#This is purely about me and my experiences and what I'm feeling in regards to my mental state.
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Okay in all seriousness. There's something that I REALLY want to talk about as an open discussion with the fandom, but. This is not going to be a very nice thing to hear/talk about.
It's about how Gonta is treated by the fandom.
As a fan of all the V3 characters now, and as someone who has always been a fan of Gonta, and as someone who has many mental disabilities and two diagnosed neurodivergancies... I'm tired of playing nice about it.
You all need to stop being ableist towards Gonta.
I've mentioned in the past that I don't like shitting on personal interpretations. I don't like saying something is or is not canon because narration is just a big web of text that you try to decipher with your own personal biases, experiences, and thoughts. That's why two literary analysts analyzing the same text with the same literary criticism rules can come to wildly different conclusions--why people develop different headcanons from the same canonical information.
But one of the things that challenged my integrity is just how many people view Gonta as this innocent, naive, ignorant, baby boy who can do no harm/never has a complicated/dirty/violent/sexual thought in his life ever.
This incredibly ableist interpretation of the character bothered me for, well, obvious reasons (See: It's fucking ableist, need I say more?) but I never challenged it as harshly as I am now because to be frank, it's not my place to tell people how to HC a character. It still isn't. But I've pretty much given up on my integrity on the subject and have decided to go all in on discussing why this interpretation of Gonta is just. Really bad.
First of all, not to promote my own analyses here or anything, but I think this analysis I did of Gonta explains a LOT in regards to the ableism the cast gives him in canon. I also think that this subtle ableism is why the fandom is so bad with Gonta's characterization in headcanons and fanfic--because they've seen how the cast treats him, and they think it's normal. They don't see the microaggressions, they don't see the subtle ableism in the cast--they just see this big giant idiot who speaks like Tarzan in the English version (which... I don't actually know why people assume Tarzan (Thinking of Disney's version) is stupid. Like as a boy he had to reinvent the spear with no one to guide him on how to do it. He was able to strategize and outsmart "civilized" men in the final showdown. Still I digress) and don't see the literal genius behind his social awkwardness.
There is also another very important point I'm going to make in addition to this, and it's going to be very uncomfortable to Gonta fans who insist he's nothing but a sweet baby who only has pure thoughts. Especially to the fans who insist he "can't be sexual" or think it's weird to ship him with his peers.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but... Gonta blatantly has sexual desire and gets horny right in canon.
This is further clarified here:
It wasn't a matter of Gonta didn't want to touch her because touching someone in their underwear was inappropriate, or being flustered because she was in her underwear which is inappropriate...
It was literally a "weird feeling" that made him unable to approach her or touch her. A "weird feeling" that Miu makes pretty obvious as to what it was--sexual arousal.
He literally was sexually attracted to and felt sexual arousal from looking at Miu in her underwear. He had sexual feelings and thoughts about Miu. Why?
Because Gonta is a young man.
Gonta is a brilliant, talented young man who has normal human thoughts for someone his age--sexual desires, upsetting thoughts, complicated thoughts, ectect. He is not a child, he is not mentally stunted (I've been informed that people have literally said this on Ao3 for the NSFW Gonta fics, please for the love of god stop that)
I think the reason why Gonta fans typically want to keep him as a "pure baby child who can do no wrong" is because treating him like the young adult that he is makes it harder for them to justify Chapter 4. Every time I've seen a Gonta fan that hates Kokichi, it's always followed by the sentiment of "Kokichi manipulated and abused Gonta into killing Miu, so it's all Kokichi's fault." They're afraid of nuance and liking a character with the grey morality of genuinely thinking Mercy Killing the cast is a viable option, because it challenges their own morals about the character they adore.
To those people who read this and are upset: You can and should like Gonta! Gonta is a magnificent character who showcases the subtle way microaggressions can manifest and hurt people, he's a good-hearted person and a literal genius, he cares deeply for his friends and loves everyone with upmost sincerity.
But.
You need to re-evaluate your stance on Gonta if you think he's a stupid, naive fool who Kokichi manipulated. You need to re-evaluate why you think those thoughts, why you think Gonta being shipped with anyone is "Kinda weird" or "has weird consent problems" or "give you the ick." You have to challenge yourself and ask yourself uncomfortable questions in regards to why you treat Gonta like a child when canon has proven otherwise, why you think he cannot have violent or sexual thoughts, why he can't think mercy killing his class is the only way to save them.
This isn't an attack on you--but understand that these specific takes on Gonta? They are ableist in nature. They belittle and dismiss him, they treat him like a child, an idiot who can't think for himself--and you have to come to terms with the fact that Gonta is a far more complex character with complicated thoughts and feelings who is a young adult. Not a child. A young adult.
So again, ask yourself this: Why are you treating this young adult like he's a toddler?
#Gonta Gokuhara#Miu Iruma#Kokichi Ouma#Danganronpa V3#DRV3#As an AuADHD individual who thinks Gonta is Autistic coded#do you understand how frustrating it is to see this shit#Do you understand how it feels to be infantized? To be told through the lens of a character “You're too stupid to be an adult”?#Worse yet is that I'm also constantly told that me being short and baby faced makes me “child coded.”#Do you understand how ableist this all is. Do you Understand?#Anyway that's one post down. Gonna go read a thing for Star#This does genuinely upset me though as an AuADHDer#Please stop. I am speaking on behalf of people like me--/Please fucking stop./#Tag Edit: Yes this is safe to RB and spread around#Please do RB this in fact
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Sometimes I wonder if I'm just slowly going insane. Like... yes, okay, the wolves make sense. They're actual animals that actually, objectively exist. And nobody knows for sure what happens when we die (and aren't revived back into our current lives), so reincarnation cannot be dismissed as a possibility. But I just don't know. I mean, there's the gryphon. And my gryphon is a deeply embedded part of who I am. I've sat with this for 13 years and every time I've questioned, I've come back to the same conclusion: yes, this is me. The kitsune I almost hate to acknowledge. Both because everybody seems so quick to label existing as cultural appropriation, but also because I just don't want to deal with yet another kintype. As far as appropriation, I've lived as two different types of wolves on two different continents, I know I lived as a Karelian human at one point, I am entirely positive I was a creature from Mediterranean and Middle Eastern lore... Why is this any different? But also I just... don't want to deal with all the shit that seems to go along with each of my kintypes/theriotypes.
And now the plural crap. I don't know how many people saw the post in which I compared trying to learn to deal with the headmates to drowning in a molasses flood (yes, there is an actual historical event there) before I took it down. But I do not want this. I do not. But I don't really get to say one way or the other. And I especially don't want to deal with all the bullshit I see going on in the plural community. But I've been through a prolonged period of intense stress and seem to have come out the other side of it with extra people in my head. That sounds pretty nuts to me. But the more I look at things, the more I think Firekeeper might be much, much older. I've had somebody in my head I talk to - and who talks back - since I was a teenager. And that also started after a traumatic event that led into a several year period of intense and prolonged stress. I've been having conversations with somebody in my head since I was somewhere between 14 to 17 years old. It's a little fuzzy trying to think back that far. I should also note here that I have basically fragmented my entire life and identity and ruthlessly compartmentalize things. That stems from that same traumatic event. But I just thought the person in your head thing was normal. Apparently not.
But I feel like I'm slowly going insane. I feel like I have to be crazy. I often feel like I have wings and a tail and animal ears, sometimes my brain straight up decides I'm a magical fox, and now there are a handful of other people living in my head. I am losing my goddamn mind. There's no way I'm not.
#This is not meant in an anti-kin or anti-system way -at all-.#Just need to clarify that.#This is purely about me and my experiences and what I'm feeling in regards to my mental state.#It is not a reflection on anybody else.#mental health#therianthropy#otherkinity#I don't know about anyone else.#Y'all tell me what's going on in your head and I will believe you.#Anyway I need to sleep so I can deal with the ceiling situation in the morning.
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VOID SUCCESS STORY
I Finally Experienced The Void State
HOW I USED TO VIEW VOID BEFORE I ENTERED
Before I entered it, I viewed the void as the ultimate state of oneness with the universe. I viewed it as the place where I could finally be free from all suffering and limitation. It was a place where I could be at peace and experience the ultimate reality. I also viewed it as a place that was beyond anything I could imagine or describe. It was the place I was drawn to and wanted to experience more than anything else in the world. It was where I knew I could find the ultimate truth and the ultimate peace and bliss.
I was never a fond of it, I just and wanted to feel it, experience it by myself. I don't understand why it's so hyped up after all.
HOW I TAPPED IN
I tapped in by listening to my subliminal. Before putting on the sub I did a special, ancient breathing technique :
Bhastrika or the bellows breath
For this you have to Close the right nostril and inhale twenty rapid bellows-like breaths through the left nostril. Repeat with twenty more bellows breaths through the right nostril while keeping the left nostril closed. Proceed to take twenty bellows breaths through both nostrils. This method helps the body and mind to clear out mental, emotional and physical blocks.
After doing this, I put on my subliminal and a blind fold on my eyes and imagined myself walking inside my own mind and it's getting darker and darker as I get deeper into it, exactly like Eleven did in Stranger Things. Okay, so doing this made me super duperr relaxed which got me slept and when I woke up I knew that I made it! and NO, my void was not pitch dark, I don't know but for some reason it was white, pure white. I felt like I'm directly looking into a bulb you know :)
MY EXPERIENCE WITH IT
My void experience was a feeling of emptiness and peace. Not a single thing was there in the void other than my consciousness. I felt completely liberated and at ease when I was in the void. My thoughts were dead silent and I was just being. I felt a deep sense of connection to the universe and a knowing that all is well. It was a feeling of emptiness and unity at the same time. Everything that is, is within me. It can not be described because it is beyond any description. No words and no labels can truly define or grasp the eternal silence of the void. The void I experienced was full of utter peace and stillness. It was the complete lack of self-consciousness and the total realization of eternity. It was pure, uninterrupted consciousness. It was a place of pure awareness and complete freedom from all attachments and desires. It was a place of absolute silence and the absence of all thought and emotion. It was a place of complete and utter bliss and nothingness at the same time. I felt a deep sense of timelessness and immortality. I felt like I was in my purest form. I felt like I was in a state of total nirvana and perfect happiness. It was like being in a state of pure bliss and complete oneness with the universe. I felt connected to everything and everyone, and it was the most pure and peaceful experience I've ever had. However I have entered the void twice but snapped out on incident within seconds. Staying in the void for hours is totally different :)
MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE VOID IS JUST UNDESCRIBABLE 🤍
I really don't know how to put it into words
I just feel COMPLETED now !
WHAT I MANIFESTED
No, I didn't manifest anything in the void. Manifesting something through the void was never my intention because I already have manifested almost everything just by listening to my subliminals and I love listening to them. But if in future if I'll manifest anything in the void, I'll update y'all about it for sure with pictures.
Believe me or not the void is unnecessarily so hyped up in this community, it's so easy to access it. Now with my experience with it I know how I can be helpful to y'all in regards of accessing the void state.
I know people will ask me for the subliminal that I listened to, so first of all I made it myself, because few days back while I was on my journey to entering the void I listened to a subliminal, which made everything worse, I knew that the subliminal maker has used some bad spells in it, so I made my own sub. No wonders tho because earlier I used to make subliminals for myself and they did worked for me and I manifested a lot of things but I was so lazy that I stopped making them :)
But as I really wanted to experience the void within myself, I decided to work a Lil hard and make a sub for myself and after researching deeply on how I can make subliminal work faster, I managed to made it myself.
I have posted it on my YouTube channel but remember my sub will not work for those who have bad intentions! ThankYou.
Here's the video :
Enter the void in the blink of an eye : Use w/ caution
youtube
Make sure to hit the subscribe button because I'll be uploading more such subliminals ! 🤍
#Youtube#void#void state#void success#void state success story#loa#loassumption#law of assumption#sammy ingram#affirm and persist#the void#shifting methods
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PAC ☆ Sweet things about you
Hi!~ Welcome to my first ever pick a card reading! This reading will be about what makes you such a sweet person. Please feel free to tell me your opinion on this reading. I appreciate feedback. It would help me a lot! :) Remember to only take what resonates. You always know best! ❤️
Pile 1
I can't even explain the beauty and depth I felt from the cards in this pile! You possess a profound understanding of the human psyche and see humans and the human experience from a very intimate, sentimental and artistic perspective. You're empathetic, emotionally deep and understanding. You're deeply touched by art. Your loved ones see you as their angel and baby. You're their light. You reverberate warmth and brilliance. You make people very happy and provide them with hope and certainty, like a lighthouse. Other people experience a realignment with themselves upon encountering you. So precious and pure. You're loved and loving and you just want the best for others. Your inner child is awake and thriving. You have a healing and childlike energy and healing hands. You like to play and spread joy and I'm also feeling that children love you. You're so cute pile 1, you deserve the world!
Pile 2
Right off the bat I'm feeling strong parental energy. You're so protective and responsible, a nurturer and a provider. You care so deeply about your loved ones and would go to the ends of the world for their sake! You like planning things for them and just want to do everything for them. You're like both a knight and a nurse, and you definitely give off a lover warrior energy. You're very smart with money and enjoy taking the financial pressure off from others. Strategic, smart, sharp, trustworthy and reliable. You're strong and capable and can be trusted with anything. You would make a great leader honestly. One of the cards had a picture of a white dragon flying in the sky with a sword in it's mouth. That's how you feel like, a true knight! But you're actually very soft on the inside and want the same treatment from others. You're so cool pile 2, you make my heart beat!
Pile 3
You're just and balanced and you love justice and balance and keeping the order. Wise, people go to you for advice. You have a lot to teach others. You're seen as very respectable and a role model in your community and are highly regarded as a religious or spiritual person. Good hygiene. You watch over and protect your loved ones in the spiritual realm, you might've already noticed that. I'm getting this image of you ascending to the sky at nighttime when everyone's asleep and watching over them. Strong moon energy and high priestess/priest energy. You feel like a spiritual guardian. You're a spiritually elevated being and you've reached high levels of consciousness. Stubborn and strong-willed. You always persevere and you know how to master your shadows. Which makes you give off an energy of calm strength. You inspire clarity in others. How admirable pile 3!
You've reached the end! Thank you for reading!❤️
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I’m sorry to ask this repetitive question but I am autistic and struggle to understand many basic concepts within the Law of Assumption it's especially harder since most people speak in riddles and I'm not good with those things. I need clarification on a few things; What is imagination and what does it mean to imagine? Must you always be aware of the state that you're entertaining and micromanage your thoughts? How do I ignore the 3D and live in the imagination? Am I supposed to ignore all of my 3D responsibilities and pretend that I'm living my dream life? For example, if I have a test on Thursday and I want to manifest that I don't, should I not study and pretend that I don't have a test? If I remind myself, "Oh, you need to study for your test on Thursday" and I continue to study even though I'm manifesting that I don't have a test, would that be a contradiction and mean that I'm admitting that I don't have my desire? Should I think and act a certain way or continue living my life? There's too much information about what to do and what not to and I'm so confused because I don't understand it and it makes me insane!
Ma vie, it's much simpler than you think it is. Allow me to break it down little by little:
What is imagination and what does it mean to imagine?
Imagination: the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses.
To imagine simply means to devise an idea. Ideas owe their origin to imagination. Before it became reality, everything around you was once merely an idea: the internet, social media apps, technology, electronics, the model of your home, cars, freeways, haircut trends, the design of the clothes you are currently wearing, the very idea of even wearing clothes, art as a whole, it doesn't matter what you point at; EVERYTHING was born from imagination.
Must you always be aware of the state that you're entertaining and micromanage your thoughts?
You make acknowledging your state sound like something you have to be constantly monitoring. You don't have to be monitoring anything. As I'm sure you know, you're always in a state because you are always conscious of being something. Regarding micromanaging your thoughts: NO! Your thoughts indicate your state so if you're thinking against your desired state of consciousness then that means you are not conscious of being who you desire to be, and so you change that via I AM and you persist in it.
How do I ignore the 3D and live in the imagination? Am I supposed to ignore all of my 3D responsibilities and pretend that I'm living my dream life?
Ignoring the 3D is not about pretending it isn't there. It is about not letting it have the last word.
Pretend? NO! Pretend implies that it isn't real, when imagination IS REAL. IMAGINATION IS THE FOUNDATION OF THE WORLD AROUND YOU!
"Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." - Philippians 4:8
When you live in imagination, you contemplate what you would like to experience and then immerse yourself in the feeling of the wish fulfilled. Accept that invisible state (your dream life) as reality. Then go your way knowing the desire is now yours.
If I remind myself, "Oh, you need to study for your test on Thursday" and I continue to study even though I'm manifesting that I don't have a test, would that be a contradiction and mean that I'm admitting that I don't have my desire? Should I think and act a certain way or continue living my life?
Do what you have to do in your day-to-day life, just remember to bring yourself back to that which you desire to be. Walk as though you were and persist in it. As I said, ignoring the 3D is not about pretending it isn't there. Attending it for a moment will not kill your imaginal act. So you take care of what needs to be taken care of and remember to bring yourself back to your idea if you waver. Accept what you want in imagination. Remember that imagination is the cause and the 3D is the effect.
I hope this cleared up your confusion. As always, if you have further questions you're welcome to send them over <3
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Okay, I said I was gonna make a post about the way I believe Ryan is playing Eddie as in love with Buck because of the way he makes certain choices about Eddie regarding Buck that are similar to the ones he made about Eddie regarding Shannon, and this is it.
The whole thing started with the way Eddie looks away from things that make him experience intense feelings, but mostly when he doesn't like what he's feeling in a sense. He looks away from Shannon all of the time, when they're fighting, before she goes to the school, and in the firehouse, when she says she wants a divorce.
He's avoiding his parents eyes when they are trying to take Christopher, he looks away from Frank all the time.
He can't look Buck in the eye when Buck is trying to tell him that Chris got lost in the tsunami, he looks away from Ana because he knows he's hurting her (he does force himself to watch Shannon as she dies but I feel like that's a lot more about his loyalty/instinct to protect because that moment is fully about her because she's dying).
That's a consistent trait Ryan gave Eddie, he looks away, I think it even makes sense with the way Eddie runs away from stuff. And that makes moments when he's avoiding eye contact with Buck that much more interesting.
Because take 3a for example, buddie has quite a few emotional conversations, but during those, Eddie is mostly always staring Buck down or actively trying to force Buck to look at him (except when it comes to the fight club but the fight club is a lot more about shame in my opinion).
But when you look at the will reveal for instance, Eddie is consistently forcing himself to look back at Buck. His instinct seems to be to keep looking forward, and he needs to remember to look at Buck from time to time. (I'm not gonna put the whole scene here, but go rewatch and pay attention to where Eddie is looking)
And sure, the way Eddie simply refuses to look at anything relating to Buck's death can be seen as just "my best friend died" because any reasonable person would have an extreme reaction to watching their best friend die.
But, I don't see how that applies in the cemetery. Because Buck says "she sees me" and Eddie gives him that disbelief look and then just, stops looking. Honestly, there's no reason for that conversation not to involve them looking at each other, the point that's made that they are looking straight ahead is very interesting on its own but, like, when you add the fact that Eddie looks away from shit he doesn't want to feel/wants to run away from, that conversation has a whole other fun layer.
Even more with the way that Buck is lowkey looking like a kid tugging on your sleeve to get your attention and Eddie just refuses to look at him.
But my point really comes to the fact that these are all the same reaction.
And how do you explain the decision to make Eddie react the same way he does when Shannon is asking him to make a decision about them and then when she makes the decision herself by asking for a divorce when he thinks Buck has made a decision about them so he needs to back off?
That's his breakup face, plain and simple.
And it's not a reaction Eddie has to Shannon once, is something that is consistent with the way we see Eddie reacting to Shannon, and I personally think its a lot of the way it makes us never feel sure about the relationship, because Eddie is consistently presented to us when it comes to this as "I love her but I'm not sure about having her around". And these are his reactions to moments where Shannon makes him question where they stand. Moments where he's questioning if he actually understands where their relationship is.
You can't have Eddie question the nature of his relationship with Buck just because Buck has a crush and tell me that Eddie is experiencing purely platonic feelings.
And these are acting choices, and Ryan is very consistent about the way Eddie reacts to stuff, so the fact that he is wearing his "Shannon is making me feel thing" face says something.
I also said earlier today that Eddie is aware of his feelings because he stops saying emotional things while looking at Buck. Like, after the tsunami he is literally chasing Buck's gaze to force him to look at him, he doesn't look away from him at the grocery store or when they make up after the lawsuit or even after Buck fights with his parents, but starting with the will reveal, he looks away when saying things, and it makes me wonder if there's a level of that that is about making sure Buck can't read his reaction to what he's saying, because he doesn't want Buck to look too closely.
Anyway, that's all for today, as always, if you read this I love you <3
#911#911 meta#buddie meta#eddie diaz#buddie thoughts#im gonna go to bed now#i dont feel nearly as crazy about this one as i do other metas#is too many instances to be a coincidence yk?#ryan is on our side#and he put in enough work that the second they decide to make buddie canon that can just push Eddie into doing something#and make it make sense#anyway#Ryan is playing Eddie as in love with Buck and I will take no criticism
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𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥, 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤; 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞
FOR MY POOKIEWOOKIE @moongreenlight !! who i adore sososo much I HOPE U ENJOY !!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after realizing what raphael could do for you before; ridding your mind of the emperor for the briefest moment, you wanted to know how that could feel for a second time, no matter the cost.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: -> sneaky HUMAN raphael, non-con, deception and lies its raphael what else did you expect. probably a little ooc since this is for pookie so fk canon :D. as always all sexual nsfw will be under the cut!
I'm walking, you've been hiding,
And you look half-dead half the time.
Monitoring you, like machines do,
You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye
You told yourself that you’d do anything for answers, that the cost didn’t matter–you wanted a solution, a cure to your tadpole infliction, and despite knowing better than to trust a devil, you were growing hopeless and running low on any other options. Yes, you knew the magic that Halsin told you about, the same words later spoken by the Emperor; their proclamation of impossibility regarding the worm’s extraction no matter which method you attempted, from whomever. But there was one time, and only one, when you remembered what mental quietude could sound like amidst such circumstances.
So, veiled by the darkness of the night sky en route, you navigated through Sharess’ Caress to the upper floors, intent on finding Raphael–even though he was hardly the paragon of trust–and experiencing solace in silence once again, something that, unfortunately, only he could provide. Gale was always going on about the benefits of respite, and this one you craved like a drug, now that you could remember how solitude felt after so long without it. What a crime to wish for independence within one’s own mind these days.
You didn’t bother knocking, he likely sensed you at some point or another on your way here, what with his attentiveness to you and all that implied your involvement. You didn’t care about being the intrusive one for once, careening the door open and briskly sending it shut behind you.
“Surely you didn’t think that little disguise would work?”
“It wasn’t meant for you.” You tugged your hood down easily and shrugged the rest of your cloak off, balling it up and tossing it aside carelessly. You spotted Raphael standing a few feet away, in the first doorway of the den, his back to you. Yet he knew what you were wearing.
He turned and lifted a brow at you, but the rest of his expression showed obvious disinterest in speaking about this any further than the short exchange.
“Have you come to make the right choice?”
“Bold assumption,” you said quickly, not yet ready to fully admit why you sought him out in your situation; in the dark, on your own. “Shouldn’t you ask why I’m here first?”
“All I needed was a look at you to know.”
You didn’t respond, and he grinned, his lids low as he watched you.
“But I’ll let you tell me anyway, I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. What troubles you, little mouse? What is it that’s brought you right into the cat’s paw?” he approached slowly, hands interlocked behind him as he subtly looked you up and down–knowingly–like you were the subject of an experiment. That wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I want you to do… whatever you did for me before, again.” You kept your eyes on him, speaking somewhat hesitant but remaining strong in your stance, your gaze unwavering. You noted the way he subtly mouthed along when you spoke the word ‘again’, tauntingly, like he already had you figured out. Perhaps he did.
“You don’t mean this?” He murmured, and with a snap of his fingers, your mind was yours again; that insistent, idle static now fizzled out.
Your eyes widened, brows uplifting alongside your lips as you nodded; it was just like the last time, pure silence aside from your own little conscience as it came to the same giddy realization that it was alone once more. Raphael only chuckled, and after a too-short moment, your mind was back to its newly but usually muddled state. The Emperor had nothing to say yet, which you were grateful for, as it saved you the need to seek an excuse for his inability to communicate with you in a second instance that shouldn’t have been possible the first time around.
“Are you expecting me to do you a favour like that for nothing?” he laughed dryly, mockingly; it made you feel like the vermin that was about to be squashed beneath a dirty boot sole. “You may be the brightest, most shimmering jewel in my crown, but something so deliciously close to free will in a time like this cannot come without charge. What’s more, it is most costly when one chooses selfishness over the common good.”
You should have expected this. You must’ve known deep down that it wouldn’t be so easy, that Raphael wouldn’t be a one-time good samaritan–a saint–and do you this favour, even in spite of all the honeyed names that’d roll off of his tongue when he sought you out, making it seem as though you were a little more special than his usual clientele. Stepping forward with a frown, you scoffed:
“How am I being selfish?” Was he just toying with you for his entertainment now? You hadn’t been here for long, but the trip would be cut off even sooner if this continued. You craved relief, but not enough to get tangled up in the deep end with a devil, to a point of no return.
“Why do you deserve the fix before anyone else? Do you think I’m a good-willed cleric made to provide relief to all those with your affliction?” Despite how incredulously he spoke, you could tell now that he was merely testing you. Testing you for what exactly, you couldn’t tell; your will, your determination?
“Who are you to be the dictator of right and wrong?” you countered him with a question of your own, stepping up closer once he stopped in his tracks. He hardly raised his brows in his fullest reaction to your bravery, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
“I’m not. But I’m the only one who can provide a moment of respite to you, and I don’t work for free. Is that not fair? You are asking for quite a privilege.” He smirked like he knew what you would say next.
“You’ve already done it for me once before, what makes it different now? It’s temporary anyway, is it not? Am I wrong?”
“It is. But last time was just a… sample if you will. For a second taste, a true dealing between us, you’ll need to do something for me too.”
You grimaced, and he looked too pleased with himself. You’d managed to avoid getting involved with him this far along, rejecting most ultimatums he offered, and you’d been fine without his assistance–or obstacles, rather. Yet now, something initiated completely of your own accord was creating a conflict that you could’ve avoided if not for your greed and its insistence; you weren’t done yet.
“Fine” you conceded, rather quickly too. His smirk widened, he looked so smug.
“Good, good” he purred. You blinked a few times, your body having an unexpected reaction to the bassy sound as you averted your gaze, refusing to recognize it.
“What do you want from me, then?” you mumbled.
“What do you think I would like from you–my dearest–” he drew out, “in exchange for my services?” He tilted his head, and he seemed a lot closer than you last remembered. He was much more visible in your periphery even as you forced your eyes aside. Were you supposed to answer that question and know what to say, what he wanted?
“I-I don’t know. Do you want me to take the deal with you and promise you the cro–actually, no, that is way too much in exchange for a few minutes of sile–”
“No” he cut you off sharply, his expression falling flat. “That, I can wait for. Your choice will be even sweeter to hear the longer you hold out on me. But considering our current circumstances…” he trailed off, and when you didn’t look at him during that pause, you felt hands slide up your waist.
You blinked at the same time that your body jolted–a millisecond–and your surroundings changed. You still stood in Raphael’s grasp, just before the dining hall’s grand table within the House of Hope. Your eyes darted around warily, but you still felt an odd sense of… calm. Raphael, so tenderly that your heart thrummed a little off-beat, slid his fingers up your body and down your arms, grasping your wrists as he led you to one of the seats; facing the flames that so ironically burned in the fireplace. He walked slowly, dare you say methodically, striding to take a spot across from you.
"Indulge yourself” he muttered, looking utterly observant. He placed his chin atop his hands, fingers interlocked into a fist. He didn’t touch the food, but you expected as much.
“I’d rather not” you garbled, your gaze careful while you studied him and tried not to overreact, still settling into the new environment. You didn’t have an appetite per se, not for the deceptive refreshments that were too perfectly laid out before you anyway. Raphael may have been worming his way into your routine so often, just like the godsdamned tadpole itself, but his presence lingering for so long didn’t equate to trust yet.
“Then indulge me.”
You watched him reach for and open a bottle of wine, one you didn’t recognize as common among those you’d scraped together from wooden boxes and crates on your way to the gate. It looked more prestigious, the bottle was embellished with what you could only assume to be real gold melted within the glass, and it caught the light so intriguingly each time he tilted it to pour some out; a drink for him, a drink for you. You looked away when he stood and took the chalices in his hands, placing one before you and promptly returning to his seat. When you looked to him again he had elevated the goblet in his hand, his chin lifting.
“To a new era.”
Your fingers approached the table, tips dancing towards the stoup’s base, the entirety of which could have been crafted by Gond and polished by Moradin. You wondered, despite how aged everything throughout the House was by the natural processes of time; cracked tile, buffered but helplessly dull stone… the stemware looked so new; untouched. He didn’t save it just for you, surely? Flitting your eyes back to Raphael as you thought about it, you noted how he finished taking a slow sip, lowering his cup back to the tablecloth. You couldn’t stop yourself from watching his tongue dart out to get some more of the taste, from what lingered on his lips. He noted your longer-than-usual silence, and those same lips turned up.
“Your insistence, or stubbornness, rather, is very endearing in more… suitable circumstances. For once, you should try to act less like the illithid you’re bound to become and let go of those inhibitions. Look where you are” His head swayed slightly to his left, to the room, fingers drumming mutely on the tabletop.
The wine was tempting, and his taking a first sip did comfort you in some way. You spared him a final glance before zeroing in on your goblet, staring down the dark liquid inside, watching the warm candlelight rippling reflectively on its surface. Perhaps it couldn’t hurt to indulge just this once, you thought, as you took the cup into your hand.
Raphael nodded along, encouragingly. Uncharacteristically.
You figured there was no harm in it, especially if he was as fond of you as he claimed, then he wouldn’t want you to meet a preemptive demise. Not yet.
You bit the bullet, raising the chilled gold to your lips. You did feel rather parched, and the substance slid down your throat so smoothly, so soothingly.
“You know, I poisoned one of our goblets.”
Exhaustion was sent over you like a wave, and not because of the poison immediately having an effect–had it been your substance that was tampered with–but because of course he did. You sighed, your eyes falling closed to console that Raphael-induced fatigue.
“Gods, I hope it’s mine,” you muttered beneath your breath.
He let out what you may have heard as, amidst all of your quarrels, his first genuine laugh. His face was delighted as he shook his head.
“Are you so displeased at the prospect of dining with me?” he leaned back in his seat, grinning and crossing a leg over the other. Getting comfortable. Settling in. You were tense in opposition, knees tight together as you kept yourself at the edge of your chair.
“This clearly isn’t all that you want from me, Raphael. Either get on with it, or let the toxins do their job and let me off easy” You put the goblet down, pushing it forward and away as you inhaled sharply, now on higher alert considering the circumstances.
“It’s only a bit of fun. The dose isn’t lethal, I couldn’t rid Faerûn of such a treasure in that crude of a way.”
At least you were right about that.
Raphael said nothing else as he took in your silence, and his expression didn’t say much either. He stood slowly, his eyes remaining on you as he dragged his fingers along the tabletop until he landed at your side.
“If you’d like to experience mental solitude again, then I’ll only ask for one, small thing from you.”
You certainly felt a touch drowsier than before, your limbs a little more numb and tingly, like they had fallen asleep on you in a too-short duration. You turned your head to look up at him, and even at a neutral pace, the motion made you nauseous. You let out a soft groan of displeasure, closing your eyes and moving to drop your head down. Raphael caught your chin and forced your eyes to remain on him, his voice barely above a whisper as he proposed:
“Solitude, for a kiss.”
“The least isolating ask,” you muttered bitterly, eyelids heavy as the sight of him became a degree blurrier than what you knew as typical. Yet you could still make out his smirk, and he leaned closer.
“But not a very weighted one. Don’t you miss being able to think without the added badgering of the Emperor’s two cents?”
Truthfully, you did, if this last-resort decision wasn’t enough of an indicator. A kiss also wasn’t a huge deal, but Raphael was the cambion equivalent to the poison coursing through your veins. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you also weren’t in much of a position to deny him. Would you even be able to enjoy the seclusion if this didn’t wear off after he did this favour?
“That’s really all you want?”
“It is. Perhaps if you wished for something more permanent it would be a different story, but alas. It doesn’t need to be written contractually either, nothing so serious.”
“Fine, then.”
You chose to take the initiative, the leap of faith, pressing your weight into the armrests of the chair so you could stand up and lean in. Your resistance was, helplessly, nonexistent when Raphael pushed you back down; the side effect of his poison making it too easy.
He grabbed your jaw, fingers firm but the motion gentle as he turned your face towards his. Your eyes were already half-closed, but you didn’t miss the intensity on his features. He hovered over you, his mere presence so imposing as he kept you right where he wanted; under his thumb. He moved closer until his cupid’s bow brushed over yours, ever-so-tender, so close yet so far. Your heart nearly skipped a beat once he tilted his head a little further, his lips parting in the slightest as they touched yours, but it wasn’t yet a kiss. Yes, you had expected him to draw this out considering the circumstances of the required affection pertaining to a deal, but what you hadn’t expected was your subsequent anticipation and eventual impatience.
“Just do it–” you managed to murmur out against his mouth, some natural venom lacing the words without the help of the poison. You were surprised that he closed the gap properly right after by pulling your head up to him, his fingertips pressing deeper into your cheeks as he did, fingernails scraping the thin skin.
He kissed you hard but without much aggression. You were taken aback by his normalcy, but it appeared that he was just getting started, as he soon used the leverage of his hand on your face to bring you to your feet. You winced, the motion pulled at your neck, but you weren’t given time to dwell on it when he jerked you to the table and tore his lips from yours.
“Not going to put up a fight? How unlike you” he smirked. You could only glare at him because if he wasn’t sharp enough to nullify any resistance efforts, you both knew who would be pinned down right now. He chuckled once, appraisingly, before pushing his body into you again, his lips finding your neck instead.
He started with nipping at the skin, then tasting it with a languid lick that made you squirm, and moving to hold your hands down against the table–as if you’d be able to move them on your own anyway.
“More than a kiss–” you managed to state, your voice containing a hint of matter-of-factness, but was a little raspier as his closeness certainly affected your fortitude.
“You knew better” was all he had to respond with, the words muffled as they were kissed into the horripilation on your skin. He remained content here for a while, bringing a finger up to your jaw to turn your head in the opposite direction of where he had already ridden your skin with his lips and hot saliva; making you shiver when the wetness caught the air and consequently cooled, regardless of how hot it was in the hells and logically shouldn’t have been possible.
You were equivalent to a ragdoll by now, simply letting it happen when he grabbed your arms and flipped you around, your loose-limbed body immediately tipping over so your front was flat against the table; your hips perfectly positioned for your ass to press into his hips. He laughed and didn’t even try to create space, pressing himself into you so you could feel how hard he was, and it made you grimace at the realization of just how far this was going to go.
“You’re the only person worth this,” he breathed, his fingers snaking up to wrap around the column of your neck and force your head up. “The only one who deserves to experience this privilege.”
Unable to suppress your snicker when he said that, you almost whined aloud when his fingers tightened in response, and began rutting his hips into you steadily but with enough force to shift your body against the tabletop each time, your shirt getting caught up in the tablecloth and pushing it up so the cool surface touching your heated flesh made you tremble. The strong scents of all the lavish foods surrounding your immediate proximity almost drowned out Raphael’s scent, but it wasn’t enough, especially not as he leaned down so his front was against you completely, his face next to yours.
“So amusing, is it?” he rumbled, subtly bringing his free hand up the side of your limp thigh, finding your hip, and reaching to tug at your panties. You couldn’t even feel shock anymore, simply letting out a strained exhale the material shifted when he slid it down your skin; off. “We’ll see for how much longer you feel that way.”
How much had you missed within those few seconds, to be surprised when he was already playing with his cock against your entrance? You felt a lot hotter then, your skin crawling with pleasure-induced chills as he moved his tip slowly, heavily up and down, prodding so slightly into your warmth and making your muscles tense each time he slid it away and down to your clit. He never lingered against one spot or the other long enough for any long-term sensations to last, and you couldn’t stop yourself from releasing a disgruntled groan. His chuckle reverberated through you, making your breaths shake as they became increasingly rapid.
“I wonder if any of your devotees across the realms know that you can be reduced to this–if they think about it,” he pressed the tip of his cock into you now, making your hastened breaths hitch, your lungs burn, “if they imagine you beneath them, or maybe even above them–but you only deserve to be here,” he pushed his hips forward and slid in deeper, with ease, the motion so precise it made your thighs twitch, “beneath me.”
He set a slower rhythm to start, but the way that his movements bumped you further into the table each time made it so that you could feel all of him so perfectly. You felt so open, so exposed–
“Y-You seriously want to do this right here?” you whispered, only because your voice was so strained under his palm, and his cheek went taut in a grin next to you.
“My bed is still busy being warmed, this will do for now. You deserve better than mediocre; the real thing, not my copy. Feel fortunate” he sighed, pressing deeply into you for a moment and staying there, enjoying you, nearly pushing into your cervix–distracting you from the tongue-in-cheek response you wished to give to his words. You instinctively squirmed away, the intensity of it being too much too quickly with how teasingly he had been going thus far. But he wasn’t having any of your resistance despite how it was impulsive and not of your volition; pushing his body down heavier upon yours until you were trapped entirely, forced to take what he gave. Then he resumed movement, and he was moving faster now.
You fisted the tablecloth before you with the weakest grip; the strongest you could muster, physically fighting every part of yourself so as to not give into him too quickly by carelessly moaning out and letting him know that he was actually making you feel something good. It didn’t matter though. Hoarse, uncontrollable whines vibrated in your throat, locked behind your canines as they sunk into your bottom lip in a further attempt at deceiving him. You were shocked that somehow, throughout the numbness in the rest of your body, each stroke and deep tingle of pleasure could be felt in its most intense form. You continued to amuse him, making him laugh as if this were something wholesome and wholly reciprocated.
“What do you hear?” he whispered to you, the closeness and low volume of his voice making you writhe, igniting prickles of delight inside of you, making your pussy squeeze around him and pull him in deeper; even shocking yourself as your jaw dropped open from the sensation. All that you could audibly make out were your breaths and his, accompanied by the slick sound of his cock pistoning in and out of you with ease by how wet he made you in such a short time.
“Just you–” you lied, “–mumbling in my fucking ear,” you tried to chuckle, but when the hand that wasn’t on your neck squeezed your hip tightly enough for you to actually feel it amidst all of the numbness, you gasped quietly, the dry laugh devolving into a whimper.
“You shouldn’t hear anything,” he said slowly, but in a tone that was maybe one pitch higher than normal, like he was concluding another one of his awful riddles. You’d have taken time to cringe if he hadn’t grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you up at the same time that he moved, pulling you flush against him and continuing to fuck you like you were nothing more than a toy fulfilling its purpose.
He favoured intensity over speed, ensuring that you couldn’t escape him as his cock never fully left your sex; only sliding back to quickly grind deeply inside once more, making you see stars each time–you didn’t care about whatever else he had to mumble to you now, all you cared about was engrossing yourself in the feeling of him. It made your stomach churn deliciously too, and that familiar warmth of finality was beginning to stir within as he bit down on your neck, sliding his fingers out of the way so he could hold you still by a shoulder. If your body wasn’t essentially dead you’d have regretfully reached back to hold onto him for support, grasping at the material of his intricately designed garments which would probably irritate him; perhaps your situational debilitation was for the better.
“You’re not about to come for me, are you? Tut tut” he purred, and you couldn’t discern whether the way your eyes rolled was from annoyance or pleasure. Despite the degradation he didn’t relent, encouraging you above all else. His body encapsulated yours as he held you how he liked, keeping your back arched just slightly enough for your hips to perch nicely off of him as he pounded into you; had you seeing stars. “Don’t keep me waiting, then~”
When a sneaky hand left your shoulder and made its way to your front, pinching your clit, you came undone with a sharp whine; you could barely feel the way your thighs clenched, tightening alongside your pussy as you ground back into him to experience the sensation in its fullest, whimpering his name so weakly as your head lulled back to rest against his chest. You hardly caught the sight of him smirking down at you, so self-satisfied as his hand in your hair tightened, and only a smidge of embarrassment crept into your overall feelings of elation because you knew that he had every reason to feel that way.
Soon enough the waves of bliss calmed, to your dismay, and Raphael pulled out of you with a soft groan, releasing your body carelessly and stepping back out of your sight, making you rush to reach out and have your palms land against the table rather than your face.
As you turned around slowly and panted to catch your breath, you watched while he adjusted what minimal undressing he’d partaken in, and only then did you notice the feeling of something wet and thick sliding down the inside of your thigh. You looked down, your eyes widening a bit as you rushed to pull your panties back up to be rid of the sight of it; when did he cum?? You also wondered about how much control he must’ve had over the poison as you could feel the toxins wearing off now that it was all over; the ability to perceive and to touch returning to your body again, albeit weakly.
“Good, don’t let my gift go to waste. So intuitive.”
You shuddered in disgust and swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring his stupid, contented face and even happier statement. Now that you were approaching a state where you held a semblance of control again, you cleared your throat and redressed fully, smoothing over your clothes and standing taller after giving a quick shake of your head.
“Okay–you got what you wanted, give me my end of the deal now.”
Raphael grinned, his brows lifting in feigned surprise.
“Oh, darling, that was it. Couldn’t you tell? Surely you didn’t want your dearest Emperor to know about our fornication?”
You stood there, stunned, slowly but surely feeling hot rage seep into your bones. No fucking way was he being serious.
“Bullshit.”
He laughed at you in a falsely taken-aback way, even raising a ridiculous hand to his chest.
“That’s no way for a lady such as yourself to speak–you chose to jest when I asked what you could hear, that was your chance to tune in and tell. Regardless, we both fulfilled our ends of the bargain.”
“Oh that’s rich,” you started, not knowing what to do with your hands as they fidgeted at your sides, itching to reach up to him and–
“If you wish to experience this again, you know where to find me. Hopefully next time you’ll have come to a decision about the crown, too.” he chuckled in a muted way, to himself, like he was considering some inside joke that only he was part of, not you. Perhaps you were the joke to him, after doing something like this; surrendering to him. The thought made your face twist in anger and you began to approach him, your arms raising.
You only caught the split-second motion of his hand reaching out, and then… nothing. Moments of black, of unconsciousness… and then you were standing outside the den again. You lurched for the doorknob, tugging at it to no avail for the first time ever. After cursing aloud you hit the wood with your fists, letting out a long, deep sigh, shutting your eyes as you realized what a mistake this was to begin with.
You turned shamefully after a few more seconds of basking in exhaustion, your feet heavy and still feeling abnormal to use after so much time spent being dead weight. You trudged along to the exit of the brothel, cloakless, having left it in Raphael’s room and now being forced to endure the rain that had started. At least it was still dark outside, and you could return to camp innocently beneath the moonlight; be unheard beyond the pattering of the condensation while everyone else rested, acting as though nothing had happened at all, that you’d been there all night.
You kept your head down, blinking away the raindrops that slid from your hair and into your eyes. Only once you were alone, past the business outside of the Caress, that familiar bustling moved from the ambiance of the bordello to the innards of your brain, and a question was posed by the voice that’d been with you since the beginning of this life you had grown accustomed to:
“Where were you just now?”
© meyousing 2024. do not share/export my work onto any other platforms. do not translate my work.
#✧meyou#✧musinghxhmasterlist#yandere x reader#x reader#bg3#bg3 x reader#bg3 raphael#bg3 romance#raphael#raphael bg3#raphael baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate raphael#haarlep#raphael the cambion#raphael x tav#baldurs gate 3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x tav#she loves gale so much guys#she loves gale more than raphael fr#bg3 haarlep#house of hope#bg3 tav#bg3 fanfiction#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate iii#baldurs gate 3#tav#raphael x reader
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My sister in law and I once had a very deep chat where she told me she's a bit jealous of how I'm "capable" of obsessing over interests; I got the feeling that to her it seemed like a specific type of joy she would never really know. In turn, I told her that even though I sometimes wish it had an off switch, I rlly can't imagine a version of myself thay doesn't get joyfully hyperfixated on things, since it's so intrinsic to my personality/neuro-chemistry.
Anyways, I totally relate to that feeling of detached embarrassment, but it was eye-opening to talk abt it with her and see that A) some people really admire the capacity for such "passion" and B) some people genuinely just can't have that experience, which seems both unthinkable and obvious lol
I genuinely can't imagine a life like that for myself either. I've gone through periods of time before where I wasn't hyperfixated on something and genuinely I felt like...deeply empty the entire time. As soon as something new entered my life to fixate on I felt like myself again. I definitely have interests and hobbies that I enjoy in a very normal non-obsessive way but it feels so different and they don't feel like...sustainable. like I'm just living off of bread and milk. idk how else to phrase that. because the things I always hyperfixate on are tv shows and fictional characters I kind of just assumed it came with the territory of being an artist, cuz as a creator it's like...this is what I'm meant to do with my life, right? I know I'm supposed to be telling stories and creating characters and exploring concepts through fiction so it makes perfect sense that I'm depressed without any source of inspiration or rejuvenation. Cuz it's inspiring as hell to be hyperfixated on something!! it gives me endless energy and inspiration to create and that makes me feel amazing.
most of my friends are ND too but I know some of them aren't the same as me in this regard and they've even expressed similar jealousy that they're not someone who obsesses over things. it's both understandable and so weird to me cuz obviously you can't pick and choose what your brain is gonna latch on to but like...you haven't even had ONE time in your life where you spent years only thinking about one thing? not even once? that's unfathomable to me, that's like my entire life.
and while I definitely do not enjoy the embarrassment of having feelings and how upsetting it can be to constantly be distracted from real life tasks that take priority and also feeling self conscious and wondering if I even have a personality sometimes beyond my fave video games/shows/movies, I'm really glad that I'm someone who can experience it cuz it really does feel like I'm just sitting around and waiting if I don't have a story to think about all the time. sometimes I hear people talk about how stressful and sad it is that they feel so deeply and I'm like yeah I mean sometimes but like...what about the joy. what about all the love. there's nothing sad about it! embarrassing sometimes yeah but that's worth it if it means I get to be so deeply happy and excited! I'll complain from time to time but never in a THOUSAND years would I ever want to change this about myself. I will take all the embarrassing annoying feelings if it means I get to experience pure wild autistic joy haha
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Surprise surprise I love Baldurs Gate 3
Officially, I adore Gale and Karlach the most. But of course, our resident Vampiric bastard has wormed his way into my heart.
Today though, idk if I'm pleased or shocked to say a one off conversation with Astarion at the beginning of the game has made me question my gender as it is.
I was playing a male dragonborn durge (fav option so far but I only did fem/neutral pronouns in my last 2 playthroughs.) And when Astarion talks about death options if you turn into a mind flayer, you can ask how he wants you to kill him. He says he'd like to see you try, "my dear". If you have a male tav/durge. He says "my boy"
I sat staring at my computer for ten minutes because it was such a casual delivery and it made me feel many things I wasn't prepared to feel
So have my written rendition of that scenario
Talks of gender- reader is described as female at birth while looking more masculine but uncaring of gender with a revelation over how nice it is to be referred to with male pronouns
Reader beyond that isn't described at all
~
"Oh, my boy, I'd like to see you try."
One comment from your newest traveling companion was all it took to send your mind spiralling. The pale elf had struck you up with a conversation about how best to kill you should the tadpole take effect and turn you into a mind flayer.
An amusing topic if the risk of reality didn't exist. Only once you questioned how he'd prefer you kill him should the scenario take place for him instead, his remark left you frozen in place.
Not fear, nor anger, but a state of shock over a term. 'My Boy.'
Truly you never looked feminine, that was a simple fact. But you were born with a girls body. With a longstanding confusion in regards to gender, evolving to acceptance of the fact that you held no care for how you were referred to, or with what pronouns, obviously you were open to most any. But those who'd known you knew your biological gender, and referred to you strictly as such- even when you'd say they could refer to you as any and all of them.
Astarion, as he'd just met you and had only seen you in bulky armor- didn't know of the biological gender and took a well given assumption. And the assumption being used so casually, even if slightly mocking set your mind into a silent frenzy of questioning and wonder as to why it sounded so right...
After a few moments of you staring like a deer in the headlights at the rogue, he tilted his head- not in concern, but confusion. Surely such a remark hasn't frightened you that badly? Not after the battle prowess he'd seen in you, hence his newfound decision to be on your good side. After all, a good meat shield went far in many a scenario.
"Ah, dear boy, don't tell me you've gone shy now?" His voice rings out with an impish grin, both amused, and curious as his hands gesture out to you. Such curiosity grows all the more when your gaze becomes all the more startled.
How intriguing...
After another moment, you take a breath, calming what little you could of your racing mind. "Astarion-"
The elf's grin grew as his hands clasped behind his back, almost innocent in posture if not for the expression he wore, amused and entertained at your sudden state of being despite not knowing the cause. "Yes, darling?"
Your voice faltered, you could say you're technically a girl, but that it was interesting being referred to as a boy... Or you could say nothing and experiment with letting someone refer to you as such for however long you'd like.
After another moment of silent pondering, you make your decision. "Nothing, you've just given me something to think about." A vague answer, yet an honest one.
Regardless, Astarion's prior amusement morphs into pure curiosity. "Oh? Do tell, now you have me intrigued." His hand rests on his cheek as though listening to the newest gossip.
You watch his red eyes focus more intently, never one to ignore something someone is hesitant to say. With a sigh, you decide it's probably harmless, not a big ordeal truly. Taking a deep breath, you speak. "I've hardly ever given two shits about gender, but you just called me a boy."
The pale elf tilts his head, the slightest hint of confusion forming in his eyes before it's masked once more, a minute weakness scarcely shown. "Yes, I did didn't I? That is what you are, is it not?"
His question send a surprisingly delightful jolt through your heart. More emotions to unpack at a later time. For now, you remained as collected as you could, which was very little given sudden realizations. "Yes and no? I do not care for gender nor it's presentation, I've always said any could refer to me however they please... But I've almost exclusively been referred to with feminine terms, despite my appearance simply due to the circumstances of my birth... You have been the first to refer to me as anything else." The facts are easy to state, the emotions? Not so much "It... Has given me much to think of -a welcome reprieve of only thinking of these blasted tadpoles- but not one I was expecting to have to negate through."
Through the explanation though, Astarion's expression has morphed slightly less the usual impish grin, and something more patient. There's little understanding in his eyes, but even he can tell this is important, not something to be mocked... yet. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'll continue to refer to you as such until you say otherwise or have figured out this little conundrum of yours."
It's really as understanding as your newest companion has ever been, even if only slightly so. But from what little you've spoken to him, you can tell he's being sincere. It's nice, in a way. No huge reaction, but a simple one that still shows acceptance and support. How perfectly fit for the rogue you know so little about no matter how much he talks. "I'd appreciate it. I think it'll help hearing that until I can figure everything out... Thank you."
"But of course, dear boy-" Astarion, in true eccentric fashion, bows, arms held out to the side for just a moment until he rises again with the return of his usual grin. "What ever else is good company for?"
It's not a reveal of your deepest yearnings, it's no grand acceptance and celebration for the discovery of someone's truest or newest self, but it's your first moment of knowing there's something more to yourself. It's an unspoken acceptance from someone who will over time grow to mean so much to you, even if you don't know it yet.
It's little, only a moment.
But it's more than enough.
#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#genderfluid reader#x reader#letters of yearning#idk how to tag this so look the reader is mentioned to be afab but likes being referred to as a guy is the revelation of the story#oh shit am i trans or do i care about gender in a way i didnt think i did?
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1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.
That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.
(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)
Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?
(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)
It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.
I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.
When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?
He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)
I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.
Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.
The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.
Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.
I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!
P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on
#the sandman#dreamling#century meetings#meta#dream of the endless#hob gadling#the amount of them just not understanding what the other person wants or is offering at first is incredible#1489#1589#an essay#i really do think the dynamics in the first few meetings are SO INTERESTING and precarious
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Borrowed Bride - Achilles x (Fem)Trojan! Reader
Troy (2004) Oneshot
Warnings: Posted from mobile, so no proofreading. Reader is ace coded (I know asexuality as a concept wasn't a thing in ancient greece, but some of her feelings and experiences match with what we consider asexuality today.)
Summary: As a captive of the greeks you are convinced that the unusual kindness of your captor is driven by the desire of winning your favors. Achilles enjoys of harmlessly flirting with you, but you feel in need of dissapointing him regarding his actual chances of seducing you. However, when the oportunity to do it presents you discover a different side of him as he makes you a shocking proposition.
Notes: I made the reader be a priestess and she is esentially put in the situation of Briseis, but as a completely different character making the plot take different routes.
Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @losersclubisms @helie-brain
" The men found her hidding in the temple. They thought she could amuse you. "
Every inch of your body felt repulsion to the sentence delivered by who you guessed was yet another man in service of your true captor. The destroyer of the temple, freshly arrived murderer heading the slaughtering of all the priests, he who must have kept you alive only for one reason. The dead were lucky, at least they wouldn't become the new plaything of a greek captain.
Not only one of their leaders: Achilles of Phthia, the most brutal of them all. He didn't respond to the soldier's tease, but before you could even process it he was carelessly taking off his armor. The action had at least a clear purpose, he was cleaning himself up and you were lucky he wasn't asking you to do it.
It didn't make it less awkward, as if he was bragging to you about how aestetically pleasant to look at he was like it could make any difference. Were you supposed to find comfort because he wasn't an old man?
Silence was as dense as the enviroment, but all he found in front of him was an unamused girl. Your eyes weren't constantly shying away, but there was no reaction. Not even anger or fear. The most impressive man in Greece was simply not impressing you in any way.
" What's your name? " He asked you, trying to start an interaction
The answer was more of your silence and you could tell it frustrated him.
" Eudorus heard your screaming, so i know you can speak."
" It didn't stop your men. My words mean nothing here. "
He smirked, playfull celebration after making you talk.
" Peraphs, or you are confusing meaning with impact. "
A first manifestation of rage invaded you, only centered on your impotence.
" Why does it matter? I heard your friend, i know what you want from me and my priesthood robes will not stop you. If i had become just an usable body for your amusement, then you don't need my name."
He was finishing the removal of dirt, sweat and blood on his skin and finally dressing up. Not much, what he had on still left his torso exposed.
" I have some other interests besides killing and capturing a nameless priestess. I like music, i play the lyre just like your boyfriend god does. "
Your expression of pure annoyance to his blasphemy amused him.
" What's your name? " He insisted one last time, sitting next to you in the grownd. " … Even servants of Apollo have names."
You answered the question and he seemed tranquilized by that.
" Are you afraid, ( y/n)?"
" You tell me, Achilles is a greek synonim for demise in my vocabulary. " You ironically mocked his ask. " I'll struggle against your touch, i warn you. I'm a sacred maiden and i belong to my god, even in captivity. "
He stared at you for an instant before replying.
" And i honor your loyalty and courage, but with me it is unnecesary. I will not do to you anything you don't want me to."
It was a calming statement, but he delivered it with a flirty undertone. Dirt and damage aside, he must have found you appealing and to that man flirting seemed to be as natural as breathing. Not the best first impression, but it was nothing compared with what was about to come.
The commander in chief of all greek forces, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, decided that you had to be his share of the treasure. You were mercielessly dragged away once more and the king made Achilles witness your recapture as a power display. It was an act of pure spite meant to reinforce his political domain of the army, but through it you easily understood that the new master was even worse. Fear couldn't be easily hidden anymore, you were terrified.
Silent tears began to fall down your face and something unexpected occured. The infamous wrath of Achilles was unleashed, he was ready to fight the personal guard of the mycenaean king to get you out of there. Only the visible increasement of your horror stopped him.
He wanted to save you, but didn't mean to scare you.
An even greater idea occured to him, one that would also contribute to the growth of his eternal glory. He refused to fight in the war as a protest, knowing the greek army would be desperate for his contributions. Clever choice, since they got hopeless pretty quick without him. In your insignificant position as a prisoner of war you gave a great service to your country taking him out of the battlefield.
It was a matter of time untill the warrior came to rescue you by himself before the despicable king could hurt you and all chance to pressure him into fighting was gone. You had no idea of what would happen next, but felt guilty by the fact that your personal safety could mean the ruin of your people if he would fight for the greeks again.
Achilles wasn't the worst possible company in that nightmarish place, but you were almost sure he fancied you and that was still a problem. You had conflicted feelings regarding him and the many risks he took for you. He was your captor, yet also your savior. You were supposed to hate him but you couldn't help to feel a bit thankfull. Other men you have meet there being more awfull than him wasn't an expiatory excuse for his hubris driven sacrilege or your enslavement. However, it was a concrete fact making your survival easier. It was making a difference and that was enough in that desperate situation.
The one thing you wished you could change from him on a regular basis living with the myrmidons was the flirty humor. It was uncomfortable even when he let you know he wasn't going to act on the jokes. You weren't going to confront him about it, but you got a proper space to do it during one of his many attempts to charm you.
" Why did you choose to love a god? " He asked you once ríght as you both were finishing dinner. " I think you'll find that romance one sided."
" The way i experience romance fits better with that. Apollo loves me as i am, I doubt a mortal man would. "
He thought you were just sharing a self deprecating observation about your chances of finding a husband.
" Why? I bet trojan men were doing line to get you. Temples tend to choose only the prettiest of their pretty aspirants."
" I am aware of that, i know what men think when they see me and that's why i can't engage in union with a mortal man. I don't have the slightest interest in the consummation and that is usually their most longed part of marriage. My union with Apollo is spiritual and i like it that way, lack of physical accesibility is my preference. "
Achilles listened you with curiosity and didn't hesitate in doing his first ask.
" You are Interested in romance, but you don't like to be touched. Is that the accurate answer?"
You nodded in affirmation with a shy smile.
" … This must be a nightmare for you with all those men wanting to touch you and no one caring to romance you. "
" Indeed, it is. " You added to his conclussion. " The temple was my place in the world. Even in Troy how i feel Is difficult to explain, but no one questioned me there. I found the way of making my family proud while being myself, but you just ruined everything i had built. "
" Pretty much, yes. " He frankly admitted. " Even if you return, the priests will never believe i never touched you. It's most likely that priesthood is forever lost for you. "
You looked at him with hopefull amazement.
" Does that mean you'll let me go now that you understand i'm worthless to you?"
Achilles was slightly disconcerted about your claim.
" Worthless? I don't think a woman fitting for a god could ever be worthless to me."
It was your time to get even more honest about the issue. There was no other way, he had to understand you would never be who he surely wanted you to become with him.
" You know exactly what i mean. Do you think I haven't realized of what's going on? You are different from the other greeks only in one detail. Agamemnon doesn't care about my consent, but he knows that you do and that fear has kept me safe from his hands. I take your words from the first day we meet and it's easy to see what you are up to. You have been incredibly nice to me, gifting me with a sample of your mysterious softness. Instead of eating with your men, we have dinner in your tent and you feed me with the same dish you are having despite you could be making me eat the food of slaves. We talk for hours, you make me feel good in your company and later at night you go to sleep naked. Everytime i flee to Patroclus' tent fearing you were blackmailing me into sleeping with you. "
He chuckled at your still percievable naivety.
" The term you are looking for is seduction, not blackmail. And i have to inform you it's all in your head. I just want to get to know you better and if i sleep naked, that's because i find it very comfortable. Had you ever try it?"
" SEE, YOU ARE DOING IT AGAIN!" You yelled with frustration. " You are calling Eros and waiting for the visit of Himeros. One of the brothers may attend your call, but the other never will. I'm desireless and that's part of how i experience romance. "
The open confession should have dissapointed him, or so you thought, but it didn't.
" Has it never occured to you that maybe i just like you and I am not part of some conspiracy to steal your maidenhood? I'm many despicable things, but never a liar. I do find you attractive, you are beautifull and i can't say i don't like your body. Yes, I would be taking you to bed if you wanted me to…. but you don't want that and i respect it. "
" Then why do you keep me?" You softly asked him. " Which man in your place would keep a war prisoner he isn't planning to bed?"
He had a great answer for that.
" One that accepts he shouldn't touch her but still wishes to romance her?"
It caused some almost involuntary giggling from you, since he was repeating the interpretation of your preferred definition of romance he understood.
" You can't be serious."
He was, but he still have some jokes left to point it out.
" Aren't you curious about how it would be like to have a husband you can see everyday?"
" I'm not going to pretend i'm your wife, Achilles. "
After you explained yourself to him, it was his time to be open with you.
" I'll never get married, a prophecy says i gave up my last chance when i came to Troy and I didn't use to care about that… Now i think it would be nice to experience a bit of what i'm missing before the end. Hector talks about the trojan wives waiting for their men, Odysseus wouldn't shut up if you ask him about Penelope. His wife, he misses her to death… I'll understand if you don't really feel curious about that, but i do. "
Another unexpected move on his part, but it was so heartfelt that you got to feel touched by it.
" Stealing the bride of a god can bring a curse upon you. "
" I'm already cursed. " He replicated with sad resignation. " And it would be a borrow. As i told you, I will keep you pure. You can go back to Apollo whenever you wish, if his priests let you."
" The ones that are still alive, you mean. " You snarked back. " I guess i don't have a choice but to follow you hoping Apollo will understand this madness was your idea. "
" Who knows? Maybe you will like me more than him. " The myrmidon replied. " I will do my best for you, I promise. "
For whatever reason in his vague speech about a prophetized curse Achilles wanted to have someone who would take care of him. It was quite sad to think about, since the mightiest warlord of the greeks was so lonely that he wanted to replace a wife with a slave.
" Put on some clothes and I'll sleep next to you tonight."
The proposition you were making in acceptance of his plan amazed him a bit.
" You don't have to do that sort of effort for me. I understand it's something I can't ask. "
You chuckled, clear and freely, then glanced back at him with an adorable looking expression.
He was lost, but still trying to understand you.
" I do like cuddles. " You sweetly explained. " I will never fall asleep in my god's arms, but cuddling is something I feel curious enough to try. "
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The God Who Stole Me
Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Degrading/Praise kink, cursing, cruel language, mentions of "being worthless and nothing". Unprotected sex, PWP, PIV, fingering fem receiving, oral male receiving, domination, pet names, established relationship, sorry if I miss any others!
Summary: Set in the early days, before Thor 1, you are a mere mortal who found your way to Asgard. You and Loki understand each other in a way no one else really does. There's not much plot, just pure smut.
Word Count: 2,852k
A/N: I don't know what to say, beyond I'm a whore and feral and my hormones are out of my control. If I missed warnings, I'm really sorry. I just thought this was hot as hell. Not beta'd or proofread so all mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!
You enter his office. You cast your eyes about looking for the man himself. He stands before a window, looking out across the realm. At your entrance, he turns his scowl on you.
You step softly on the hardwood floor and close the door behind you. “Yes?” He asks.
You rock on your heels. He’s in a nasty mood tonight. “Came to bother you, of course.” You don’t have an ounce of self-preservation around this man. There was no use pretending.
“I’m busy planning. I don’t have time for you right now,” he says. He turns his attention back to the window.
You study his profile. He wears his casual leathers, the black and green highlighting his dark hair as it fans around his face. His shoulders are hunched forward and he rubs his chin. Planning, scheming, plotting.
“Maybe I can help,” you offer.
Loki’s laugh is cruel and mocking. “Do you think me so foolish that I would accept help from you? If so, you must be a special kind of stupid.”
You only smile. “Right, right. Not like your last dozen or so schemes weren’t complete failures or anything.” You cast your eyes about the room. Your poor baby had been hard at work, pouring over mountains of paperwork.
Loki chuckles with little humor. “I am the God of Mischief, not the God of Utter Failure. Show some respect if you want to leave here alive,” he says.
“You won’t hurt me, Loki. So stop with the threats, you’re boring me,” you sing. Your long burnished orange dress swishes against the floor as you walk about, tidying up things. He hates when you do that. So you continue to do it anyway with a happy smile on your face.
“What makes you so confident that I won’t hurt you?” He asks.
“You love me too much, duh,” you say.
Loki turns away from the window and leans against the frame. He watches you with little interest. Like a cat regarding a poor offering of food. “Do not flatter yourself, little mortal. I could never love something so…insignificant,” he says.
You only laugh. “The lord doth protests too much,” you say and smirk at him.
“Stop provoking me, mortal,” he says. He narrows his eyes. His scowl deepens. Whatever it was that happened to put him in such a foul mood, you bet it had to do with Odin. Curse the All Father, he is a cruel and bitter man. A Has-Been. He heaps praise on Thor and ignores his other son.
“Use my name properly, God of Failure,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Stop being rude.”
He scoffs and stalks towards you. A thrill goes through you. Perhaps he isn’t in that bad of a mood. If he were truly fed up, he wouldn’t engage with you at all. He’d simply ignore you as if you were a fly buzzing about his head.
“I was not aware I had a reason to be nice to you.” He leans forward and looks down his nose at you. You stare at him square in the eye.
“You might hurt my feelings,” you say. You pout and give him puppy dog eyes.
“Perhaps hurting your feelings would not be the worst idea,” he said. He reachs up and strokes your cheek softly. His eyes finally soften, filled with longing and some unknowable emotion you couldn’t name.
“You’d only fail at that too,” you say. You lean into his touch.
“I’m not even trying yet.”
You smile. You back away until your legs hit his desk. You slide backwards onto it, getting as comfortable as you can. You lean back on your hands and tilt your head at him.
“Go on then, let’s hear your best attempt,” you say.
Loki takes in your prone form and his eyes darken. He smirks as he thinks. “You are just a tiny mortal, no more than an insect to me,” he says.
“A good first attempt. Give us another,” you command.
Loki's smirk grows wider. He approaches you until he crowds your space. You widen your legs and he steps between them, running his hands up and down your bare, copper skin.
“You will grow old and die, forgotten by all. You are nothing but an extra who will be left on the cutting room floor. You will fade away, no more than a whisper in the wind.”
“That’s too easy, even for you.” You grip the edge of his collar and absently play with it. His mahogany and teakwood scent float over and around you, crowding your senses. Heat casts off him in waves.
Loki scoffs. He runs the back of his fingers along your cheek. Then he rubs his thumb across your full, pouty lips. “Maybe this will work then. No man, no god, nor creature could ever love you the way you want to be loved. You are doomed to a life of eternal loneliness and misery.”
You pretend to yawn. You smack your lips and blink sleepily at him.
Loki’s answering chuckle vibrates his whole body. Standing between your legs as he is, you feel him. He trails his long fingers along the length of your neck before sliding up under your chin and lifts it.
“You will live out your days as a mere plaything, used and discarded by whoever deigns to give you their attention.”
A slow grin spreads across your face. “Are you the God of Stating the Obvious?”
“You are worthless and unlovable. Weak. Your life is pathetic,” he continues.
You give a lazy shrug. “I’m waiting for my feelings to be hurt,�� you say.
“Why would anyone want you? You are not even attractive,” he says. His eyes roam over your body with a mild disgusted face. You suppress a giggle.
“Attacking my beauty is also too easy. I guess you’re not capable of hurting my feelings. The God of Utter Failure, I see.”
Loki smiles seductively, leaning down to kiss along your neck, your jaw, and the corners over your lips. “You are truly frail and breakable,” he says. He captures your lips in his. His fingers grab the hem of your dress and lift it. His hands trail up your bare legs, causing goosebumps to raise in his wake.
He pulls your legs wider, forcing you to open up further for him. You gasp and bite your lip. Your thighs tingle with anticipation.
“I’m frail and mortal and disgusting,” you say. You kiss him back, desperately. The cadence of his voice weaves a spell on your body. You react to him more strongly than before. Or perhaps it’s just him. Just your attraction to this all powerful god before you.
“You are mine,” he growls into your mouth. His hands get closer to your pussy and you moan just thinking of what he’s going to do to you.
“Even as ugly and pathetic as I am?”
“Especially as ugly and pathetic as you are.” He licks your lips and pushes his tongue inside to duel with yours. Soon, there is nothing but mashing teeth and desperate cries between you.
“Who says you deserve me?” You lean up and run your fingers through his long, black hair. Your nails graze his scalp. He shudders beneath your touch.
“Nobody else would want you. I am doing you a favor by claiming you,” he says. He leans in again and kisses you harder, nipping at your bottom lip. His fingers dig into your fleshy thighs. He will leave bruises come morning. The thought only excites you and makes your pussy throb painfully.
“A favor from the God of Failure? Don’t make me laugh,” you say.
“And yet, you are a mess before me,” he says. To emphasize his point, he runs his fingers over your damp panties. He hisses. “You’re soaked,” he coos. “You would throw yourself at anyone who gave you attention.”
“Yet I have the attention of a petty, cruel god at my feet. That’s certainly something I can get used to,” you say. You tighten your legs around his waist, needing him to get closer. To do something else. Your skin feels aflame.
“You think yourself above the God of Mischief? You are so foolish,” he says.
“I am the foolish one, yet your hands are on me. Your lips kiss my skin. What god do you serve then? Yourself? Or me?”
“I serve myself. Only my own desires matter,” he says. He finally, finally sinks his finger into you. He coos more about how soaked you are and what a pretty mess you make before him. At the moment, you care so little. You grab onto his shoulders for any type of anchor.
He adds a finger as he swiftly glides in and out of you. The sound of his pumping fingers and your wet suction drive both of you wild.
“Allow me to leave then. If I matter so little,” you somehow manage to say. You make obscene whimpers and cries as he drives your pleasure even higher. You lean forward and bite his shoulder through his clothes.
“You’ll leave when I’m done with you,” he growls. He watches your face as different emotions play out. He can see how much you want to resist. How badly you want to prove him wrong. But your body betrays you. Your hips jerk forward as it becomes too much sensation.
“I truly pity you. Nothing more than a little playtoy for anyone to use and discard.”
You whimper and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans down and nuzzles your neck.
“So, you concede that my body is desirable,” you smirk. His dark chuckle sends shivers across your skin.
“It is your only redeeming feature. Such a pity that it is wasted on someone so dull and dim-witted,” he says. He adds a third finger and you come undone in his hands. You scream out your pleasure for any passerby to hear you. Your nails dig into his nape. Loki keeps up his relentless pounding, making your legs jerk harder.
Your harsh breaths scorch your throat as you try to calm down. Loki’s fingers still and finally withdraw from you. He licks them one by one as he maintains eye contact with you.
“I have to be dimwitted to keep up with someone of your minor stature. Someone so jealous and cruel and prone to childish temper tantrums,” you say.
“I am the Son of Odin and the God of Mischief,” he says. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His tone is disdainful and arrogant. “Pray, what do I have to be jealous of, mortal? You are nothing.”
“I live a full life, free from burden. You are nothing more than a lost boy begging for his father’s love,” you say.
Loki’s face morphs into a mask of pure rage. He grabs your throat and squeezes. You moan and writhe beneath him.
Loki leans down and kisses you softly, reverently. His thumb strokes your neck as his grip lessens.
“Your dense little brain cannot begin to fathom the complicated nature of gods,” he whispers against your lips. “I bet you could never dream that a god would set you free. Give in and let me take what you have desired for so long.”
“Are you not a God? Will you not take what you want?” You have no choice but to look into his piercing, crystal eyes.
“I am whatever you need me to be.”
“I wish for you to be yourself,” you say. You rub your leg against his, feeling his dick straining against his pants. “Only yourself and I shall revel in it.”
“I am myself. And what I am is yours,” he says. He says your name and smiles at you, your game momentarily forgotten.
“Who says you’ve earned me, my god?”
Loki chuckles, still caressing your neck. “You have it backwards, pet. You need to earn me.”
You grin. Finally. He moves away and pulls you to your feet. You stand on shaky legs but hold your weight. You trade places with him. You sink to your knees and unbutton his pants, freeing his cock. You lick your lips at the sight of it. It’s long and thick and a bead of precum leaks out from the tip.
He watches you and plays with your hair. “Oh, my little pet is bold. What a good girl,” he says.
The unexpected praise makes you sigh. He looks down at you with adoration and lust as you pump his cock. You take him into your mouth and he shivers. A low moan escapes him as you work him deeper and deeper. Your sloppy sucking is loud in your ears. He grips your hair tighter and soon, he’s fucking your mouth. You take it all, gagging on him. You can barely breathe as he pumps into you, his salty cum dripping with abandon.
“That’s my good fucking pet. You want all of it, don’t you?” He says. You can only whimper as he continues to pump into you.
You use your hands and your mouth to drive him wild. You fondle his balls as you suck greedily. “Oh, sweet mortals and their tricks…”
You think he’s about to climax but he roughly pulls out of your mouth. He lifts you, kissing you, tasting himself on your tongue. He sucks on your bottom lip as he trades places with you once more. His eyes are on fire, burning into you with a near animalistic rage. He bends you over his desk, your ass jiggling and like putty in his hands.
He drags up the hem of your dress and is too focused on getting to you that he has no time to pull down your panties. He pulls it to the side and slams into you. You both moan from the sheer sensation of him filling you up completely. He stretches you out. A lifetime with him would never prepare you for his size.
He leans over you and licks the shell of your ear. “I will have you, pet,” he whispers, which is a direct contrast from his rough fucking. Your pussy clenches around his dick and he groans.
“Nothing in this world can satisfy me quite like your needy little pussy,” he says. He pounds relentlessly into you. His balls slap your clit from the force of his strokes. He pushes your head down until your upper body is flat on the desk.
With one hand on your lower back, his other hand grips your thick hips. His grip is punishing. You feel his devotion in every slide, every squeeze, every spent breath. It heightens your own pleasure. That he needs you this much, craves you this much. “You are mine,” he says, thrusting with each word. “Vow it.”
“I vow it. I’m yours. I’m only yours,” you say. He’s hitting a spot so deep inside you, it’s like he’s writing his name. He’s marking you and staking his claim in the most brutal way.
“Mine forever? Are you such a good girl to admit it?”
“Forever. Always and forever yours,” you moan. Pressure builds painfully in your lower tummy. Your hands roam across his desk looking for anything to keep you tethered to your body. It’s like he’s trying to fuck the soul out of you. You grip the edge of his desk pathetically. Nothing but him can keep you tied down.
You can hear the smile in his voice. “My pet…my lover…my everything,” he says and explodes inside you. A second later, you release your own orgasm. Dark spots wink in and out of your vision as pleasure courses through you. Loki makes a deep satisfied grunt as you cum all over him.
You shake and he rubs his hands down your thighs, your hips, your sides, and your arms. He whispers incoherent things into your ear.
When you’ve finally calmed down, you shiver from the breeze coming through the open window. Loki withdraws from you. You share a moan. But the ache he leaves behind is nearly unbearable. You cry from it.
Your combined ragged breaths are the only sound in the room as he pulls you to him. He carries the bulk of your weight to the couch where he settles you. He fixes his pants and then sits beside you, conjuring a blanket to wrap around you. He waves his hand and a fire ignites in his fireplace.
“Oh, my love. Thank you. I would rather beg at your feet than bend my knee to any other. The only one I wish to serve is you,” he says. He peppers your face with soft kisses.
“You bow to no one, my god,” you say sleepily. You are wrecked and as you grow warm, you grow sleepy.
“I bow to you. I worship you,” he says. He kisses your forehead.
You have just enough energy to look at him. He gazes lovingly at you. You may not have forever with him, but you certainly have now and all the little moments until then.
If you need more Loki in your life, great news! The Secret Loki Files
#marvel smut#megaminds secret files#fanfic#loki#loki x Black reader#loki x reader#loki fic#loki fanfic#loki fan fic#loki god of mischief#loki laufeyson#loki of asgard#loki odinson#The Secret Loki Files#Loki x Black!reader#Loki x Fem!reader#Loki x Fem reader#Loki x you#x Black reader
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So, I wasn't gonna post anything about this, honestly, but because I was directly asked, here's my 2 cents!
First, I want to thank you for saying you trust me with this! I'm also on the ace-spectrum, and I'm a queer, bisexual woman, so I do have a lot of empathy with you and everyone else who was down for queer rep.
(Also, I do not have Anon turned on for my asks. I absolutely respect your privacy, but I've been harassed before, and if people want to come at me, they can do it with their whole chest. Similarly, if people want to come TO me, I'd love to be friends!)
I want to start off with the fact that whilst I understand that you believe the article, I don't. Call it the skeptic in me, or my media literacy classes during my grad program or denial or what have you, but we live in a huge era of misinformation. A tabloid is not likely to be any kind of reliable source, and a random reddit user even less so. It's like making a balloon full of pudding and having a clown say it's helium. We're not going to know until the needle pops it. Surely, no one would ever lie on the internet.
That being said, as much as I yearned and wanted for Demi Colin to be confirmed, it's not set in stone, and so it couldn't have been taken away from us. Honestly, even being ace-spec, a lot of the HC of Demi!Colin started putting a bad taste in my mouth when I realized that a lot of this predominately cishet fandomw as doing it as a means of keeping Colin 'pure' for Penelope, and that struck me as incredibly acephobic. Sure, they were HCing him as one of us. . .but not because it fit with his character or provided a rich and interesting arc for him to explore, but more so that his identity was an extension of their hopes and wants for Penelope. It wasn't for him as a character, but for him as a prize. And that made me so very sad, so my dream of Demi!Colin died when I saw that happening so frequently. Us Demi and Ace folks deserved better than that, and we continue to.
Either way, I think you are absolutely allowed to feel your disappointment! This is a frustration safe zone! There was a lot of potential this season, especially for Colin, that I feel has been dropped. But even IF that article contains some truth (big, heavy IF). . .idk, I see it through the lens that lot of us Demi folks have had sex. Even no strings attached sex. I know I have. Was I disassociated from it for a lot of the time? Yeah. Was it satisfying? No. But did it happen? It did. I chose to take part in it, and they were experiences that helped me grow. And I am no less Demi for it! IF this article is true, instead of us freaking. . .I feel like it could tell us a lot about Colin's character.
He is a man who has had, largely, no good role models in his life. Not in this regard. Who does he have to guide him? Anthony? Literally said he should have taken Colin to brothels. Benedict? Hell, he had a threesome himself. Why wouldn't Colin be out here thinking 'This is what Men do, this is what my brothers do, why not?' Colin is young. He's 23 still trying to find himself. And the entire idea of 'oh, he's a nerd! no way he's had threesomes' lol, like nerds aren't kinky? Come on, I'm a nerd and I've done way more than people would assume I have. He was traveling for months, and I think this really isn't as huge a deal as we're making it out to be. I ship Polin exclusively, and I love the idea of them having their firsts together, but I'm also not angry otherwise. In my mind, he's still demi. Just like he'll always be ND, even if it isn't confirmed.
Sidenote, o want to touch on something that is somewhat unrelated to your post, but something I'm seeing a lot is the whole 'it's dehumanizing for him to watch two women!' or 'it's lesbian fetishization!'
from the very bottom of my heart, as a gay woman, people saying that can eat me. These are the same people who didn't care about any of our representation, before. They didn't care about having lesbian characters, didn't bring them up. Now that it affects their (largely) het pairing, and specifically Colin as a perfect prize in a pairing he has largely been denied a narrative within, we're talking pieces and pawns for their discontent? No, I refuse. There are legitimate criticisms that can and should take place about Bridgerton's lack of care toward wlw, and especially that our only representation may actually just be a lesbian performance for the sake of a threesome, but this is not a criticism on COLIN. It is a criticism on the PRODUCTION. Because if we had queer women in the series before, it wouldn't be an issue. However, I refuse to have my sexuality used as a 'ewwww gross! look what they're doing! isn't that soooo wrong?' gotcha moment by people who just don't like his character. If we're gonna have a conversation about it, we should have a conversation about it based purely on our actual desire to protect and care for queer women. Not using us as stepping stone soap boxes to prop up an argument.
Queer people are really done dirty in the Polin fandom, and this is proof of it. Demi!Colin is important to me, and he continues living on in my heart and my fics, and even if it turns out that he's fucked up and down the Amalfi coastline and watched live porn, that won't make him less demi to me, personally. Ace spec people's experience with sex is all unique, and honestly, watching seems very in line with Colin's character. I don't agree with peeps who call it weird or gross that he watches porn.
This is an incredibly puritanical fandom, and I find it more and more evident as I spend time in it. The entire 'suffering' 'penance' 'deserve her' 'grovel' train was already very clear in that regard, and then people only wanting Colin to be a virgin so he remained 'pure' and 'untarnished' (legit takes I had to read with my own eyeballs) for Penelope was so Catholic on main that it made me feel insane.
Us ace-spec peeps deserve to be and should have the space to be upset at any developments taking place! We also deserve to be free from people doing pseudo pearl clutching and hiding behind feminist and queer-friendly language to disguise that they're just upset that Colin is getting anything at all in his storyline that centers around him and his own discovery outside of Penelope. Even if he isn't a virgin, he can absolutely still be Demi, Anon! And I hope that brings you some comfort.
Am I a fan of the threesomes foursomes moresomes and live porn speculation? No, not particularly. Am I livid furious throwing up about it? Also no. This series has betrayed me and disappointed me in so many ways, but so has the fandom. I guess I'm accustomed to it, now. But I want to reiterate that we should not believe everything that is posted. Some rando on a reddit forum confirming a tabloid article does not investigative journalism and peer review and confirmed sources make.
But in the event that the season does disappoint and gives us some baffling storylines: this is where fanfic can be such a comfort. It's how a story lives on in perpetuity. I've written trans!Colin and queer!Colin and demi!Colin and virgin!Colin and bdsm!Colin and all sorts! We can give we everything we want. It's our playground and it's meant to be fun.
But over my dead body will I believe a Sun UK article lol
#tagging because i was asked to make it public#polin#penelope featherington#colin bridgerton#hot takes are hot i guess?
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Minimal Losses // Jake Seresin
Chapter Four: Kryptonite
Summary: Jake occupancies you down to the local North Island precinct and is totally stuck by the way you are treated by the local authorities.
Warnings: Jake Seresin x FBI!reader. Slow Burn. Criminal Minds crossover. Sexism, misogyny.
Word Count: 4.1k
Author Note: I want you ALL to know that ONE reblog was responsible for reviving this series and putting it back into my writing roster. That’s all it took. One comment. MASTERLIST
Jake, for the life of him, couldn’t quite get a good grasp on the reality he was falling into. He's sitting at a blackened glass round table, in a conference room that he isn't sure he has clearance to be in, sweating so profusely that he’ll need to change his shirt the second he gets back to base.
He hasn’t even really recovered from seeing how easily one of Ben Stiller's many variants had treated you at the front gate, he’s seething, seeing red, but he has to accept that that’s something you've dealt with far too many times to count to even be phased by it now. Desensitised.
There's a man sitting across from him he doesn't know, he’s only just walked in a few seconds ago with a stack of paperwork and cream coloured files. Sitting across from Jake with a huff, clearly pressed for time. The man with dark hair and brown eyes seems to be rattled, but Jake isn't going to be the one who initiates the conversation. It's so quiet he can hear the ticks of hands on the clock hanging above his head.
Spencer Reid is on his left, sitting patiently as ever as he decides now's an incredibly appropriate time to get some light reading done. Jake swears the guy only started the book twenty seconds ago and he's nearing the back pages. He can’t help but to feel awkward and far less worthy than he’s ever felt while he’s tucked between two PHD having brainiacs. But as the thoughts of unworthiness threaten to overcome him, Jake looks to his right, with anxiety he didn't know he could experience riddling his nervous system, he watches as a soft smile creeps across his face absentmindedly as you take a bite of the ham and cheese sandwich he’d watch you slap together in a hurry in the kitchen of the precinct. Typing away with one hand on your laptop that's prompted open in front of you, catching Jake looking at you in your peripheral is what has you freezing, looking at him with a smile so pure it sends his heart clear out of this world. He’s in love.
“Did you want a bite?” You ask as if you're sitting in the livingroom of the dorm you’re occupying back at base and not about to discuss highly classified information regarding an ongoing murder investigation. “I can share if you want?” You ask again and it only has Jake's heart pounding against his chest harder. You were everything he’d dreamed of and then some. Brilliant minded, whitty, so incredibly intelligent, he loved the way your glasses sat just perfectly on the bridge of your nose. He adored the way you just pushed your hair back into whatever position, shape and place would hold. Jake thinks he’s dying, he’s never felt this kind of sensation before—it’s like he’s floating. He’s never been in love with someone before. “Or I can quickly race back and make you one? You like ham and cheese?”
“Nah, nah, I think I'm good.” Jake rubs his clammy hands on his jeans as you go back to what you were working on. He just sits there in awe of everything around him. How you did this for a living he’d never understand.
“JAG got wind of the ongoing investigation.” You don't even look up from the email Special Agent Bradshaw had just CC’d you in on. “Apparently they wanna take over the case.” Jake sat back as he listened, watching intentionally with how you acted around your own team. “Agent Bradshaw just emailed me a copy of the email chain, seems like they’re really pushing—“
“Well, you can tell JAG, Kas, that that won't be happening.” Aaron Hotchener passed you one of the many cream coloured files he’d lugged into the room as Reid sat up a little straighter with his ears pricked to attention. “Ensign Sue Snelling was just found dead in the engine room of the Lexington, thismorning, that’s three victims, no arrest.” Opening the file, you had to quickly shut it so as to not throw up the sandwich you’d just finished scoffing down. “I've just touched base with Agent Bradshaw, she's in the process of pulling her men from the other carriers that we’d had our eyes on but this just means it's been confirmed a serial killer is currently stationed out on the UUS Lexinton and we need to act now.”
“Did the unsub use the same methods?” Spencer asked as he leaned over to take the file from you. “That’s interesting considering he’d know that killing abroad only makes it easier to narrow it down. Like catching fish in a barrel.”
“Unsub?” Jake asked curiously as he looked at Spencer, his elbows now resting on the glass tabletop.
“It means Unknown Subjects.” You explained, which made Jake frown because he thought you knew who the guy was. “We have our suspicions, now we know he’s on the Lexington for sure it rules out a handful of other persons of interest.”
“You must be Jake Seresin?” Aaron smirked for a second from across the table. “I’m Special Agent Aaron Hotcher, Behavioral Analysis Unit chief—Sorry, I’ve had your file sitting on my desk for about a week now but I trust Agent Bradshaw's judgement enough to know she wouldn’t pick a lemon and I haven’t received a distress text from Agent Kas here either.” Hotch kinked his gaze your way for a brief moment as you dipped your chin. Jake wondered if distress texts were something you often sent out. “So, I trust that you’re up to speed and ready to sign your life away to the government for better or worse.”
“I already did that the second I was tapped out of the naval academy, sir—I’m government barcoded and all.” Jake cracked the slight joke just so he could hear you laugh, it worked. Spencer watched with a questioning brow as you covered your mouth to muffle the sounds that escaped without force. He’d never known you to be one for romance, although—he’d never seen someone look at you the way he observed Jake. It was with kind, compassionate eyes that Jake admired you.
“I trust you'll be a fine asset to the team Lieutenant Seresin, Y/n here is an exceptional analysis—keep up with her and you’ll be just fine.” Jake took a moment to rub his hands against his thighs again, suddenly feeling in over his head. He was used to being the best at what he did—but now he wasn’t even on the register. You could sense Jake was spiralling, opting to fish for his pinky under the table and hook yours with his. Grounding the naval aviator who’d drawn you out of your shell.
“You and Agent Kas will be stationed out to the Lexington with the rest of your squadron as of late tomorrow afternoon—we can’t afford to push this anymore than that if we’re another victim down.”
“I don’t know how you guys are gonna spin such a quick turn around.” Jake scoffed softly in disbelief. “Some of the guys who aren’t privy to this whole undercover investigation are gonna smell that somethings up.” Jake was right, but Hotch was already two steps ahead in the short amount of time it had taken you and Jake to shower, change and head over to the precinct. Sliding a cream folder into the aviator's hands, Hotch tilted his head at you in a shared moment of thought. Jake had his head screwed on tight, Arron Hotchner respected that.
“You’re admirals are in a briefing as we speak, they’ll have to figure something out and figure it out fast because you, Lieutenant, are officially an employee of the BAU.” Jake eyed off the content of the file Hotch had slid Jake. It was his. Anything anyone needed to know about Jake Seresin was contained in that file. Stamped across the front read liaison officer. “Bradshaw tells me you’ve been carrying some old NCIS badge around like it’s made of gold.” Spencer snickered to himself as Jake's cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. You couldn’t help but to laugh as Hotch tossed him a leather flipper case. “So I took liberty and got you actual liaison officer credentials, agent Seresin.”
“Now it’s really official—“ You cooed, smiling at Jake with genuine kindness and admiration as he showed you the credentials you carried around all day everyday. To you they were just another form of Identification, but to Jake? It was something else. He had a duty to keep you safe. That was his only task.
“I haven’t had a chance to organise a weapons training session for Lieutenant Seresin, should I organise that before we go back to the naval base?” You stated and Hotch just shook his head softly. You were good at your job, he’d give you that—but you needed more experience in fieldwork. There was a small part of him that thought you were in over your head with this case—too young, too youthful, too by the book, but Agent Bradshaw had been the one to slap him upside the head and told him to give you a chance. She saw something in you not a lot of people saw. Strength. This was your case and you’d work it start to damn finish.
Much like Spencer, everything was by the book. So when you looked at Hotch as if he’d just told you to forget about the very book you were told to know word for word, he simply replied with something that resonated with Jake a lot more than he’d probably intended it to.
“He doesn’t need to carry a gun to be able to kill someone, Kas.”
“Would be good to at least have him cleared for handling, just for legality purposes.” Spencer could sense the frustration going against protocol and procedure brought you. He could practically see the existential crisis brewing under your skin. “Have you ever handled a gun Lieutenant Seresin?”
“Probably not to the extent you three have but yeah, I’ve dabbled in the odd firing range excursion.” Jake's father had been an avid hunter growing up. He knew his way around a hunting gun, but he’d never used a gun for anything other than shooting rabbits, ducks or deer.
“You and Kasper can head on down to the firing range for a quick skill eval.” Hotch sighed, holding the bridge of his nose. “You’ll need to be quick.”
“I heard Morgan’s in to do a talk on cop killers.” Spencer added as he stood. “I’ll have him line up a skill eval and we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Perfect, set it up, get these two kitted up, signed out and on that carrier before we end up with another victim—“
***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Alright alright!” You beamed as Jake flashed you his new credentials in the elevator down to the shooting range. “You can stop showing me your badge Jake, it’s getting old.”
“Sorry—it’s actually Agent Seresin now.” Jake corrected you as he pocketed the new identity he’d unlocked, another level of self promotion to ascend his already higher than heaven ego. “God, Roosters gonna cream his pants when I show him.”
“You and Rooster close?” You asked gracefully as the elevator dinged, Jake let you walk out first as his hand fell to the small of your hip. Guiding you although he had no idea where he was going. “Seems as though you get along with Agent Bradshaw on a personal level as well as professional?”
“Well, it’s—“ Jake wasn’t sure this very moment was the most appropriate time to go over his relationship with the Bradshaws. “They’re my people, to put it simply.” That was no word of a lie.
As you and Jake entered the firing range, there were a vast variety of men in uniform huddling around one of the firing zones. Pushing through—you met Derek Morgan, a familiar face amongst a sea of people you didn’t know.
“Hey, Morgan? Why’d you call all these people down here for?” You greeted the much older man who just smiled at you, nodding at Jake in the process— acknowledging his presence. There would be a later time for formal introductions, but right now was not that time.
Hey! How you doin kid?” Morgan teased, he was forever taunting you about your age. “Does your mother know you're here?” Jake caught onto the way people treated you quickly. He was aware that Agent Bradshaw treated you with enough respect that it put a pep in your step, but Jake also caught the glances the men surrounding you at the present gave you. Like you weren’t supposed to be here.
“Give me that.” You hissed as you snatched the handgun from Morgan’s hand, placing a single round into the chamber as you walked into the shooting zone. You placed the earmuffs over your ears haphazardly that have been hanging on the hook beside you and with a single exhale and soft shoulders, you fired the round with precise precision.
“Nice shooting Kas–” Morgan promptly complimented you. Taking the gun as you held it out for him.
“Better than Billy the kid.” You beamed, again—Jake noticed the pep in your step.
“Diaper rash makes you cranky huh?” That same pep was gone just a few seconds later. “Here.” Morgan handed you the target you’d shot, there was a bullet hole directly in the middle of the target. “Give this to your mum, maybe she’ll stick it on the refrigerator door.”
The girl who stood amongst a sea of testosterone wasn’t the girl Jake had taken home that night from the bar, you’d shrunken six feet under as your shoulders slumped, taking the target sheet from Morgan. He didn’t know how much his commitment affected you, but Jake could see straight through the tough exterior you tried to front.
“Shit, that was pretty badass, you know—“ Jake caught your gaze as you came to sant beside him, bumping his hip to yours. “For a behavioural analysis.”
“I took an advanced firearms course my second year with the bureau, not that I ever thought I’d be in the field.” With every day that past, Jake Seresin learnt a new fact about you that left him stunned into complete silence. For someone who had the gift of the gab, that was a compliment in and of itself. You’d been the only person who could render Jake silent. With nothing to say.
“Okay who's wearing?” Morgan looked around the group of police officers who just stared at him blindly like he’d asked such a personal question. When no one answered, you frowned. Idiots you thought as you rolled your eyes.
Raising your hand, every man that stood in the room laughed and turned to one another like you'd just outed yourself as some prissy desk jockey.
“Kas?” Morgan even raised a brow in response to you wearing a vest.
“Everyone should be wearing.” You replied shortly. “It’s protocol.” Looking around, all eyes were on you. All snickering, all looking down at you.
“Okay, fair—but baby girl imma need to borrow it real quick.” Morgan smirked, gesturing for you to hand over your vest.
“Here sugar, let me assist you–” a voice called out from the back of the crowd before a gaggle of laughter erupted from the man who all stood around waiting for the demonstration to begin. Jake couldn’t have clenched his jaw harder if he wanted to.
“Oh no thanks, I've been dressing myself since I was five years old.” You snapped back, turning your chest into Jake to shield yourself from being completely exposed as you undressed from the waist up. “All you perverts turn your heads.” You spoke over your shoulder as a horrifying whistle echoed throughout the firing zone. Jake saw red as he looked down at you, watching as you slipped your shirt over your head, unclipping the bullet proof vest that you’d been wearing since you left the base. It left you vulnerable, exposed in just your bra. “Here.” You handed Morgan the vest with a meek look. Fuck you could just die right about now.
“Hey, I’m right here—don’t worry about anyone else.” Jake cooed, his eyes searching yours for confirmation you were listening to him. Tilting your chin up with his index finger and thumb as you balled your shirt up in your firsts against his chest. “I ain’t gonna let no one hurt you.” Jake was quick to whisper. “But for what it's worth? Both on and off the record? I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
You would have kissed him then and there on the spot if you hadn’t been standing where you were. Morgan’s voice brought you crashing down to reality harder than ever as you worked to throw your short back on. Turning so your back was now against Jake's chest.
“Okay everybody listen up, I want you all to take a good look at these lovely little bullets.” Morgan handed out a handful of red tipped bullets. “Cute right? You’ll notice the smooth jacket, pay particular attention to the tip.” Hanging your vest, Morgan pushed the bottom that had it flying back towards the furthest point away from the shooting range. Further back than you’d ever really seen anyone practise at.
“Now you've all seen one of these vests stop a .357 magnum bullet at close range haven't you?” Everyone nodded, including you. Jake nodded just to fit in but he didn’t know shit. “Observe–” Morgan turned, firing a single round into the vest at long range. You weren’t too sure what to expect, but as he pressed the button to bring the vest back to the window, you audibly gasped.
“Son of a bitch–” You sighed, watching as Mogan poked his finger right through the bullet hole he’d shot straight through the vest. Pulling out a piece of protective armour and holding it up. A single round had gone straight through.
“Armour-piercing bullets?” Jake raised an eyebrow as he leaned in behind you to whisper his concern into your ear, not wanting to sound dumb to anyone other than you.
“Yeah, cop killers.”
“Now these bullets came from a suspect one of you fine young men arrested yesterday.” Morgan passed one of the police officers who stood stunned the bullet pierced armour plate that had now been rendered useless. “Yep–that's right, gentleman, and lovely little lady.” Morgan turned to you, the only woman in the room. “They’re out on the streets.”
It made your heart race slightly, the idea of far less protection being readily available now than there was before. What a time to make a breakout in your career, there was a slight moment of regret behind your eyes as you turned into Jake, he looked just as worried as you did but he wasn't plagued with the same plethora of knowledge you were. You should have stayed behind the desk, given the case to someone with more experience, you were far too in over your head.
Morgan handed you the shot through vest, winking as he noticed the way you hung closer to Jake than he’d ever seen you hang around anyone. You were far too much like Spencer in that aspect, walking, talking computers. He smiled, taking in the fact you hadnt bothered to separate from your new partner, clearly comfortable in his presence as you took the vest back. Pressing your lips together in a tight line as Jake let his hand rest on your shoulder.
“Vests are optionals boys and girls, especially girls.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
You could tell something was up just by the way Jake was practically silent in the car on the way back to base. He had the gift of the gab, so when Jake Seresin was silent it wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that something was ping ponging around his that big ass head of his.
“Jake, it's fine–” You sighed, letting your shoulders slump back as you drove, your hands at ten and two.
“I really don’t fuck with the way you’re treated.” Jake’s voice came out far more gruff than he intended it to as he looked out the window. “From that dickhead at the gate to that Derek guy to the way those officers just–” He couldn't finish his own sentence without clenching his jar, cracking his knuckles. “You should stand up for yourself a little more, you know that right?”
“Huh.” It was hard not to feel slightly offended, amongst all the little jabs that had been dealt your way today, Jakes had been the hashest of them all, unintentionally. “I'll be sure to put that at the top of my to-do list, Lieutenant Sersin.”
“Kas–” Jake let his head fall back against the headrest as he turned to look at you. He hadnt noticed the glossy look in your eyes or the way you bit your bottom lip until it was too late to take what he’d already said back. “I didn't mean it like that, I just think you deserve so much more respect than you’re given and if people aren't giving it to you then you need to–”
“Jake, I already have enough people telling me what to do right now, I don't need you adding yourself to that ever growing list.” The drive back to base wasn't all that far, but with the way Jake was burning a hole into the side of your head with his glare, it felt like a lifetime.
“You are the most intelligent person I know, yet you act like you’re less than significant?” Jake questioned, he didn't understand why you let people walk all over you. He didn't understand why you didn't speak up when being spoken down to. He didn't understand what it was like to be a woman in a man's world. He’d only ever surrounded himself with people like Phoenix and Special Agent Bradshaw. His mother and sisters would ever let someone treat them the way you let others treat you. Powerful forces to be reckoned with who took no crap from anyone, including him.
You were just different, Jake didn't understand why you weren't like the other women in his life. For someone as brilliant minded and gifted as you he thought there would have had to have been some sort of cockness to you–a level of I know more than you, somewhere buried deep inside. But you just didn't see yourself the way he saw you.
“The way people talk down to you, it makes me want to break every bone in their body.” Jake saw you as a higher power, a goddess living amongst merely mortal men.
“I am insignificant, Jake.” You mumbled as you turned into the base car park, dreading having to pretend to be someone you weren't. A fighter pilot with balls of steel. You couldn't even stop yourself from getting a nosebleed. “I'm a pencil pusher! I'm not like Agent Bradshaw, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm in over my head and people are dying.” Jake just let you talk, he listened with intent to everything you had to say, wanting an insight into how you saw yourself.
“There is a serial killer on a carrier in the middle of the ocean and my sole responsibility right now is making sure I take him down and you’re sitting here, telling me I need to stand up for myself?”
“I'm not trying to tell you anything Kas, I just think you deserve more respect than what's given to you.” Jake reached gently for your hand, being careful not to startle you as he guided your grip off the wheel and into his palm, fingers intertwining as he brought the palm of your hand up to his mouth–pressing his lips to your pal in a simple domestic act of admiration. “You are so beautiful, so intelligent, it's hard to understand how people don't see you the way I see you.”
“Oh yeah? And how exactly do you see me?” Jake wanted to say as the love of his life, he wanted to say his future wife, the mother of his children he didn't know he wanted. But he knew that sounded crazy, so he stuffed the crazy deep inside and went with something a little more appropriate.
“I see you for you, Y/n.” You had to pull your eyes away from the carpark you'd just parked in for a few seconds to really take a minute to look at Jake. “The reason I came up to you at the Hard Deck initially had been because I thought you were one hell of a looker.” You had to chuckle, you couldn't help it, shaking your head as Jake tilted your chin back up to look at him. “But unlike all the other women I’ve met, you didn’t fall for my crap, you spoke to me like you knew every answer to every question I could think of.” Leaning over the centre console, you smirked against Jake's lips as he pulled you close with his hand pressed to the back of your head.
“I still slept with you though—“ Jake's lips ghosted your own as he smiled devilishly, rubbing the pad of his thumb behind your ear as he kept you leaning into him. “Three times actually, so I can’t be as bright as you think I am.”
“Everyone’s got a kryptonite.” That’s what sent you and Jake into a frenzy, gripping onto each other like you were the last two people on earth, dizzy and needy. Your lips crashed against Jakes as his hand moved from the back of your head to the dip of your neck, holding you in a feverish kiss that honestly had you seeing stars.
Your tongue danced with Jakes like you'd known him for a lifetime, before you pulled away to breath, to find your bearing and remember you were back at base.
“What you saw today, that's an everyday occurrence, to me it's just become an occupational hazard, so unless you are single handedly going to change the stigma surrounding Female Agents, Lieutenant Seresin?”
“That's Agent Seresin with the FBI to you Lieutenant Jackson.” You couldn't help but to scoff, shaking your head as you bit your bottom lip.
“Do me a goddamn favour and get off my dick.” Jake just beamed, wrinkled his nose and balled his fist as if he were celebrating a victory of some sort, looking at you with such bright, love filled eyes. You were defending yourself, well–trying to, in the safety net of Jake Seresin. Your effort was met with a thousand watt grin, the corners of Jakes lips tucked ear to ear before he cooed three simple words that had you drooling.
“That's my girl.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
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#minimal losses // jake seresin#jake seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake hangman imagine#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman x reader#jake seresin imagine#jake hangman x y/n
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i've been thinking a lot about anorexia prevention and how much it revolves around body image. when i was in middle school and high school the most common attitude i witnessed regarding anorexia was "don't starve, you'll die" followed by "you don't need to starve to be pretty. girls who are too skinny are ugly anyway, you don't want to look like that". it came from both adults (including my relatives) and other students. and i think that's a bad approach for many reasons. first, it associates anorexia to looks and body image when a lot of girls with anorexia don't starve to be pretty. as Naomi Wolf said in The Beauty Myth, anorexia is less about conforming to beauty standards and more about feeling in control of your body, a feeling that a lot of girls experience when navigating a misogynist world -- especially girls who survived sexual assault. sure, beauty standards play a big part in the onset of anorexia and social contagion but it's only the tip of the iceberg.
second, painting anorexic girls as shallow and calling them ugly is just discouraging bonding between girls and women. when i was in middle and high school girls who were suspected of having anorexia were bullied and called ugly for it. they were ostracized and i'm pretty sure being bullied at school is not of great help when dealing with an eating disorder. on the contrary, we should encourage solidarity and friendship between women and girls. anorexia is very competitive and trains you to look at your own body and at other women's bodies in a negative, critical light. i feel most strongly that the way we think about our own bodies, as women, is reflected in the way we think about other women's bodies. i do think that hating your female body will lead to your hating the body of other women. if we want to cultivate a healthy relationship with our own body, we also have to get rid of any competition we may have with other women, and we have to cultivate female friendship and solidarity
third, the consequences of anorexia don't boil down to looking too thin and ugly. it ruins your social life and your physical health to a degree many people aren't aware of. it's particularly harmful because when i started starving i thought the worst thing that could happen to me was death, and beside that the only other bad thing would be not looking very attractive. but i didn't care about my looks and i didn't care about dying either. however i did care about my friends, i did care about my academic performance, i used to enjoy little things like going for a walk or reading a book. now all my friends have more or less dropped me because i'm not fun to be around when i keep fainting everytime we go out, i'm constantly zoning out and i have no memory and no energy and i can't perform simple tasks or focus on anything, when i take a walk the only thing i think about are the calories i'm burning and some days my bones and my joints hurt too much and i can't even walk for too long. talking about anorexia purely in terms of looks is creating a misrepresentation of what it actually is and i do think it's failing many girls and women who may have not developed anorexia if the way we talk about it had been different
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