keep observing such things secondhand. He retreated further into the forest, nearer to the Viis village where he could doze off and await their coming once they worked out how to avoid being skewered by Ronka’s guardians.

It was just his luck that he was about to drift off when he spotted familiar figures in the distance, heading in the direction of the village. Just as expected, the Viis of Fanow did not suffer any trespassers to approach, descending on the group as soon as they’d trekked far enough into the forest.

The first warrior to attempt to land a blow met only Lou’s shield. The attacker leapt back defensively, spear still at the ready, but Lou made no move to counterattack, shouting something he couldn’t make out from his distance. She appeared to be attempting to talk the Viis down, a hand held out placatingly. The Viis warrior relaxed her stance minutely, sheathing her weapon entirely when the Miqo’te woman presented a seal they had surely gone to exhaustive lengths to acquire.

Their attackers appeased, they sheathed their weapons and continued down the path of azure flowers, approaching close enough now to make out what they were saying.

“‘Tis a boon to have a cooler head prevail, met so oft as we are with strife,” the Elezen man was remarking to Lou.

“A cooler head” wasn’t the phrase he’d use to describe the woman who’d tried to take on a Lightwarden singlehandedly armed only with a scavenged sword and a suicidal plot. Overconfident, perhaps. Rash, even. But level-headed? He scoffed to himself.

Still, progress was progress. Even as he watched them pass, he did not deign to rise from his spot, certain by now it would still be some time before they managed to accomplish anything of note.

* * *

Waiting, waiting, waiting. One of the truest curses of immortality in this shattered world was the sheer tedium of it, if you asked him. The Warrior and his allies had set off to traipse through yet more ruins, having pinpointed the Lightwarden’s location and lacking only the means to get there. Presumably, they had achieved something, if they were indeed the source of the brief fluctuation he’d felt in the Lifestream.

Half asleep once more as he was, he had neglected to note the quiet figures approaching until they were already upon him. A misstep, for all that there was naught in this forest that could truly pose a threat to him. He briefly lamented the futility of his search for even the most fleeting peace and quiet before opening his eyes to find a spear already at his throat.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” the Viis warrior demanded.

“Are you with the allies of Ronka?” another asked, a touch less suspiciously.

He glanced towards Fanow and smirked. “I suppose you could say that."

* * *

The mood was somber as he was marched into Fanow proper, the Viis declaring that they had apprehended him, taking him as an associate. The gunbreaker scoffed loudly at the prospect.

For his part, he merely took the scene in, eyebrow raised. “I needn’t be an associate to hear the clamor you’ve been raising all across the forest. What trouble have you gotten into this time?”

The quiet stretched on, nobody wanting to put it into words. Lou was the one that finally spoke up, explaining the whole story. The Eulmorans. The antidote. Their friend’s sacrifice.

Unfortunate, but hardly an unexpected outcome, considering the usual nature of their escapades. “I see. My condolences.”

“There was more.”

All attention snapped to the Warrior of Light, no one seeming to have expected him to speak up. He picked up the account where Lou had left off, mentioning the gale of wind that had come from the pit where their friend had fallen, explaining the spell she had saved herself with once before.

“How very interesting. I had thought I sensed a disturbance to the Lifestream just earlier.” He paused. “Only the once, mind you. Suggesting she is still adrift.”

At that faces fell once more, the brief spark of hope that had lit in Lou’s eyes dying out. As they knew well, if they had dealt with this spell before, locating one particular soul amidst the Lifestream would be an impossible task for any one of them, no matter their skill with magic.

However…

He affected a put-upon sigh. “Very well, then. I’ll go and fetch her.”

The gunbreaker rounded on him immediately. “And just why in the hells should we trust—”

“You could get her out? Truly?”

Lou’s voice interrupted the man’s snarl, and a heavy, charged silence descended.

“I can,” he said. “An unambiguously helpful gesture as a peace offering, we can call it, hmm? What say you?”

This time, she hesitated, looking to the tense, unhappy group. “If we have the chance to save her, we should take it,” she offered softly.

The gunbreaker sighed. “I suppose we’ve no other options.”

“Splendid. Now, take this.” He summoned a small aetherial lamp with a snap of creation magic. “You’ll need to find a suitable spot with strong enough resonance with the Lifestream. This will glow bright and steady when you find one. When you do, all you need to do is whistle.” He held the lamp out in Lou’s direction.

Lou studied his face with a serious expression, brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a flat, wary line as she accepted it from him, their fingers just barely brushing as he handed it over. He offered her only a wry smile in return, and she brushed past him towards the village’s exit without saying anything more, the others following in her wake in equal silence.

It was only a few minutes before he heard her piercing whistle ring out, and he arrived to find the lot of them crowded suspiciously around the spot that she had chosen, watching his approach with distrustful eyes.

“Now then, some space, if you please.” He tapped into his power, reaching out for the familiar flow of the Lifestream, quickly latching on to a robust, smooth current. Lou had chosen well, it seemed.

He closed his eyes, his focus sharpening, deepening. With two Wardens absorbed, the Warrior of Light’s soul was already a veritable beacon, scorching and bleaching away the color of every other soul in his vicinity. Even for someone with his sight, it took no small amount of concentration to pick out any other tiny sparks of color amidst the all-consuming Light. Casting his awareness into the Lifestream dulled its brilliance ever so slightly, enough to pick out their Miqo’te friend’s soul and summon it forth.

She appeared in a radiant glow that near-mirrored the Warrior’s soul, the lights of the others’ souls like moths to a flame as they rushed forth at once to tend to her.

Withdrawing his awareness back to the physical realm, the small constellation of souls surrounding him winked back into sharper view, gaining definition, his concentration holding just enough to make them out.

He observed them, idly, and froze.

Just for a moment, a split second before he released the hold on his soul sight, he could have sworn he spotted a color that he had not seen for a long, long, time, a color he would have known anywhere.

His eyes snapped open, and his gaze immediately met blue eyes staring at him warily.

It had been Lou’s soul he was staring at.

She’d quickly turned her attention back to the others, but he still felt off-kilter, whatever inane, sentimental exchange they were having buzzing in his periphery without comprehension. If they would only be quiet…

“And is there anything you’d like to say to me?” he interjected before they could keep going on. “Some word of thanks, perhaps?”

He’d slid right back into lofty and irritable, wishing he could catch another glimpse of what he’d seen—what he thought he’d seen—through the overwhelming brightness of the Warrior’s aether.

The Miqo’te woman at least had the decency to thank him, though the conversation after that turned to the Qitana Ravel and Rak’tika’s Lightwarden. The Warrior and his companions set off back towards Fanow, none of them eager to remain in his presence, friendly gesture or no. Only Lou lingered, arms folded, staring resolutely at the ground with a pensive expression.

Unable to help himself, he reached for his soul sight once more, colors flaring to life in more distinctness with the Warrior’s distance. With this new clarity, there was no denying it. Her soul was the precise color of Azem’s, and seeing it again so near made his heart clench in icy shock.

“Thank you.”

Lou’s voice shattered his sudden crisis, and he realized she was staring at him again. He schooled his expression into something dry and composed. “Uncritical gratitude? I may faint dead away on the spot.”

“I’m trying to be polite, you know. I’m grateful you saved Y’shtola, and it means a lot to me—to us—that you’d offer.”

“Hmm, I’m not certain your friends would share the sentiment, but it is most heartening to hear, nevertheless,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest theatrically.

She scoffed, but hid the faintest hint of a smile.

* * *

And just like that, mere bells after unceremoniously pulling one of their own from the Lifestream, the Warrior of Light and his companions had felled another Lightwarden. No one could say they lacked dedication, to be sure.

He had expected that dedication would carry them out of the Qitana Ravel promptly once their business was concluded, self-righteously satisfied with a job well done and ready to start their hunt anew.

Instead, they continued deeper into the ruins.

Honestly. He’d spent an age painstakingly making his way through the decrepit tunnels snaking all throughout the temple only to find them lingering over a room of old murals. He could hear their conversation echoing off the stone well before he even entered the chamber, speculating about the age of the paint and ancient wisdom or some such.

Well. If they were so interested in history, he had a thing or two he could tell them.

And perhaps, if he were lucky, Lou would find the sound of it a bit familiar.

* * *

They’d taken the revelation poorly, as he’d expected they would. It mattered little. They could carry on in their hushed, concerned murmurs about the truth of Hydaelyn’s nature; theirs were not the thoughts he cared to hear.

Lou, in stark contrast to the others, had not appeared particularly shaken by the idea. “Primal” did not carry the same weight for her, being as she was a native of the First, he supposed. As the others carried on with their fretting, she had turned her attention back to the murals, staring at the crude, faded depiction of Amaurot on the wall, entirely absorbed in the image. Her expression was not quite recognition, but something near enough to it to encourage him.

Paying the others no more mind, he sidled up behind her. “Something catch your eye?” he murmured.

She let out a startled gasp and drew back. “Something catch yours?” she countered. “Skulking around like that?”

“Merely taking in the artwork.” He looked up at the mural she had been studying, examining it as if he had not seen it countless times before, as if he could not recreate it from memory. “Ah, the glorious city of Amaurot. When the world was whole, you could find no finer place on the star.”

“Is that so?” Her tone was skeptical. “Did you look?”

It was cheeky and presumptuous and such an Azem question that he nearly laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Amaurot was my home, but circumstances led me to see more of the star than most.”

“Circumstances? Of what sort?” This had captured her attention, her tone holding a hint of interest, and that, too, was achingly familiar. He dared to push further.

“The circumstances were not a what but a who. There was…a dear friend of mine who was ever getting themselves into trouble, and would call upon me for aid wherever they might have been. They were a traveler, a representative of our people to the rest of the star.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, almost to herself.

“It was,” he said, far more quietly. His gaze remained fixed on the mural, but he could feel her watching him, truly examining him for the first time since they’d met.

“You followed us down here,” she said at last. “You went to the trouble of recounting the stories of all these paintings.” “I did,” he said. “And?”

“You want to remember. You want us to remember.”

He said nothing.

She sighed, a hint of disappointment in the sound. “If you would speak about the world as you remember it, would you tell me more of the places you’ve seen?” she asked softly.

The voices echoing off the cavern’s walls grew suddenly louder, the sound of feet scraping against stone approaching them. He did not need to turn back to feel the weight of several other gazes on him. He turned to face Lou instead, offering a small smile. “Perhaps later. It would seem you have other places to be.”

Her eyes darted past him to the others and back to his face. “I will hold you to that, Emet-Selch.”

They parted there, Lou exiting with the others without another word.

He lingered a moment longer, casting one last glance over each of the murals. The images had clearly been foreign to her, but she was full of questions after seeing them, which was almost more than he’d dared to hope. It was yet one more incentive to ingratiate himself to the Warrior’s companions, to see what might be uncovered should she continue to ponder.

He had spent countless lifetimes without so much as a hope of ever finding something like this. He could stand to wait a little longer.

#ffxiv #ffxivswap #shadowbringers #my writing

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sunkissedfawn · 2 days

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The Death of My Father

By Steve Martin

In his death, my father, Glenn Vernon Martin, did something he could not do in life. He brought our family together.

After he died at age 83, many of his friends told me how much they loved him—how generous he was, how outgoing, how funny, how caring. I was surprised at these descriptions. During my teenage years, there was little said to me that was not criticism. I remember him as angry. But now, ten years after his death, I recall events that seem to contradict my memory of him. When I was 16, he handed down to me the family’s 1957 Chevy. Neither one of us knew at the time that it was the coolest car anyone my age could have. When I was in the third grade he proudly accompanied me to the school tumbling contest where I won first prize. One day, while I was in single digits, he suggested we play catch in the front yard. This offer to spend time together was so anomalous that I didn’t quite understand what I was supposed to do.

When I graduated from high school, my father offered to buy me a tuxedo. I refused because my father always shunned gifts. I felt with my refusal, that somehow in a convoluted, perverse logic, I was being a good son. I wish now that I could have let him buy me a tuxedo, let him be a dad.

My father sold real estate but he wanted to be in show business. I was probably five years old when I saw him in a bit part at the Call Board theater on Melrose Place in Hollywood. He came on in the second act and served a drink. The theater existed until a few years ago and is now finally defunct and, I believe, a lamp shop.

My father’s attitude toward my show business accomplishments was critical. After my first appearance on Saturday Night Live in 1976, he wrote a bad review of me in the newsletter of the Newport Board of Realtors where he was president. Later, he related this news to me slightly shamefaced, and said that after it appeared, his best friend came into his office holding the paper, placed it on his desk, and shook his head sternly, indicating a wordless “no.”

In the early ’80s, a close friend of mine, whose own father was killed walking across a street and whose mother committed suicide on Mother’s Day, said that if I had anything to work out with my parents, I should do it now, because one day that opportunity would be over. When I heard this remark, I had no idea that I would ever want to work anything out with them, that, in fact, there was anything to work out at all. But it stewed in my brain for years, and soon I decided to try and get to know my parents. I took them to lunch every Sunday I could, and would goad them into talking.

It was our routine that after I drove them home from our lunches, my mother and father, now in their 80s, would walk me to the car. I would kiss my mother on the cheek and my father and I would wave or awkwardly say goodbye. But this time we hugged each other and he whispered, “I love you,” with a voice barely audible. This would be the first time these words were ever spoken between us. I returned the phrase with the same awkward, broken delivery.

As my father ailed, he grew more irritable. He made unreasonable demands, such as waking his 24-hour help and insisting that they take him for drives at three a.m., as it was the only way he could relax. He also became heartrendingly emotional. He could be in the middle of a story and begin to laugh, which would provoke sudden tears, making him unable to continue.

In his early 80s, my father’s health declined further and he became bedridden. There must be an instinct about when the end is near, as we all found ourselves gathered at my parents’ home in Orange County, California. I walked into the house they had lived in for 35 years and my weeping sister said, “He’s saying goodbye to everyone.”

A hospice nurse said to me, “This is when it all happens.” I didn’t know what she meant, but soon I did.

I walked into the bedroom where he lay, his mind alert but his body failing. He said, almost buoyantly, “I’m ready now.” I understood that his intensifying rage of the last few years had been against death and now his resistance was abating. I stood at the end of the bed and we looked into each other’s eyes for a long, unbroken time. At last he said, “You did everything I wanted to do.”

I said the truth: “I did it for you.”

Looking back, I’m sure that we both had different interpretations of what I meant.

I sat on the edge of the bed and another silence fell over us. Then he said, “I wish I could cry, I wish I could cry.”

At first, I took this as a comment on his condition but am forever thankful that I pushed on. “What do you want to cry about?” I finally said.

“For all the love I received and couldn’t return.”

He had kept this secret, his desire to love his family, from me and from my mother his whole life. It was as though an early misstep had kept us forever out of stride. Now, two days from his death, our pace was aligning and we were able to speak.

My father’s death has a thousand endings. I continue to absorb its messages and meanings. He stripped death of its spooky morbidity and made it tangible and passionate. He prepared me in some way for my own death. He showed me the responsibility of the living to the dying. But the most enduring thought was expressed by my sister, Melinda. She told me she had learned something from all this. I asked her what it was. She said, “Nobody should have to die alone.”

#steve martin #story #article #quote #please read

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movietonight · 2 years

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Since it’s still Disability Pride Month I decided to share this relevant 2008 interview between blind journalist David Block and David Ogden Stiers

David Ogden Stiers’ impressive 30 plus year acting career spans Broadway,

concert halls, movies and television. He has worked with Hollywood

A-listers such as Woody Allen, Tom Hanks, and Jim Carrey. He has been the

Associate Conductor for the Newport Symphony Orchestra for over 15 years.

He has also lent his distinctive voice to numerous PBS documentaries and

the 2006 motion picture Lady in the Water. However, despite his remarkable

and varied career, he is probably best remembered for his brilliant

portrayal of the tough, yet sometimes sensitive war-time physician, Major

Charles Emerson Winchester III on M*A*S*H from 1977 through 1983.

Stiers’ illustrious career makes him a household name and face. But, what

fans may not know about him is that he stuttered throughout his childhood,

adolescence, and even into his early acting career. Stiers said that being

an actor helped cure him.

“I didn’t stutter when the lines were written for me,” said Stiers.

“Without lines to read was another story. One day, I noticed that I wasn’t

stuttering anymore, with or without lines. I overcame it by not giving up,

by continuing to play roles, and by overcoming my fear of saying something

wrong, or sounding stupid.”

The fact that he stuttered was not his sole reason for compassionately

portraying people with disabilities.

Stiers said: “The task of loving people doesn’t have to do with their worst

aspects. It has to do with their best aspects. My feeling, we’re all the

same person but differently expressed. There’s some things I can do others

can’t, vise versa. We’re all accomplished. We’re all on the earth, and the

more we help each other get our tasks accomplished, the better our lives.”

This was exuded when he portrayed Dan Franklin, a special education teacher

in the 1977 movie, A Circle of Children. One of the themes of the movie

included special education teachers helping autistic children reach their

full potential.

While preparing for the movie the cast visited a classroom for autistic

children.

“We sat in the class with them,” said Stiers. “We sat on the floor with the

class. We did a lot with them.”

None of the children who appeared in the movie were autistic.

Being in the movie was not the only time that Stiers

interacted with autistic people. While on M*A*S*H, Stiers and other cast

members frequently interacted with William Christopher’s autistic son, Ned.

Christopher, who was the compassionate Father Mulcahy on M*A*SH, often

brought Ned to the set.

“Ned was beginning to function pretty well,” said Stiers. “Whenever Ned

felt comfortable enough to come over to a group of people who were talking,

he was immediately included. Ned was an intelligent young man who thought

at a rate of speed that I could never do.”

In 1976 and 1977 Stiers guest starred on The Mary Tyler Moore show, three

times, portraying the WJM Station Manager Mel Price, who happened to

stutter. At the time, Stiers stopped stuttering.

“I auditioned for the role and because it was terribly easy for me to

stutter realistically, they hired me.”

Stiers summed up Mel Price as being a falsely nice person. Stiers said that

this was particularly evident in episode 157, “Look at Us, We’re Walking.”

In that show, Mary Richards (Mary Tyler Moore) and Lou Grant (Ed Asner)

told Mel Price that if they didn’t get a raise, they’d quit. Price refused

and they walked out. At the end of the episode, Price asked them to return

and he even promised them a raise.

Stiers said: “that episode was like a forecast of what was to come in

corporate America. ‘You put in some good work; we’ll kill your 401k. If you

don’t like that, if you get upset and walk away, we won’t care. We’ll hire

someone better qualified for less money. If you want to go, then go!’

That’s pretty much how I view corporate business now. I don’t think that

they care about middle management or medium numbers staff.”

While on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Stiers learned from the M*A*S*H writers

and producers that Larry Linville, who played Major Frank Burns, was

leaving the series and they hired Stiers to replace him.

“They wanted to keep the character number in tact,” said Stiers.

Although there were a number of episodes when Winchester was incredibly

benevolent, two of them dealt with him helping disabled soldiers.

In episode 188, “Morale Victory,” Winchester was kind to Private David

Sheridan (James Stephens) who thought that his dream of being a concert

pianist was ruined because of his permanently injured hand. Winchester

showed Sheridan that he could still pursue a meaningful music career, and

that his dream could never be silenced unless he allowed it to be.

“That episode was actually an idea and a present from Loretta Swit,” said

Stiers. Swit, who played Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan, had the idea

of having an affair with Private Sheridan but changed her mind because her

character had had flings with other wounded

Stiers said that the producers did not develop that episode because Stiers

used to stutter or because he portrayed Mel Price.

soldiers. Swit wondered who else could have a rapport with him. She knew

that Stiers studied at Julliard, so he became her obvious choice. She took

her idea to the producers and they liked it.

“They told me this was from Loretta,” said Stiers. “That was the hardest I

ever hugged her.”

“There are those serendipitous overlap realities that don’t actually know

one another,” said Stiers.

In 1987, four years after M*A*S*H ended, Stiers appeared on Matlock in

episode 26 “Blind Justice.” Stiers portrayed Arthur Hampton, a blind

sculptor who committed murder.

In episode 244, “Run for the Money” Winchester befriended Private Walter

Palmer (Phil Brock) who stuttered. Winchester told Palmer that from reading

his record, he knew that he had an incredibly high I.Q. To prove this, he

gave Palmer his copy of Moby Dick and told him that that the book was

worthy of his intelligence. When Private Palmer asked Winchester why he was

being so nice to him, Winchester changed the subject.

At the end of the episode, Winchester returned to his tent and played a

tape that his sister Honoria mailed him. She stuttered.

Stiers explained why Winchester refused to tell Palmer why he was being

kind and supportive: “It was part of the character trait that Winchester

would NEVER admit that he had been kind to someone. He would never admit

that that kindness came from a part of his heart that was wounded by

someone else’s trouble. He would not admit to things like moments of

compassion or insight. He maintained that awful glacial exterior.”

“The producers hired for me a blind advisor to be on the set,” said Stiers.

“She was a wonderful young lady with a gorgeous golden retriever, whose

name was unfortunately Andy. (There were two Andy(s) on the set, the Seeing

Eye dog and Matlock’s star, Andy Griffith.) I was not adept to being around

people with disabilities, never attaching my stuttering as a kid to anyone

else’s. I thought that I would never understand anyone else’s problems.

That changed when I was on Matlock. It was opening my head and my heart;

getting on with the empathy that we all need to bring to bear on getting

along with each other.” On the Matlock set, Stiers committed a memorably

embarrassing faux pas: “I would finish rehearsing a scene; I’d walk to the

woman and ask, `How did I look? Did I do everything right?’ I forgot that

she couldn’t see. She forgave me. We became good friends.”

Stiers’ advice to all aspiring actors and musicians, both able-bodied

and/or with disabilities is the same…… never give up!

#this is the interview that is cited in that one metv article and it was a little tough to find the whole thing #mash #disability pride month #david ogden stiers #I just copy pasted the interview as it was on the website #so any formatting issues aren't my fault #speech impediment #blindness #autism #disability

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violetsandfluff · 2 years

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White Shirt Shawn

@chocochipcookie305 🤭🤭

i promised shawn smut awhile ago and i’m finally posting it. #goalz

You loved Shawn in a white shirt. He hardly ever wore them at home, meaning it was a rare pleasure. You loved they way they fit him, hugging his muscles in all of the right ways, leaving little to be imagined about his strength. You loved when he cooked, and rolled up his sleeves so they sat above his elbow. You loved the color on him in general, and he knew it.

He always seemed to don his white shirts when you were down in the dumps about something. The moment you laid your eyes on him, your day would improve tons.

His hugs even seemed tighter in white shirts. Something about them tickled you beyond words.

“You gonna help me cook dinner tonight, princess?”

You stirred on the couch, pulling the blanket higher up. “I don’t wanna,” you sighed as you rolled over.

“Alright, if you say so,” Shawn agreed sadly. “Just let me fix your blanket first.”

The instant the white sleeves came into view, the blanket flew off and you were by his side. “I wanna help after all, Shawnie!” you said enthusiastically. “I changed my mind!”

“That’s peculiar,” he would remark vaguely, a smile creeping across his face. “In that case, run and get me the big pot.”

You did as you were told, returning to him with the pot like an obedient dog.

“Good girl!” he praised, rewarding you with a kiss. “Let’s make some dinner and I’ll give you a present while it cooks.”

You helped him make your favorite pasta, fetching for him ingredients and utensils he needed. He rewarded you with kiss after kiss, telling you repeatedly what a good girl you were.

Ingredient after ingredient was thrown into the pot, and step after step was performed until Shawn stood back with an accomplished smile. “Now. About that present, lovie.” He beckoned for you to follow him, and you did.

He hoisted you into the counter with his strong arms and began tugging at your pants, signaling for you to remove them.

You pulled them off loyally and he immediately began nibbling at your pussy, his tongue racing up and down your folds.

You moaned out in pleasure at the sensation, which made Shawn go harder, faster.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he mumbled between licks of your pussy. “So gorgeous, such a good girl.” More licks. “My princess, you deserve the whole… wide… world.”

You let out a high whine as you tugged at the collar of his shirt, willing him to remove it for you.

He did as you instructed, exposing his gloriously toned chest and torso. “What now?” he asked, running his tongue slowly across his bottom lip, placing his hand over the bottom of his neck. “I should probably check on dinner.” He walked over to the stove and removed the lid of the pot, a delicious aroma filling the air.

You hummed your approval as Shawn used a spoon to stir the pasta around, muttering just loudly enough for you to hear. “I could fuck you, I could finger you, I could kiss you…”

“Finger me?” the words flowed sweetly into your ears, like an intoxicatingly sugary river, and you spat the right back out.

“Yes, princess? Does that sound good?”

You nodded your head vigorously as you watched him approach tantalizingly slow.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You pointed to your pussy and he immediately went for your clit, his fingers creating the friction you craved. “Look at that pretty little bud! It’s blooming just for me!”

He went on like this, creating a sensually stimulating atmosphere for you. He fingered you in all the right spots as his lips traveled around your jaw and neck. He let out soft moans every once and a while if he felt you were getting too quiet, and, most importantly, he commented on how wet you were.

“So wet, love. All for me? What have I done to deserve all of… this?” He made a motion to indicate the puddle that was pooling on the counter between her thighs. “Fuckin’ sexy girl, cumming all over just for me. What a good girl.”

“Shawnie,” you whimpered as his rough tongue ran over a particularly sensitive part of your neck.

“Too much to handle, baby? I’m sorry,” he commented, retracting his hands and lips. “Poor, delicate little doll.”

Just then, the timer went off and Shawn turned the stove’s heat off. He removed you from the counter and set you on the ground, patting his head as he disinfected the counter and washed his hands.

The pasta was dished up onto two plates and set on the table.

Shawn put you in your chair, leaning down to your ear to whisper, “such a good girl to get me hard like that.”

Your tired pussy and the streaks on the counter from Clorox wipes were the only indicators of what Shawn had done to you mere minutes earlier.

Taglist: @wayfcharlie @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @pamelagramm

#concept #fanfic #blurb #smut #Shawn mendes #Shawn mendes concept #shAwn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes smut #shawn peter raul mendes #mendes army #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

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themsource · 10 months

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This is a Sans centered glimpse prize for my story Cupcake. Given some of the themes I don't recommend checking it out if you're sensitive to certain topics. While this post could be considered tame or mild, the main story certainly isn't so please do NOT force yourself to engage if that's a possibility.

For those that do follow the story and have an interest behind some of Sans' thought processes this is for you! I posted this in the comments on the fic but I know not everyone reads those so I'm also sharing it here. I hope this satisfies some curiosities as well as peaks them ^^

Word Count: 1000 Rating: M TWs: Mentions of Death/Murder

Sans wasn't good with kids.

Didn't matter how old or young they were. Didn't matter how long he'd spent around them or if he knew them or not. He simply couldn't understand them.

Children were confusing, awkward.

They'd run up for the most random of reasons just to yell really loudly, jump up and down like a spaz, and then zoom off as if they'd accomplished something remarkable.

Or they'd try to hold a conversation over something they knew absolutely nothing about and act like they did with an eye roll inducing confidence that just served to annoy rather than endear.

Sans really wasn't good with kids.

Even when trying to joke with them he couldn't help feeling disappointed and unsatisfied with their reactions.

Either they didn't get it and would shrug him off, take it too literally and try to sound smart by making a point blank statement he had no wish to listen to, or worse yet—and the one reason he despised the most—they laughed simply because they knew that was the right reaction to give.

It really sucked because Sans lived for making others laugh and kids were supposed to be easy—but they weren't.

Then there was touching.

Kids liked to touch.

A lot.

When someone touched him it'd make him extremely uncomfortable.

He didn't like people in his personal space, sometimes—very rarely—Papyrus was an exception to the rule, but aside from that he simply didn't like being touched and he was always very vocal about that.

More than vocal.

Violent.

But when it was a kid—he couldn't exactly tell them 'hey pal, a bit too handsy for me, ya mind?'

Because they were a kid.

And kids cried very easily.

Sans didn't like making anyone cry, he couldn't stand the sounds or the sight; it was ugly, gross, disgusting. He tried his best to avoid it because he didn't like witnessing it as much as he bet the one doing it didn't like experiencing it.

So when a kid would spontaneously hug him: he'd ball his fists in his pockets and grit his teeth as he let them hug it out until they grew bored and eventually ran off again.

He tried very hard to be accommodating to their youth and naivety, but it was difficult.

Mainly because he didn't see them as kids.

The word didn't hold the same meaning to him as it seemingly did to everyone else. To him kids were just adults that hadn't learned to wipe their butts yet or could figure what two plus two equaled.

They were just uneducated, dumb, mini people.

Whatever instinct or gene it was that made others fawn over big puppy dogged eyes or bobble headed figure cuteness to inspire protectiveness or adoration, Sans didn't inherit it.

Sure, he had the urge to protect but it wasn't as intense as the guy next to him probably felt. It was the same feeling as if he was warning a neighbor that the lock on their back door was broken or that there was a supposed rabid dog in the area.

There was no flare of defensiveness to override his logic or indifference that he felt in equal measure to every other living being simply because of their ignorance and vulnerability.

And maybe that was fucked up.

But it wasn't something he could help.

Not that he even wanted to.

Admittedly, this process of thought is likely what had made it easy for him to kill the little things when they'd fallen underground, over, and over again.

They were just another dead person.

They were just like another dead monster that dusted from lack of hope and starvation from being trapped underground.

There was no difference.

They were nothing special.

It wasn't like he couldn't stand kids either. On the contrary, he could like them just as much as he liked Grillby or even on occasion Toriel.

To prove a point: he was alright with Aliza.

All anyone had to do was take one look at him and her, and know that he cared a lot for the kid. It'd taken a lot of ups and downs, misunderstandings and pain, but he did care about her.

He made a promise to her.

But, ultimately…

Aliza was Aliza.

She wasn't a kid.

Young, naïve, and stupid? Check, check, and double check. But she learned, she understood and adapted where she needed to, he never had to tell her anything twice.

Aliza had sympathy and understanding filled with knowledge. She didn't feel sad just to feel sad because she knew she should've been if she wanted to appear kind and empathetic, no there were legitimate reasons behind how she felt. She wasn't a robot, a blank canvas going through the motions until it learned what those motions meant and the weight they held.

Aliza was different—an anomaly, and he admired her for that.

Papyrus had never truly been a kid; in form sure, but definitely not mentally (though he had tried his best to act like one). Which meant that it technically didn't count. So by the by, he didn't have any real experience with them, which meant that he still wasn't good with kids.

Then he met you.

And you had the most striking laugh, carefree and real—at one of his lamest jokes.

A shy little thing that understood, at least somewhat, his intentions. That knew what he had meant by his words and had happily latched onto them.

You went from submissively bowing your head and hiding beside Aliza to openly staring up at him with a grateful, welcoming, smile as you took a small step forward.

One good look at you was all he needed.

Unassuming, innocent, bare of visible scars or damage.

Unlike Aliza…you were definitely a kid.

But more than that however, was the vibrancy of your soul as it lit up under his gaze, so bright it was practically blinding.

At that moment…

Sans felt he could, maybe, be alright with you too.

#undertale au #Horrortale #sans/reader #Cupcake #My writing

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