#and I think both ships deserve more time and not to be rushed with the way both were built up
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Everyone is so focused on EJ being jealous of Ricky because of everything with Nini in S1 and Gina in S2 and it makes me sad that his character has been reduced to that. yes, Ricky "stealing" the girls from EJ (or however you look at it) is an important part of EJ's character build up and it plays into his insecurities but I don't think that's the biggest/only reason for the tension between them, there's a big chunk of the show's storyline for EJ that I feel like everyone is overlooking: It was EJ's senior year, the last high school musical productions he'd ever get to be in, and Ricky got the leading male parts in all three shows (also EJ didn't really get to audition for Frozen bc he has to direct it).
In season 1, he was soooo excited for HSM and he had spent a lot of time preparing to audition for Troy, his heart was set on that part and he even talked about how he thought he was the perfect Troy, and he was so confident about it. And then Ricky swoops in, not knowing anything about musicals, having never even seen the movie and having no understanding of the character, only auditioning to impress Nini, and he gets the part EJ wanted so badly. EJ has to be content with being the understudy and then he ended up reading Miss Jenn's casting paper to see why she didn't think he was good enough to play Troy and it was kinda mean tbh (and remember, after he read it he started really trying to be better) and I feel like everyone kind of put him down that season. He was so happy when he got the chance to go out as Troy on opening night but then he ended up supporting Ricky, building him up and telling him he was "the better Troy" and that he deserved the part. In season 2, it's the spring musical and the last musical of EJ's high school career! and we know from season 1 he really wants the lead part, and we find out about his dad's expectations so I think it's fair to say he also wanted to impress his dad and show him how talented he is, but at the same time, I feel like he just wants his moment in the spotlight that the others have gotten, he wants that validation that he is capable of playing the leading man and get it right and just that validation and confidence....but again, Ricky gets the lead, and EJ has to play the villain (don't get me wrong he was the perfect Gaston and I am not mad about that). In season 3, he's so excited to have all his Wildcats at camp with him, and have a great last summer; he and Gina talk about how they hope to be the leads together and it's EJ's last chance to have that spotlight leading role moment bc this is the last theater production for him to be in unless he gets onto Broadway or goes to a performing arts college. And EJ can't even properly audition for it bc he's been forced into directing it, and Ricky got the lead again, as Gina's love interest no less- and Ricky doesn't know the show well again and he casually jokes about it to EJ. And throughout all the seasons, EJ just puts on a happy face and supports everyone else and lifts them all up and helps them out; he's happy for Ashlyn when she got the lead, he's happy for Gina when she got it, he's even happy for Ricky. Even though the girls get to be upset when they don't get the parts they wanted, EJ is expected to just accept that he's not a leading man.
I mean...just think about it. EJ puts in all of this effort into being his best, he spends so much time understanding the character and rehearsing and preparing to be the best he can possibly be and Ricky, who puts in very little effort, doesn't know the character or even story/what the damn show is about, and doesn't really know that much about theater or acting just waltzes in and gets the lead three times in a row. (this also applies to the love triangles as sort of a metaphor in a way) Nini, Ashlyn and now Gina and Kourtney all get their time to shine in the lead roles they always dreamed of but didn't think they'd ever be good enough for but EJ has to suck it up and be happy for them and cope with the fact that this is his last show and he never got that big moment he wanted (despite the fact that he's basically a cookie cutter of the perfect leading man).
edited to add: yes, I do realize season 2 EJ chose not to pursue being the Beast bc he felt he was too busy with preparing for college and pls excuse my mistakes in this post/incorrect facts, it's been sooo long since I've watched the first two seasons so I went off what I thought I remembered when I was writing this post (so yeah, I'm a clown & I'll be the first to admit it but everyone who follows my blog already knows that lol). My mistake aside, my point is still the same. EJ has put in a lot of effort throughout all three seasons- with Nini, with Gina, with auditions, with all the shows, and he also went out of his way to atone for his past selfish actions (even tho he stepped back in s2 and worked on himself) and Ricky swooped in having no idea what he's doing and has effortlessly (if you're looking at it from EJ's POV- not trying to villainize Ricky cause I actually adore him) gotten everything EJ has been working hard for handed to him. In the present season it's not just that EJ is noticing the clear romantic tension between Rina, it's that Ricky is having the summer that EJ wanted to have- having fun, spending quality time with Gina and the other Wildcats, playing the leading male part alongside Gina in the show, enjoying EJ's camp friends (and becoming friends with all of them), participating fully in all the fun traditional camp activities and doing all of this with a carefree, Hakuna Matata attitude while EJ is literally about to combust from stress. It's as if Ricky has replaced him. (again, looking at this from EJ's POV). this is just a thought I had that I wanted to share bc I have seen so many posts about the love triangle and nothing about the other stuff so I apologize if I haven't articulated it in a way that makes sense but hopefully this clears some things up. I still think he should get his time to shine though bc he hasn't really gotten that in the show yet.
Also even though EJ was initially presented as being overly confident and kind of cocky, I always personally thought they've made it obvious he, like the other characters, has a lot of insecurities about himself and the cocky attitude is kind of a façade to hide that from everyone else. And considering how hard his dad is on him with all of his high expectations, I think EJ has probably spent his whole life putting in maximum effort to be the best at everything and acting confident and cocky bc it's how his dad wants him to be.
#hsmtmts 3#hsmtmts#ej caswell#ricky bowen#listen. they better give ej his time to shine as director or something in the last ep this season#HE DESERVES THAT#he's going through it#i will defend ej with everything i have#i love ricky AND ej both#i also love both portwell and rina...like i'll be happy with either endgame but I really like portwell's dynamic rn#and I think both ships deserve more time and not to be rushed with the way both were built up
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Imagine # 1,057
Gif NOT mine.
Year posted - 2023
Rating - SFW (Includes injuries involving flogging obviously.)
Reading time (roughly) - 10 minutes
It's been a while since I watched these movies, so some things are not going to be super accurate. Just roll with it my lovelies.
Pushing Will aside (Y/n) stepped forward to face Davy Jones. "I will take his place." She stated suddenly, confusing both Will and Davy Jones. "You will take his place?" The Captain asked in bemusement, a amused smirk on his lips. "Yes." She stated confidently, shaking off Will's arm when he tried pulling her back. "(Y/n) what are you doing?" He hissed at her, again trying to pull her away, giving up when she shook him off a second time. "And why should I let you take Mr. Turner's lashings?" Davy Jones asked, several of his crew mates chuckling at the absurd demand. "Because then he'll actually learn his lesson." She stated matter-of-factly before continuing. "Will's a proud man, if you punish him, he won't learn, he'll only disobey you again, and the cycle will continue." (Y/n) allowed the Captain a moment to think before continuing. "But he's also a honorable man, and should I be punished for his actions, he'll think twice about causing trouble." She concluded, and she could tell Davy Jones saw her perspective. "Very well. The woman will be flogged." The Captain concluded, his men quickly grabbing her arms, and pulling her to the mast. "No!" Will argued trying to put a stop to this, he was grabbed by his father and only held back for a few moments before he broke away.
"You can't do this!" He shouted when he reached her, attempting to pull the crew members away from her. (Y/n) pushed them away and faced Will. "Don't." She warned, not fighting the men when they took ahold of her shoulders. "If you interfere, you'll only make this worse for me." She hissed at him, her serious expression turning to shock when the crew mates tore the back of her shirt open. "Captain get a look at this!" One of the guys barked with amusement, turning (Y/n)'s back to Davy Jones who stood with the rest of the crew. The crew burst into laughter, and the Captain chuckled in amusement. Her back bare to his gaze, Will gawked in astonishment at the sight, where over a dozen large scars littered her back. "It would seem this isn't the first time you've been flogged." Davy Jones mused, waving his arm for them to continue. "No no I can't-!" Will shouted when his father dragged him back by the shoulders. "Will you need to stop, if you keep this up, they will whip her to the bone." His father warned, and the young man went slack, knowing his words were true. "But shes- I-" Will muttered, cutting himself off as he locked eyes with her. "I know son, I know." The old pirate pat his sons shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him. (Y/n) was shoved against the ships mast, her arms pulled around it, and bound tightly with rope. "She doesn't deserve this." Will muttered mournfully, his heart breaking at the sight of the fear building in her eyes. "She's a tough woman, she will be fine." Bootstrap consoled his son, releasing his hold on him, believing Will wouldn't do anything stupid or rash.
The first strike pulled a pained cry from the woman, and blood stained the deck, instantly getting washed away with the rain. Will couldn't control himself, when the second lashing came, rushing forward to comfort her. "Will don't!" Bootstrap shouted, but it was to late. Will stood before her, taking her hands in his, and resting his forehead against hers. One of the crew mates moved to pull Will away from her, assuming he was trying to free her. "Leave him." Davy Jones commanded, knowing Will wasn't trying to untie her, and allowing him to remain so close to her, knowing it would only hurt him more. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Will wept as she was struck again, and again. Her cries choked and breathless, the pain splitting across her back nearly unbearable. "I swore to protect you." His whisper was pained, as he peered into her watery eyes. "I'm so sorry I have failed you." He squeezed her hands, his own heart breaking at the sound of the whip crack. On the eighth whip crack, (Y/n)'s knees buckled and she fell slack against the mast. Will quickly moved his hands to grab the underside of her bent arms, and pull her to stand up straight. Knowing if she was hunched down, the whip was likely to strike her head, and the man wielding damned thing wouldn't care. "It's almost over." He tried to assure her, knowing the sentencing was only ten lashings. "Hang in there." He whispered, their tears mixing with the heavy fall of rain, foreheads resting together.
The ninth strike, and every muscle in her body shook from the shock, and pain of it all. The tenth and final strike came harder than the others, the force making (Y/n) crumble to the ground, despite Will's attempts to keep her upright. "She has the rest of the day to rest, but I expect her to be on deck working first thing in the morning." Davey Jones dismissed, the crew mates departing to go about their work, leaving Will to help (Y/n). "Take it easy, I've got you, I've got you." He murmured quickly untying her hands, and easing her into his arms as gently as he could. She whimpered in pain, clinging to his arms, her body still shaking from the shock and pain. "Easy firefly easy." He murmured softly, the nickname bringing a ghost of a smile to her face. "I'm okay Will." She murmured weakly, trying to stand on wobbly legs. Instinctively Will wrapped his arm around her back, nearly jumping away from her when she cried out in pain. She fell forward in an instant, and Will rushed forward to catch her in his arms. Now chest to chest, his hands rest firmly on her hips. Swiftly he hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and buried her face into his neck. "I'm sorry, I've got you now." He whispered into her hair as he carried her below deck. Once they were below deck, and away from prying eyes, Will sat her atop a sturdy table.
"I need to clean your wounds." Will stated in a soft tone, slowly moving to unbutton her now ruined shirt. Moving slow enough to give her the opportunity to push him away, should she want him to stop. She didn't fight him, and allowed him to slide the shirt off of her shoulders. Gently he slipped the shirt from her arms, and tossed the ruined fabric aside. He kept his eyes locked with hers, as she sat before him, bare from the waist up. "Why did you do it?" He asked the question that had been burning in his mind like hellfire. "To keep you from causing any more trouble." She murmured, her words only making Will scoff. "Bullshit. Why did you do it?" He insisted. "Because it's what you do!" (Y/n) suddenly shouted as best she could, grunting at the pain in her back. "You protect the ones you love, no matter what it takes." She huffed before slumping forward. Despite the shock he felt at her words, Will was quick to catch her by the shoulders. "You..." He tried to gather his thoughts, a far away look in his eyes. "Forget it." She grunted, holding herself upright and turning her back to him. "My cuts need dealt with." She reminded him, and in a instant Will rushed to work. Carefully he cleaned each of the open wounds, unable to keep his mind from running a mile a minute. His fingers subconsciously tracing over one of the old scars, muttering an apology when she suddenly pulled away from him.
"What happened?" He asked in a soft whisper. (Y/n) chuckled bitterly, glancing over her shoulder. "The life of a pirate isn't an easy one... Especially with a brother like Jack." She muttered the last part so only Will could hear. "Your-?" He cut himself off, knowing if Davy Jones found out, it could end horribly. "He's reckless." She chuckled again. "Just like someone else I know." Will smiled softly when she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I never meant for you to get hurt." Will muttered as he prepped a needle and thread. "Yeah I know." She shrugged a little. "But I also know that what I told Davy Jones is true. Had it been you to get flogged, you would have ended up making the same mistake of pissing off the Captain of the Flying Dutchman." He hated to admit it, but he knew she was right. "And if I was the one to get hurt, you might actually take the time to stop and think, and maybe just maybe you'd learn to keep your head down." She continued, hissing when Will began stitching her wounds. "We can't just do nothing." Will said, trying not to sound angry. "Jack will come for us, we just need to bide our time." (Y/n) said in a soft tone. "Jack? How can he possibly save us? You heard what Davy Jones said." Will argued, trying to keep his hands steady as he worked on her stitches. "He owns one hundred souls... How can he possibly get one hundred souls?" Will's voice was mournful. "Do you know how Jack came to owe Davy Jones so many souls?" (Y/n) asked pain evident in her voice, making Will slow his work.
"To get back the Pearl." Will stated, and (Y/n) chuckled softly. "Eighty souls would have bought him the Pearl. The other twenty were for me." She explained, her words making Will still in his work for a moment. "You see when Barbossa staged a mutiny, and stole the Pearl from Jack, he kept me prisoner. Knowing full well how close me and Jack are, he wanted to rub salt in the wound." She sighed when Will washed away the blood that had spilled as he worked. "I died Will." He froze at her words. "When the Pearl went down, I went down with her. I drowned of all things." She chuckled bitterly. "Jack bargained for twenty more souls to bring me back." She turned to look at Will. "Jack is reckless, a little crazy, and sometimes a selfish coward... But he always comes back, he always does the right thing, and he does whatever it takes for the ones he cares about." Will smiled faintly at her words, she really believes in her brother, and for her he's willing to believe in Jack as well. "You know... Before you told me Jack was your brother, I thought you guys were a couple." Will smiled at the face she pulled. "But I'm glad to know you aren't." He added before kissing her cheek. "I-" (Y/n) tried, but Will cut her off, turning her back around to finish patching her up. "And I'm glad to know you love me back." He added in a soft tone, kissing the nape of her neck, smiling when she shuddered in response.
Once he finished patching her up, he took and wrapped her torso securely with wrappings. And with that done, he removed his shirt, assisted her into it, and buttoned it up slowly. "What about Elizabeth?" (Y/n) asked after a moment, having been unable to think about what he said. "I thought you loved her?" She added. "I thought I did too. That is until I met you." His knuckles brushed across her cheekbone. "How many times have you saved my life, or protected me?" Will asked with a smile. "You need it." She smiled. "Yeah I guess I do..." His smile slowly faded as he thought about what had happened. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through this, that I did this to you... I promise... I promise you I won't let this happen again." Will insisted, resting his forehead against hers. "You know that's what Jack always says, when he gets me into some crazy situation that risks life and death." (Y/n) mused with a grin. "The life of a pirate isn't an easy one, but luckily for me, I was born to be a pirate." She added, making Will smile. "You should get some rest, the Captain expects you to be working on deck in the morning." He helped her off of the table, laid back in the hammock, and pulled her gently to lay chest to chest with him. "Drink up me hearties yo ho." (Y/n) sang softly, a tired smile pulling at her lips. "Sleep love." Will encouraged her, kissing the crown of her head.
Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️
(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)
#imagine#gif imagine#extended#reader insert#will turner x reader#will turner#pirates of the caribbean#pirates of the carribean x reader#will turner x you#pirates of the carribean x you#will turner imagine#pirates of the carribean imagine#davy jones#the flying dutchman#orlando bloom#Orlando bloom imagine#Orlando bloom x reader#fluff
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N x Uzi works and N x V shippers should accept that.
Even though i’m a Nuzi (N x Uzi) shipper at heart, I like Envy (N x V). I think it’s cute and they have a great history. But…
That’s about it.
We need to realize that they are both different people now. Yes, N kind of kept his personality through it all, but he has gone through so much development, mainly thanks to Uzi. Not to mention he got his memories completely wiped out and the only reason he has/had feelings for V is because he felt the remnants of their past stronger feelings. Yes, he got his memories back, but only from the Cyn incident. We don’t have any proof of him having all of his memories from the mansion back.
We don’t even know if they just had crushes on each other. We’re not sure if they really had an established romantic relationship in the first place. Did they only have mild crushes, or were they madly in love? That’s something we’re not sure about.
And lastly, people move on. How i mentioned, they’re two different people than they were at the mansion, with absolutely different lives. It’s not wrong, or weird of N to start developing feelings for Uzi. After all, even though N’s personality didn’t really change from his past one, V has made a practically 180 turn. She’s seen as shy and reversed in the past, but ignorant, mean and murderous in the present (before her character development of course). She’s a different person from what N has fallen for. Plus, let’s be honest, V hasn’t been treating N nicely.
V has treated N very poorly. Ignoring him, pretending she doesn’t know who he is, generally just being mean to him. She probably did that to protect him, yeah, but N isn’t aware of that and really, is that an excuse to behave that way? On the other hand, Uzi has helped N grow as a person. She helps him believe in himself, she shows him what true love feels like (platonic, and now even a little romantic). She started treating him as his own person, as a person who has feelings and deserves to be treated as such. Not just some killer machine that you can use and throw around. And in turn, N was Uzi’s first friend. Someone who finally loves her for who she is. He supports her and helps her grow emotionally. They support and love each other and it’s HEALTHY.
And last but not least, NO. Nuzi is not rushed and the hand holding scene did not come from nowhere. Uzi has been shown to develop some sort of feelings for him for EPISODES now. We can see her starting to develop them in The Promening. Which is kind of a long time ago. As for N, we don’t exactly see him having romantic feelings for her until recently, we can definitely see him start to lose feelings for V since Cabin Fever. The point where he definitely realizes he feels something for Uzi, is in the scene prior to the hand holding scene, where Uzi asks him if he’s good. Obviously, he probably had some feelings for her even before, but i would say that was the realization point.
So, in conclusion, i would say both Nuzi and Envy works. The only difference is that Nuzi is in the present, and Envy is more in the past. But, let’s be honest here, does it really matter? Yes, I am more of a Nuzi shipper and definitely am rooting for them to become canon, but i wouldn’t be mad if Envy is the one who wins in the end. Both relationships have chemistry. And i think we all know that Envy is absolutely tragic and it makes me sad. So, stop the ship wars you guys. It’s not worth it. Let’s just enjoy our respective ships as they are, it is Liam’s show after all and he can do whatever he wants with it.
(This is a Nuzi defend post, I am in NO WAY hating on Envy, as i hope was stated enough. I am just tired of toxic Envy shippers attacking Nuzi for pointless reasons. Oh and btw i am a strong “V is alive, or at least comes back” believer. And that is not delusion, guys, it was clearly stated by J earlier in the episode that the disassembly drones were cloned. Glitch, I am watching you 👹👹.)
#murder drones#murder drones uzi#uzi doorman#murder drones n#serial designation n#murder drones v#serial designation v#n x uzi#md nuzi#murder drones nuzi#nuzi#biscuitbites#n x v#md n x v#murder drones envy#envy#md envy#btw i am a j x v shipper#hehehe#you cant stop me#murder drones episode 6 spoilers#spoilers#murder drones dead end
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I wanna scream I love you from the top of my lungs (But i’m afraid that someone else will hear me) (Soap McTavish x Reader)
a/n: hi! long time no see haha, uh, here’s smth i wrote a long while ago, this takes place in the original MW timeline NOT the reboots, but, yk, same guy haha
tags: TF141 is just shipping y’all together, reader is on TF141, kissing, love confessions, suggestive themes, soap has a scottish accent
summary: You and Soap are stupidly pining, Task Force 141 knows and takes it into their own hands to convince you both to say something.
You couldn’t help yourself. Even if he was your superior, Soap had become more than just your captain. It was evident to the rest of Task Force 141, that they would see your eyes linger for just a moment too long at Soap’s hands when he’d hand you a gun.
What you didn’t know, however, is that they also noticed that he shared your lingering gazes, and heat-of-the-moment glances during a mission, making sure that you were still there, still alive. You were both clueless and the team decided that it would be up to them to knock any sense into either one of you, lest something stupid happens when it all becomes too much.
It all started when Roach pulled you aside when the two of you were off duty, you liked getting the opportunity to dress up, even when you were just going out to drink with The 141, your career was messy. You welcomed every opportunity to dress up, and so you wore a nice dress, nothing flashy, just your favorite. Roach shoots you a smile, sitting you down at the closest table.
“Think it’s just us tonight, Ghost and Soap just got back from another goose chase with Makarov, they might join us, might not.” You sigh, looking around the small bar, eyes darting for the door. “Soap is safe, no need to worry about him.” You clear your throat, wiping your hands on your dress, that reminder is enough for you. You look back at Roach, who offers you a wry grin, “So… the Captain?” You avert your gaze for just a second and then sigh.
“Nothing is going to come of it, so it doesn’t matter, Roach. Our job is to get Makarov and we are going to do our job. Anything else just… Well, it doesn’t matter.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “You’re blind, the both of you. I mean, that man checks to make sure you’re still alive every five seconds. You just both need to check on each other at the same time, then maybe you’d see.”
Roach was being crazy, you had decided, Soap didn’t like you like that. It was too easy, nothing in your life was easy. You were fighting fucking terrorists, that was hell, and as you explained this to Roach he simply raised his eyebrows at you. “Don’t you deserve to be happy, then?” Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you had decided that at that moment, he had to be right. You’d always known it, but, hearing it from your best friend set it right. You stand up, looking over to Roach with a small smile, “You’re welcome.” He mutters, as you grab your bag, leaving a tip for the bartender, and take a quick shot. Liquid courage, you note to yourself as you rush out of the bar.
Your walk back to base, and to Soap’s room has you stuck inside of your own head. Your palms are sweaty, and you debate whether or not you’re actually going to throw up or if you’re just nervous. You lean towards nerves. Hopefully.
You stand outside of Soap’s room, staring at the door, debating whether now is the right time, the right place. Better here than on mission, right? Suddenly, the door flings open, and Ghost walks out of the room, he shoots you a look, one you could only note as knowing, and then you knock on the door, trying to keep it as gentle as possible while still getting his attention. Instead, he sees you when you walk in, his skin is flushed just looking at you.
“Captain…” You whisper and he holds his hand up, “Leftenant, um… (Y/N).” You’ve never seen him like this, “Fucken’ hell.” You take a step toward him, and he takes a step toward you. It’s quiet between the two of you until you clear your throat, here goes nothing. “Captain, I…” You clear your throat, and your stomach is jumping up into your throat, “I have feelings for you, Captain, I have had feelings for you for a while and I just… I needed to tell you, I needed to get it out and-.” Suddenly, you feel Soap’s arms underneath yours, and suddenly, his lips are pushing against yours. You’re kissing Soap, Soap is kissing you. Nothing else really matters, his lips are cold against yours, and you feel his fingers threading into your hair, you press your body into him and he quietly gasps a bit. You pull away from him, eyes full of concern and he shakes his head, “Just… a fresh bruise.” He chuckles, “Nothin’ t' worry about.” And you’re suddenly back in his arms. “Close the door, lass.” He murmurs against your lips and you oblige, his lips nipping at yours for just a moment.
You shut the door behind you, Soap pushing you tight up against now shut the doorframe and you yelp a bit, now it's his turn to pull away, looking at you with concern and yet also, you can't help but notice how widened his eyes are at this moment. "Are ye... okay?" Now, you shake your head. "Nothing a little bit of help can't fix, Captain." His eyes darken a bit and you use this opportunity to pull Soap's lips back to yours while his hands travel down your body, attaching themselves to your lower hips.
"Count this as your training for tomorrow, Leftenant."
#soap mctavish#soap mctavish x reader#call of duty#cod mw2#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap cod#soap call of duty#soap mactavish#captain mactavish#johnny mctavish#soap mactavish x reader#captain mctavish x reader
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For the mini burden au how about nat and reader going to a parent teacher conference or a PTA meeting
Mini Burden
Summary: Anastasia wants to enroll in school.
Pairings: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Mob!yelena
Warnings: cursing, brief mentions of bad parenting, fluff? comfort, mention and alludes to child behavioral disorder.
Series masterlist
“What’s so wrong about her being homeschooled?” Natasha calmy walks around the bedroom grabbing he clothes; she was supposed to be at work an hour ago, but you had other plans that delayed those obligations.
“She needs to be around more kids her age Natasha.” You respond back to her as you sit up in bed with the silk sheets wrapped snug against your body.
“I was barely around kids my age and it turned out just fine and so will she.”
“Why are you so against her going to school?” As your question lingered in the air you had a hunch on the why, but you weren't entirely sure to bring it up yet.
“I’m not against her going to school, I’m against the failure of the education system.” Natasha reveals herself from the walk-in closet, clothes loosely fitted to her body.
“She’s six, the most she’ll be doing is going over basic skills, coloring and eating glitter.” You giggle as Natasha shows distain with your comments.
“That’s another problem, if we homeschool her, she can get advance lessons.” Her expression is unwavering, she's being serious and wasn't in the mood for joking not when it came to Anastasia's education. she had a tough childhood and had the unnerving realization that she could be shipped off to boarding school in a flash if she disobeyed Alexei past his limits. She ended up disobeying him anyway but luckily, she didn't end up in a boarding school she was lucky he went easy on her and settled for making her go to an alternative school.
“Anastasia really wants to go, and she deserves that chance to be around kids and not cooped up in this house.” You wrap your arms around Natasha’s middle leaning your head in her shoulder. "It's safer for her to be home." She responds back to you with a scowl forming on her face. it was a weak excuse out of all the good points she's made during this morning discussion. First it was about the weak education system, now it was about her safety. Which you understood; however, you didn't think anyone could be stupid enough to think about bringing harm to your daughter.
“We both went to school despite the dangers of our family's lifestyle, she’ll be fine Tash.” She doesn't take the chance to reply back to you this time, no doubt fighting in her own mind. "Listen, I know you're scared about her growing up but, she's growing up."
"I'm- I'm not scared about her growing up, who said that?" it was partially a lie, Natasha loved coming home some days and hearing her daughter's feet rush to the door to greet her and annoy her about what she did that day. on the bright side that meant having more free time with you while Anastasia was way at school but then she thought of the dread of attending parental events and school functions. knowing she wouldn't be able to make every single one and knowing she really wasn't interested in going to any of them.
"Oh, you're fucked, and this is just the start of first grade I can't imagine what you'll do when it's time for her to go to high school or away to college." Natasha takes a moment to think it over, zoning out while fixing her dress shirt.
"Fine." She turns around in your hold as you peck her lips in surprise and appreciation., truth of the matter was that Natasha was having a hard time knowing how fast her daughter has grown up despite the fact that she's always telling Anastasia "To be a big girl" or "Big girls don't do this or that." she was just being a protective mother. Natasha wouldn't be Natasha if she didn't have something up her sleeve after losing an argument or giving in to a discussion like this. "But I pick the school." your face falters as hers grows a knowing smug smirk. "Woah, wait that wasn't part of the deal, Nat." She mutters the words "It is now" Before playfully nipping at your bottom lip and turning towards the doorway. “Anastasia!” Natasha yells for the five-year-old from the middle of the bedroom. It doesn’t take long for the small child to run past the threshold of the bedroom door. “Yes, mama?”
“Is this true what mommy is saying about you wanting to go to school?” She nods her head yes. Natasha audibly sighs in frustration before she calms herself down. “Are you sure? no one bribed you with sweets, money or gifts to say this to me?” Natasha not so subtly looks over to you as you roll your eyes at her childish antics. Anastasia nods her head again. “I’m sure.” Natasha releases a breath and kneels down to Anastasia's level. "Well, I guess we need to go school shopping, hm?" Anastasia gasps with excitement and rams into Natasha for a warm embrace.
Anastasia has been in school for about a month now, even though you and Nat went back and forth about picking the right school. She settled on enrolling Anastasia in one of the top schools in the country the only downside about it was the fact that they made six-year-olds wear uniform. regardless of that Anastasia, she loves it. She can't stop her little motor mouth when it's time to pick her up and she always remembers to make something for her family during arts and crafts time. Now you await in the school hallway for parent teacher conference day. You sit next to Natasha in the cushioned seats along the stoned wall both of you deep into your own cellular devices at the moment to talk to one another. You practically had to hold a knife to Natasha's throat just to get her here today. The sound of heels clicking on the floor is what gets you to pull your eyes away from the screen. "Miss Romanoff, Mrs. Romanoff." The woman stands Infront of you with a smile as she greets you.
"It's just y/l/n actually, we're not married." You correct the teacher ignoring how annoyed Natasha is by bringing the topic up. She says her apologies and ushers you both into her classroom. Natasha walks close to you and lowers her voice for only you to hear. " Was that really necessary?" You're amused by her being upset about you correcting the teacher about your marital status. "Was it necessary for you to cheat on me?" You quip back at her with no anger but with a blank but smug expression as you sit down in the wooden chair by the desk. Natasha glares at you for a brief moment until the teacher comes back into the room. "Alright, let's get started, shall we?" She smiles so bubbly and happily it makes you smile softly, and Natasha wants this conference over with even faster. Just tell her that her daughter is smart and perfect so she can get on with her busy day that she had to take time out of to attend this meeting in the first place.
"Anastasia is doing exceptionally well." That alone brought a bubbly feeling to Natasha on the inside so much so that she was in the process of standing up and blurting out her words. "Great this was a nice conference teach." You grab her arm and yank her down into her chair. "Oh, um that's not all." Natasha raises a brow at her and ignores the fact that you just practically manhandled her in front of Anastasia's teacher, she let you have it later. You both could tell she was hesitant on saying whatever it was that was on her mind. You sit forward no longer pressed against the back of the chair and with straightened posture.
"What? is there something wrong?" Natasha hears the concern and panic in your voice and snaps her gaze from you to the nervous woman across from her. "If she is doing well then what else could you possibly need to tell us about?"
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you both its just..." The more she pauses and beats around the bush the more your mind grows rapid with thoughts. "Spit it the fuck out already!" You snap at her which surprises Natasha nonetheless she brings her hand to your back and runs it up and down your back in a soothing motion. "Sorry, about that it might be that time of the month, continue." Natasha sends her apology to the teacher; she didn't need gossip going around town that you two were a bunch of ticking time bombs no matter how true that really is. "She's doing well academically however her socially skills are in a bit of extra need and care."
"What are you talking about? she communicates just fine trust me, maybe she's just not warmed up to the idea of others her age yet."
"She does indeed communicate just fine, it's the fact that she has a hard time expressing her emotions in a healthy way if you can understand what I'm trying to say."
"There was an incident last month the principle said he called, and he spoke with someone about Anastasia and another student here." You and Natasha both look at each other dumbfounded you haven't spoken to the principle about Anastasia and neither has she. "We haven't spoken to anyone about an issue."
"Oh, well I guess he assumed it was you Natasha because of an accent but the person on the phone also said that they'd inform their wife about the situation." You both look at each other with knowing glances. You don't have an accent and Natasha is barely home to even answer a phone that's not in her pocket or in her home office. and know it was Yelena that answered the phone call, Natasha is definitely taking that key back from her. Miss Noelle doesn't ask for an explanation she continues when it's clear neither one of you are going to speak. "Based on my observation as well as other staff members here, we think Anastasia might have a behavioral issue. We aren't sure on which specific kind of disorder, so we think you should take her to see a behavioral therapist." You don't respond to her analysis you're too stuck in your mind with the many possibilities of what this could mean. You tried so hard to not have your daughter fall susceptible to the history of trauma you and Natasha both experienced within this lifestyle. You were really protective and kept a close eye on Anastasia in fear that she'd pick up Natasha's habits. It looks like that fear is coming in full circle. When it's clear you aren't going to respond or react, Natasha once again steps into the conversation.
"That won't be necessary our daughter is fine, now if there isn't anything else you need to discuss with us about Anastasia then we'll be leaving." Natasha says this with confidence as she stands from her chair, but a small part of her knows how combative Anastasia can be sometimes when it comes to discipline, and she finds that shocking considering you and Nastasha practice gentle parenting. Well, Natasha slips up a few times, but she always fixes her mistakes whether if she's alone or if you're there to put her back on the path to healthy parenting. everything after that is a blur you don't recall even leaving the school let alone being seated in the back of the car. Natasha gently nudges you out of your dazed state. "Hey, don't stress about it too much. If there is something going on with Anastasia, we will do everything we can-."
"What? Are you saying it's something wrong with her too?" You scoff and push her comfort away from you. you didn't want the comfort and someone selling you sweet dreams. You wanted the blunt and honest truth contrary to your response to Miss Noelle. Would you be raising a potential psychopath? An enraged child that grows up to become something you fight so hard to shield her from. "I'm not saying that buttercup. I'm just saying if there is something hindering her way of expressing emotions then we'll worry about from there, alright?" She hooks her finger under your chin and turns your face back to her soft but assertive gaze. "Only if we see it with our own eyes that she needs extra care in the department. I don't want to sign our daughter up for things just because teachers say we should, kids have tough times dealing with emotions they're kids for fuck sakes. I'm not signing her up for unnecessary therapy, Tash." She pulls you closer and wrapping her arms around you in a firm grip.
"Only if we actually see her display that behavior that her teachers talked about then we'll take her to behavioral therapy." When Natasha agrees with you there's a brief pause as you watch her, this being the very few times when she's the one comforting you and telling you to be the logical one. "Fine." You agree but you're still pouty and annoyed about this whole conversation. Natasha only smiles and kisses your lips multiple times and a quick manner before you arrive in your driveway. Was it a way to lighten the mood before greeting your daughter? Yes, but she also just wanted to kiss you since the moment you almost went ballistic on the teacher. She doesn't care how turned on she gets when you're mad, Clint lets her know about her weird kinks every chance he gets.
All thoughts of anger and frustration went out the window the moment you step inside the house and hear the small clicking sound of plastic heels. Anastasia was having a tea party with Yelena and Fanny. Everyone dressed for the occasion of a princess tea party with tiaras and of course dresses with princess ruffles, she wouldn't have it any other way. As you scoop Anastasia up in your arms and Natasha heads for her office while practically snatching her sisters arm off in the process, no doubt she's going to berate her for even answering the phone call from Anastasia's school.
She'd be getting an earful from you later but right now you just wanted to show extra love and care towards your daughter. As she tells you about her day while you were gone, as she plasters small wet kisses to your face and giggles with laughter when you bring out the tickle monster. You can't help but think that the teachers were wrong, and you completely have nothing to worry about. That call will never happen and the day of you and your family sitting in a therapist's office will never come. Everything was fine and most importantly your child was fine.
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I saw your Lackadaisy headcanons and I couldn't be happier cause this fandom needs more love. Can you do one for Mordecai with a female reader who's love language is acts of services and physical touch. Like, she has almost no sense of personal space (she really doesn't mean to make him uncomfortable) and if absolutely FLUSTERS poor Mordecai especially when he becomes aware of his feelings after a SLOW burn built up. Thank you so much for the awesome work and keep it up ❤️
Ayo so I actually got like 2 other messages about a Pt.2 to the first Mordecai headcanons, so Im adding this onto that! Again for some reason this murdercat got away from me so its a long boy. I attempted to keep it organized ,, , ,
First order of business, Mitzi ships it.
Back when Atlas bought her that nifty camera, she didn't just take embarrassing photos of Mordecai. She got some pretty cute candid shots of you around the bar, and a kinda-blurry-but-not-too-bad photo of you and Mordecai outside the big cafe window, talking to each other and not aware you were being photographed. It's pretty artsy, if she says so herself. She tucks the photos in Mordecai's desk and directly hands you the silly ones she took of him.
Actually, she clocked your feelings early on, but figured he wasn't interested. Didn't seem like the kind of guy, which is a shame. You're a sweetie. She hadn't seen you both act any different for a long time, so maybe that crush fizzled out? But if you ever bring it up with Mitzi, she's your #1 support. She's gonna set you up nice and give you all sorts of tips that just ... fall flat. Jeez, she knew Mordecai was unapproachable, but is it really going to take this long ...?
Viktor also figured your feelings out (albeit later), but that ain't his business. You had odd taste, though. He thinks it's pretty funny when other people flirt with you and Mordecai's suddenly in a foul mood and doesn't understand why. At least you two aren't hanky panky or anything, eugh, and you keep your heads during firefights. Anytime Viktor tries to bring up the topic (which, granted, is like a grand total of three times), he's so round about and non-direct that you have no idea what he's getting at. Oh well.
(If the idea of you two being a couple is brought up with anyone else, they can scarcely believe it. You? With him? Good luck. Only Atlas seems to see it, though his employee's love lives aren't relevant unless it gets in the way of business.)
Actually, if you're a more exuberant and affectionate type, that just makes people question your taste in him even more. The first few interactions didn't go great - you touched him without thinking, like you do most people, and he flinched so hard it's like you hurt him. Second time he hissed. Right, you got the picture. You became more mindful and considerate of his personal space, that plus an apology goes a long way.
Once you both are more familiar and have more trust, you can put a hand on Mordecai's shoulder or back without him reacting much. You can even squeeze his shoulder if you're trying to be reassuring, or silently warning him. Sometimes you just say "Hey, I'm gonna touch you," and you fix his coat or check a bruise. He lets you get away with more than others because you ask first.
(Sometimes he feels bad for it - you'll rush to hug your friends and you're so happy in their embrace, then you bound over to him and clearly restrain yourself as you touch his arm.)
Eventually you ask for hugs - quick ones! Special occassions only! But sometimes you're obviously distressed so he just. Lets it happen, briefly. If this is before admitting any feelings to each other or even himself, it's brief. If this is many years into this weird sort-of-understanding-relationship thing you both have, he'll quietly hold you while you get your emotions out. It's the least he can do, it really is. Mordecai already feels like he isn't deserving of whatever this is, and moreso if you're clearly someone who needs and wants physical attention and comfort.
But he does try, in his way. He'll reach over and take your hand. He gets used to sitting shoulder to shoulder, your tails brushing each other, or letting you lean on him when you're both exhausted. He actually likes it quite a bit when you slightly lean as you read and he does paperwork. It's nice to have that solid warmth, and comfortable quiet.
Mordecai lives in the main building above the cafe, long after he could afford an apartment. More economical and practical, he reasons. If Atlas needs something, he's right there. When you begin inviting him to dinner at your place, very slowly, he starts lingering afterward. Mordecai tries to make it like it's because it's easier to do numbers there - better lighting, your place is quieter, and so on. Nevermind the warm dinner and the nice fire in the fireplace and some low music on the radio and you reading something while his pencil scratches the paper. It ... really brings up some old thoughts and memories.
You've gotten bits and pieces of his family history during these times, usually after you've shared some of his own first. Clearly he doesn't like talking about it. You don't push it. You just listen to what he volunteers, and thank him for listening to you in kind.
Note, he always goes home, no matter how late it is. You feel like it's one of those lines that'll be tough to cross. Hell, just inviting him over was tough at first. He walked into your living space just fine in the day, when he was waiting to pick you up for a job. There'd be some comments on the dust or some examining of your plants, but nothing odd. When he comes by for dinner, he's initially tense until he settles in, and eventually he's quite at ease. Over the years he brought several plants in because he always heard you're supposed to bring flowers for the host, but flowers die quickly, and besides this variety of ivy is different because --
(You end up with a tidy windowsill of houseplants, and start having to put some on your counters. Mordecai gets flustered and suggests maybe you should get rid of some, and you reply you absolutely won't. When he waits for you to get ready, he checks their water and pulls some dead leaves. Might as well, right?)
As expected, kissing and intimate touches will be slow-going. You start simple: a quick good-bye kiss on the cheek when he leaves your apartment in the evening. The first time, Mordecai's hairs stand on end and his tail poofs up but! He assures you it was fine. He's fine. When the bar's empty and he's heading out, you give a quick 'good luck' kiss before hurrying off. You initiate all of them until one day when you'te both walking to the car, covered in (someone else's) blood and debating something silly, and once there's a lull in the conversation he just. Leans over and kisses you. It's only lasts a few seconds, then he just pulls away, fixes his glasses and trips walks to the car.
You're a bit dazed the rest of the drive and he's just a mess of nerves.
After that you can give him kisses now and again, but he gets flustered easily and it’s definitely a private matter. It's only around Viktor that you can touch and fuss over Mordecai, but that only leads to the old man snorting and the two of them starting to argue. Viktor's pretty damn surprised you're both that close, though. How long has it been that way?
Oh, and then there's drunk Mordecai. Oh boy.
This has only happened like, two times, because he does not drink. Period, the end, close curtain. He knows how he gets and he hates it. It doesn't take much of whatever questionable piss whiskey to get him swaying and seeing double. He'll flop on your shoulder and ramble about you're so wonderful and he's really not sure why you like him, also could you stop moving the room, oh and he's killed a man for you, but nevermind that you're such a darling person --
He's so sloshed. The novelty starts to wear off when he's falling over and you're having to get him home because apparently Viktor did it last time. At least Mordecai's a bean pole. If he's drunk in your apartment, thank god, you can just pull him over to your room so he can sleep it off. He's still going on about who-knows-what while you take off his shoes and coat. What's this about murdering who for you? Whatever, he's probably confused. Probably.
(You sleep on the couch and at 7am sharp you're awakened by a loud THUNK and panicked shouting as he still-drunkedly tries to orient himself and figure out where the hell he is. Hes so humiliated by everything he just avoids you for several days.)
Oh, last thing.
Mordecai will kill someone for you. Period. No questions asked. Viktor would too, yes, but after explaining and questioning and he'd go with you and hide the body. Mordecai just does it. Abusive partner, debt collector, a rival gang member tailing you, whoever - they're done for. He doesn't bring it up until you ask questions.
#i apologize for the length he isnt even my favorite i SWEAR#i just have MANY THOUGHTS#mordecai heller x reader#lackadaisy x reader
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celebrate the sunrise and set (CWFKB #19)
Celebratory kiss @codywanfirstkissbingo Canon Divergence - Rebel Cody, Obi-Wan doesn't die
Ben Kenobi tucks himself away, creases the name he has worn for decades along barely-there folds and places it in the bottom of the pack that he had somehow managed to keep with him from Tatooine to a rebel base. There’s a flurry of activity spilling out from the corridors, rushed footsteps heading everywhere at once, and Obi-Wan sets his back against a sturdy looking pile of crates and watches them move. The Force bleeds through his veins, warmth spiralling down his spine like a caress and he’s home and has never been further from it in the same breath. Obi-Wan looks to his left, the gesture ingrained into him and reinforced from a lifetime of expectation and disappointment when he is alone, and returns his careful sentry to the mismatched collections of ships spilling across the hangar bay.
Some are more organised than others, spaced the regulation distance apart and Obi-Wan knows without needing to walk it heel-to-toe the exact dimensions of the bay marked out onto the floor by nothing more than a handful of stern words and a glare. Someone in this base has been trained by a clone. He won’t tear his heart into shreds anymore by thinking that the clone could be one of his men, that they could have escaped the whispered commands of the chip implanted in their head and somehow found their way here. The universe is too big to consider and his men deserve some peace after everything Obi-Wan could have protected them from. Another glance at the empty space at his side. Another breath that catches on every barely-healed wound in his soul.
There is a group moving towards the hangar. Their footsteps echo and, for a moment, they’re in perfect unison, a wall of sound that carries as much of a presence as the men wearing the armour. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, he is old and he can be foolish for a moment, and listens to the sound of an army mobilising. Not as organised as his men but he can pretend.
“Should have let me reorganise the ships.”
That voice.
“I know it’s an older system but it works. Less of this unorganised milling about like a group of lothcats let out into a solarium. Alpha-17 would have beaten me over the head with my own vambrace if I let my squad run around like that.”
Obi-Wan looks. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.
Cody looks like how Obi-Wan remembers. He’s aged, silver overrunning the black in his curls and fresh lines at the corners of his eyes and his mouth. More from sorrow than joy, Obi-Wan thinks, and likely matches the passage of time imprinted on his own features. His scar is still striking, dark despite the decades it had been since he had first received it, and there is a fresher tattoo covering his other eye, a broken red line from his scalp to his chin. His armour is piecemeal, some painted plastoid over his chest and the sheen of beskar on his vambraces, and his clothes beneath it are equally mismatched in various shades of dark brown. He’s breathtakingly beautiful even so.
“Disgraceful,” Cody continues, settling his hands on his hips before they slide down to his sides. His back is perfectly straight, the posture that Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he had forgotten about burning bright across his thoughts. How could he have forgotten anything about Cody? He loves him more than anything else in the universe and he had left him behind because of his duty. They had both known it would be a possibility, but that hadn’t made it hurt any less.
He doesn’t know what to say.
He doesn’t know if he should say anything.
Cody seems happy here, balanced enough to grin at a teasing remark one of the pilots call over to him, to swipe at the back of another’s head as they pass in a gesture that is all showmanship and no substance, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t take this piece of stability away from him. He begins to back away, attempting to circle the edge of the crates so he would be hidden from Cody’s gaze, and his heel catches the side of the crate. It’s loud, far louder than it should be and it is just another sign that the universe wants to see him suffer that Cody looks over at him. Recognition is a quick-moving thing and Cody has always been exceptional in every regard. His eyes widen and his mouth moves in a soundless whisper of Obi-Wan’s name before he begins to move forward. Straight line, direct, and Obi-Wan braces himself for a blow.
He isn’t expecting Cody to crash into him, wrapping his arm around Obi-Wan’s torso tight enough to break and secure enough to put him back together. For a moment, everything is right in the universe and Obi-Wan could tear the fabric of existence open and weave something new from the tattered shreds, then Cody steps away. He doesn’t move far, his palms remaining pressed to Obi-Wan’s elbows as he looks him over from head to foot before Cody glances down at his own torso.
“I am surprised to not be stabbed,” Cody says as easily as he would comment on the weather, it looks like it will rain later, I expected you to kill me.
Obi-Wan flexes his fingers, feeling the absence of anything in his hold, the light void of any kind of blade or a saber. He tucks his fingers beneath the curve of Cody’s vambraces, the first joints digging into the rumpled fabric and luxuriating in the warmth emitting from his skin. “I wouldn’t do that to you, love.”
“I would have.” Cody’s mouth twitches into a grimace, his lips drawn tight, and he blinks up at Obi-Wan. His brow is furrowed like he’s trying to stare into the sun, determined to push back such a fragile thing like human limitations. “Well, before. Do you— Do you know?”
“I do.” It is such a small phrase to try and encompass the forgiveness of a lifetime for his mistake, swearing himself to Cody as if he is pledging himself to the other man forever. Cody’s vambrace bites into his fingers but he doesn’t pull away, instead tucking his fingers further beneath the curved metal. It is a disadvantageous position with his hands occupied and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself if the same blank look would descend over Cody’s features again. He wouldn’t want to.
Cody hums a noncommittal sound, shuffling closer until the tips of his boots press against Obi-Wan’s. His thumbs smooth over the sharp topography of Obi-Wan’s elbows, hollows exposed just as easily as the desert would strip flesh from bone. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Cody murmurs, his eyes dark and wavering with tears. “We should celebrate.”
“This isn’t something I wish to celebrate,” Obi-Wan answers. He should step away, stop intruding on the peace that Cody has managed to find for himself but Obi-Wan wants. He craves in a way he isn’t sure he has experienced before and he knows like he knows the twin suns will rise over Tatooine tomorrow that when he walks away from Cody again, he is going to die. His body will continue walking, his mind will continue thinking, but he will be dead.
“Obi-Wan.” Cody moves impossibly closer, knocking Obi-Wan’s feet further apart with own, making a space for Cody to step into. “I should have died decades ago. If not from a Seppie, then from the Empire, a stray shot in a firefight, or just sheer bad luck. I should have aged into obsolescence and died like I was planned to, but I’m still here. We are still here. So I am going to celebrate every morning when I wake up and every evening when I go to sleep, every meal, and every breath because I am still here. So, please, Obi-Wan, let me celebrate with you.”
Obi-Wan swallows against the grief wrapped around his throat like a noose and nods, unable to speak. Cody raises a hand, Obi-Wan’s desperate grip moving with him, not to stop but only to hold, and cups Obi-Wan’s jaw.
“Kiss me?” Obi-Wan murmurs, his voice ragged and ruined and so full of tentative hope. Cody nods and leans in. It’s gentle, the cautious press of his lips against Obi-Wan’s, his stubble a dull rasp against Obi-Wan’s skin, before he draws back just enough to breathe. Obi-Wan follows him, kissing him again and again and again until they’re laughing into each others embrace, tears streaming down their cheeks.
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what do you think llojavi's child will be? I love reading your hc.
mmhhh i never really stopped to think about it tbh! kid fics aren't really my go-to and i'm terrified of having children myself so it's not something i tend to explore with my ships
but if i had to have a hc for them... i think they'd have a lot of children. all of them adopted.
it just makes sense for them as characters imo! they are both deeply compassionate individuals who know what it's like to lose both parents and know how much it means to be brought in to a loving family. they know.
they wouldn't be able to come across a child who needs what they received at one point and look away.
that plus lloyd is an only child, he always wanted a little sibling and was absolutely delighted to get julian, i think once he gets over the instinctual fear of "oh god what the fuck am i doing i don't know how to be a father" and is more comfortable in his role as parent he wouldn't be able to resist the idea of having a bunch of kids running around their home. i'm thinking maybe four. probably six. no more than eight.
but. i do think the first kid would be javier's fault.
in one of those rare occasions he's not glued to lloyd's side, he'd go out to run some errands or something and then come back with a semi-terrified look on his face and a far-too-small-for-their-age kid in his arms.
lloyd just,,, stares at them for a little bit before taking the kid and charge of the situation. he's never really had any experience with kids but they're just,,, people. in tiny. he knows people, he can work with that. his friendly and straightforward demeanor immediately wins over the child, making him relax and open up in a way that javier's warm but stilted demeanor weren't quite able to.
i'm thinking a four or five year old, just to really hammer down the parallels between javier and him. very tiny. with dark hair and dark eyes. the kind of features that don't really stand out in a crowd.
i think the two of them would think it's just something temporary, just until they find someone more suitable to raise a kid, a good family that could take him in.
neither of them really mentions the idea of keeping the child, at first because it's not even a possibility but then as the weeks pass by because they're just too wary of disrupting the routine they unconscionably created and actually having to take a decision about it.
but then one morning javier looks over during breakfast and there's lloyd pilling all sorts of food into the kid's plate, chatting him up the entire time, playfully teasing him into eating everything he can, the two of them very solemnly haggling and bargaining over just how many vegetables he has to eat in every meal and a wave of pure love and affection rushes through him and he realizes that. oh. he wants this to last forever.
he doesn't mention it tho. he knows lloyd has always talked about having an easy, relaxed life, free of any concerns and burdens. and raising a child is not an easy responsibility. spending the rest of his life at lloyd's side already feels like more than he deserves, he won't selfishly asks for more than lloyd is willing to give.
he will just enjoy however long this lasts and hope the separation won't hurt as much as he's bracing himself for.
meanwhile lloyd caught javier with the kid on top of him napping on a sunbeam like two weeks ago, both of them completely sprawled out and dead to the world, except when they unconsciously moved to chase the moving sunlight and then he immediately decided he was gonna keep this. them. all of it.
he already reached his limit on how many times he can lose his family. he's no longer letting anything else keep him from hoarding his loved ones like a dragon with their treasure.
and he's terrified to admit it but the pipsqueak has already burrowed his way into his heart and now heaven help the soul that tries to take him away from lloyd. he's not above biting.
that's precisely why he doesn't bring it up with javier because,,, he really doesn't know what would happen if javier isn't on board with the plan. he's not selfish enough to make a decision like this for the both of them but he really doesn't think he can give the kid up anymore.
so he just. doesn't say anything. he continues with the routine they've made and hopes time will be enough to make javier fall for the child the same way lloyd did already.
and then this goes on for a couple weeks because these two are terrible and i love them for it. but this is like. not great. it actually kind of really sucks for them but also for the child
it all comes crashing down when the poor kid breaks down on them at some point because someone told him they were giving him away and, hey, turns out, not telling a child who's been left on the streets to survive by himself what's the plan for them because you're too busy worrying your partner won't be on board with keeping him is not a great idea! because he's gonna be lowkey fretting about what will happen to him and ultimately freak out at the slightest suggestion that he's being abandoned again! who would've thought!
they both immediately try to comfort him but they can't get to the bottom of his fears and actually give him reassurance because they don't know if they can promise him anything because they don't know what the other is thinking.
that is until they make eye contact in the middle of comforting him and it's one of those perfect moments where they're in total sync and can have entire conversations with just one look. and they realize how stupid they've been. because of course the other also wanted the same thing. of course they would want to give this child the very same thing they've received from their loved ones. how could've they ever doubted that.
after that is just really a matter of convincing the kid that of course they're not giving him away, he's staying right there with them, they can be his family now if that's what he wants. which isn't really hard because apart from this one communication issue they have actually been pretty good improvised parents to the squirt. and now that they know for sure they will be his parents forever, they try even harder to be better.
so that's how they adopt their first child.
i could go into detail about the rest of the kids are adopted but. that would make for an even longer post and this is already way more than i wanted to write askjhdkss
this is,,, really not what you asked for but it's what came out when i sat down to answer this ask, so like. i hope you still like it nonnie and i'm really sorry 〒▽〒
#hey i got an ask#Anonymous#tged#the greatest estate developer#lloyd frontera#javier asrahan#llojavi#by the way i didn't wanna crowd the post even more but like. when lloyd and javier tell arcos and marbella tha they're keeping the child.#they're so fucking delighted. and also really really relieved because for one moment it looked like they would have to step in#and adopt the kid themselves because there was no way that child was leaving their home now.#so lloyd was this close to having an even tinier new little brother instead of a new son asjdkhsjkf#and listen could they've talked with lloyd about it? yes But. they've noticed lloyd has trouble telling them no when he thinks#they really want something. and they really wanted a new grandson but they didn't think that decision should be made#by anything other than lloyd and javier deciding they wanted to have a child aklsjdklsdfd#also you've probably noticed i haven't named the poor kid. that's because i'm bad at names. sorry. someone help me pls.
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of beskar and kyber {chapter 8}
Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)
Summary: You're slowly getting back to a semblance of yourself after being given a life altering choice.
Word Count: 4.2k (it's a short one, apologies)
Warnings: WE GOT SHIRTLESS DIN Y'ALL, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, trauma, ptsd, nightmares, illness, reader throws up, allusions to past SA (not detailed), gun violence
A/N: this was a rather hard chapter for me to crank out, i wasn't sure how much of reader's personality would immediately show after the events of the last chapter, but i think i managed to do a decent job that doesn't make it feel like it's a different character altogether. she will come out of her shell more throughout the next couple of chapters as she gets used to traveling with our dear mandalorian as an equal
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist
The clearing was silent as the sun made its rise into the sky, displaying an enticing view of warm pinks and deep oranges that bled into the soft blue of the still waning night sky. Your gaze was locked with the visor across from you, so far and yet still closer than anyone had dared to approach you, with an offer no one had dared to extend to you before. But it didn’t feel real, it felt like a ploy despite the fluttering in your stomach at learning the name of the man who you had spent so much time with.
“How do I know this isn’t a trick, Din Djarin?” You spoke with more control than you truly had, voice strong despite the waning tears that now stained your face and left your eyes tinged with a telltale pinkness of their occurrence. Mind working to calculate the situation playing out, an edge of clarity to your eyes now that the high emotions had all but rushed out of your lips in outraged pleas. A new facet of who you were, of how you survived for so long, taking it in and mentally checking it, much like you were doing with the man across from you.
“My name… I have not spoken it aloud since I was a boy. I have not shared it with anyone,” Din took a step toward you, your body instinctively took a step back despite the fluttering in your middle at the confession. It was a warm feeling akin to the heat thoughts of him blazed underneath your skin in the darkness of night, but far more innocent. At the part of him he was willing to give to you, even after you threatened to kill him. “I…. want to share it with you, to prove to you that I will not harm you and give you something in return that could harm me if it were to leave the two of us.”
This was all so new, different sides of the alluring mystery you both posed to each other.
“You saved my life twice, when you had no reason to.” His words were strong, though there was a caressing of emotion in them you had only been allowed to glimpse before. “You deserve the same, you deserve to be saved, given a choice.”
It was hard to believe him, believe the words, the offering he was extending to you. You were sure he could pinpoint the conflicting emotions as they passed over your face. Positive in your very soul that he could tell you had never been handed a choice before and were confused over, especially coming from someone initially hired to capture you.
“It was the right thing to do.”
“As is this.”
“You- you want me to travel with you?”
“Yes, I would be honored to have you aboard the ship.” His tone was solid, with no hint of hesitancy or fraud in his words as they sounded in the air. “You are a strong fighter, a survivor.”
“Free?”
“You are free, I will do my best to ensure it until you wish to part ways.”
“What…what if I do something you don’t like or speak out of place?” The words you wanted to say died in your throat to allow for those ones to come to life. The confession of wanting to remain with him until he no longer wanted you around nearly slipping from your lips as the conversation continued. Because that’s what it was, a conversation. You weren’t being talked at or down to, he was talking to you, with you. He had begun to do so the second you had boarded his ship, even knowing the dynamic that he had initiated by taking you from that compound.
“I will not raise a hand to you, I’ve promised you that already.”
“I’m annoying, I say things under my breath, I-I-I…I’m selfish.”
“Then we can be so together.” A deep chuckle decorated the air of the clearing, making your heart stutter for a reason other than fear and anxiety for the several times since he entered your life. The sound was beautiful, and your selfish tendencies were already returning to you. You wanted more of it, of that sound, of being able to draw that sound out of him.
“Y-yes.”
He closed the distance of the clearing and came up toward you with his hands at his sides as he approached, the rising sun catching his amor in a mesmerizing way. He walked past your still form toward the wall of trees surrounding the space, retrieving the heavy pack he knew you had hidden in the brush. He hauled it onto his shoulder, his cloak billowing more with the weight resting along the upper part of it along his back. “Let’s get everything back on board before some food. Then we can rest after traveling all night.”
You felt a shy smile come over your lips, liking the sound of ‘we’ after being alone for so long. You reached for one of the trunks and hauled it up, following his lead back toward the ship. His steps faltered as he looked over his shoulder and saw the expression. You quietly asked him if he was alright, getting a nod from the man in response.
The hammock from your new pack was secured to the walls of the ship, off in the corner opposite of Din’s small personal quarters, near the wall that made up the back entrance to the ship. Your bag was atop it, heavier now with the other items you had purchased while in town with the villagers just yesterday. A time that felt so long ago, when you were worried about having to bide your time and make a run for it, run away from the man you could feel crossing the space of the hold toward you.
You jumped clean off the floor of the hold when a crate was set down with a loud thunk and you spun on your heels to face the sound. He was rather close as was the sound and your hand was tight around the handle of your saber, instinctually reaching for it. It should alarm you how used you were to his presence that it didn’t register how little distance was between the both of you, but you pushed that thought down to inspect at a later time.
You turned in time to see him using his right leg to scoot in neatly underneath the space below the hammock. There was enough room beneath it and the top of the storage to accommodate the weight of your body while resting.
“For you, for your…things.”
You nodded at him, aware of the weight of his visor taking in the small space you had claimed for yourself. Worry flared for a moment, worry that you had chosen a bad spot or infringed on his space in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It all tapered out of you in a shaky exhale, hands letting go of your weapon as you realized you had clenched your hand tight around it, your knuckles creaking with the effort and your fleeting, overwhelming emotion. Turning back around, you began to unload the pack into the open space of the crate with a small ‘thank you’.
“There…is a small cabin behind the flight room.” He reached out and his gloved hand gently turned you around, so you were facing him fully. You let him do so, your heart hammering in your chest at the casual contact, at his words. “We can make it your own space, more privacy than here in the hold.”
“I don’t want to intrude-“
“You wouldn’t, yours if you want it.”
Your body betrayed you at his words, at the phrasing. You felt your skin tingle as a whoosh of desire flared hot in your middle and your mind decided to recall the feel of his bare hands. You ducked your head, unable to keep a somewhat shared look with him as you pulled slowly from his light grip on your arm. His hand lingered, brushing down the side of your arm to blossom comfort with his touch, as if he was aware of the waring emotions you were experiencing.
“I’ll…think about it.”
He leaned in close, helmet coming to rest on your forehead in another comforting action. Fingers reached out to wrap around his elbows before you realized you were even moving, reaching.
“I asked you to stay, mesh’la. Please don’t feel like you’re unwanted here.”
Lifting your eyes to gaze into the visor, you felt a shudder of something faint make its way down your spine. You were sure the man could feel the way your body reacted to it, this close to you. You could only nod in response to his words, your own too jumbled in your chest to voice.
With a slow nod in return, he was back over on the other side of the space, taking a seat at the makeshift table. The Child was atop it, exploring the food packages around him with excited gurgles. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you watched him, so excited with such a simple thing.
“The village packed us a lot of food, you’re welcome to any of it.”
“Oh, um, I…ate in town.” You shuffled on your feet, turning back to the small corner and began to unpack the items you had purchased in the village. “I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next.”
It was quiet for a few heartbeats, the man focused on opening some of the wrapped bundles.
“You were going to run, even if that transmission hadn’t come through.” He wasn’t asking for confirmation, he was stating it as if he had been privy to the way your mind had been running, like it was second nature for him to know about the things that had occurred in your mind and influenced your actions. Maybe it was, to an extent. Having traveled with him for some time now.
“Yes.”
“I was going to leave a note.” You admitted, eyes falling closed as you gathered yourself. You didn’t reach for anything as you sat atop the other makeshift seat of a crate. Hands in your lap as you spoke, eyes still trained on the Child and his many noises.
Your lips quirked up when his small form turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was clutching a kebob in his little claw, cooked krill pieces skewered onto it. When you reached a hand out to take it, he fussed, shaking his head with a grumble. A soft laugh bubbled up as you opened your mouth and leaned closer to him. That seemed to be what he wanted, and he giggled freely as he watched you tear the topmost piece away with your teeth and began to chew it. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you exaggerated a nod at him to let him know you liked the taste.
He turned his attention to Din and held his hand out once again.
A shake of the helmet made him frown, a little angry grunt sounding from his chest. He mimicked Din, shaking his head and then brandishing the kebob at him in a wave. He bumped it against the front of the helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be. And again, and again. It was making the only noise in the ship other than the odd beeping sound or so that signaled things were up and running.
With a deep sigh, one of Din’s hands came up and pressed something just underneath the front of the helmet, where it settled over his chin. The hiss of the helmet decompressing startled you and your heart thudded in your chest as froze in place across the makeshift table. Surely he wouldn’t just expose himself so casually…? The Creed of the Mandalorians forbade the removal of the helmet, and while that wasn’t the case for all of them, it was a rather important factor in the practice that Din took part in, that he was raised in. The hint of a strong jaw covered in dark scruff was visible as he quickly leaned forward and took a bite from the offered stick.
Just as quickly as the helmet had been lifted ever so slightly, it was set back in place.
The Child’s happy giggles echoed off the walls. He turned back to you with a large, toothy smile. Willing your heart to calm down, you returned the smile with a soft one of your own.
A shout ripped from your throat, and you were thrashing around as your mind was ripped from its stream of unconsciousness. Heart thudding painfully in your chest, panting with the effort to catch your breath, you sat up from the hammock, swinging your legs over the side of it. It was swinging with your harsh movements, the supports of it groaning with the actions. The door to the personal quarters across the hold slid open and Din’s form filled the doorway, a blaster in his hand.
You were shaking, body humming with adrenaline as your mind had decided to replay a rather harsh memory from your captivity. The roaring in your ears prevented you from hearing Din cross the space, moving toward you in nothing but his helmet and a pair of sleep pants. His gentle hands on your knees startled you and you kicked out at him, sending him stumbling back onto his backside and palms to catch himself.
“It’s me, mesh’la.”
You shook your head, bringing your hands up to cover your ears. Your throat constricted and the words you were trying to say warbled out incoherently.
“What do you need?” Din’s voice was dulled, as if you were hearing things through a tunnel. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. It was then that you realized you were crying, tears spilling over your lash line to race down your cheeks. They dripped off the end of your chin, splattering to the floor.
“W-water.” You managed to choke out, your skin feeling so caked in filth and the phantom touches from the men who had held you captive. Poor choice of words, you mused as Din moved to gather a pouch of water from atop the makeshift table. You were shaking your head as he turned back around with it in his hands. He could see the way your muscles twitched even from the short distance, your body reacting strongly to whatever your mind had decided to conjure up during your sleep.
“I need to clean. I feel- I feel their hands all over me.” You were pushing up from the hammock, holding a hand to your mouth as nausea roiled hot in your middle. Rushing across the hold toward to fresher, the door hissed shut just as Din caught sight of you crumpling to the floor in front of the toilet basin and heaving the contents of your stomach.
The sound of the shower running had Din standing in front of the door to the fresher with a change of clothes for you in his hands. He had gathered one of his shirts, recalling the way you had held the first one up to inhale his scent back on Sorgan. A small comfort he could offer you when words failed him, as they so often did, but especially in the wake of what just happened. The knock that sounded from his bare knuckles had you jumping underneath the spray of hot water raining down on your body.
Pausing in your frantic scrubbing, your head shot up and focused on the door through the frosted glass of the shower stall.
“Got you a change of clothes.” Din’s voice sounded muffled through the metal of his helmet and the shut door to the small room. “I can set the helmet to another setting and place them on the sink for you.”
“Th-thank you.” Hopefully he understood with your minimal response that what he was saying was alright with you. He seemed to understand, because the door hushed open, and his broad form filled the space of the room. You watched through the glass paneling as he placed a bundle of dark clothing down atop the sink. His helmet never turned toward you despite knowing he could feel the weight of your own gaze upon him. He left as swiftly as he had appeared, allowing you to finish your shower in privacy.
When you emerged from the fresher with damp hair and a new outfit that consisted of a baggy shirt and pants, the hold was empty. There was a single light left on the wall that held the ramp settled into while it wasn’t activated, illuminating the space in soft light. Your eyes landed on a steaming cup of something left on the table, watching the wafts of heat climb into the air. Smiling to yourself, you moved to take a seat and reached to cradle the hot ceramic in your hands.
You were nestled back in the hammock after finishing the warm broth, the liquid helping to sooth your settling stomach. Despite the comfort of an added blanket and the relaxing residual warmth from your shower, you couldn’t help but wring your hands where they rested atop your middle. Din had checked on the ship’s course before returning to his own space. The hush of his door nearly shutting closed the space off and left a weighted silence in its wake.
Settling down further into the blankets, a muffled sob made its way through your body, and you quickly clamped a hand down over your mouth to stifle it. Eyes darting to the small sliver of space that Din had left his door open to see if it traveled across the space toward him. Nothing akin to fear or worry or the instinct to run washed over you as a bulb lit up and his hand bare hand suddenly appeared and was shoving the door open with swift motions. He was across the space in a few long strides, the fabric of his sleep pants swishing around his legs with the speedy, tempered movement.
As soon as he was close enough, he was leaning over to place his hands underneath the curve of your knees and along your upper back, your hands going up around his neck as if they were made just for that. The blanket fell away from you as he lifted you into his arms, turning away from the set up you had made for yourself.
He carried you across the space back toward the door and it shut behind him as he settled you both into the small bed atop the cot that took up a majority of the space. His body was a warm line beside you, your arms loosening from around his neck to fill the space between your bodies atop the mattress. His hands busy pulling the discarded blanket up around you both, letting it settle around your hips.
Eyes trained on him across from you, breath labored as you took in the bare expanse of his chest. Nearly all of his bronze skin was on display in the dull light that probably needed replacing. Fingers twitching in an effort to not cross the space and run them over the temptation that was so close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closing to shield yourself from the want. As he spoke lowly to you, the rumbling timber of his voice caressed over you in a muffled sound.
When you opened your eyes back up from a long blink, the confusion in them let him know you had no clue as to what he had just said. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and deflated as he let it out in a sigh.
“San,” The sound of your name had you focusing on the visor of the helmet looking down at you as he sat partially up on his elbow. His other arm reached out for you, hand encompassing your cheek as he repeated his soft-spoken words. You leaned into his touch, something you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of or embarrassed about at the moment. It just was, it was right, there was no thinking about it. “Do you want me to turn the light out?”
You reached out tentatively, fingers still twitching with the effort it was taking to restrain yourself from lunging at the man and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his bare chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Nodding in an answer to his careful question as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His body moved around and underneath you to turn the light out, shrouding you both in darkness.
The helmet hushed against the fabric of his pillow as he laid down completely beside you. His strong arms came around you and pulled you flush against him, his legs tangling with your own beneath the blanket. Eyes already fluttering shut, you let out long exhale that faltered near the end. You were feeling completely at ease in the wake of that horrible nightmare, safe in this enclosed space, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the scent you associated with him.
The feeling of his even, steady pulse humming through his skin where your face was pressed into his neck lulled you into a peaceful sleep.
“I’ve got you.”
The next morning, or what you assumed was the morning, due to time being hard to keep track during long space travel. It was something you weren’t sure you would ever get a handle on, not having much experience with longer space travel with the focus of seeking out hideaways. The ship had just dropped out of hyperspace, Din having set a random location in order to rest for the night with less threats. He was currently in the cockpit and you quelled the minor nerves at seeking him out after the breakfast you had made an effort to down alongside the Child.
You were cradling him on a hip as you climbed the ladder leading to the partial upper floor, his happy babbling announcing your arrival to the armored man before you physically entered the room. Setting him down in the chair to the right of the door, you turned your attention to the front of the room.
“I chose Tatooine, a few years ago.” Your voice was quiet, nearly a whisper as you walked up behind the pilot’s chair. Eyes trained on the hologram display of nearby planets. “My hideout should still be intact if the sands haven’t swallowed it. I had just installed new moisture farming equipment before…”
Tatooine looked much the same way as it did all those years ago when you picked it out of all the options you had assembled for a good hideout. Washed out and pale as you gazed at the display of the planet before you.
“That’s where….I thought we were when you took me from that compound.”
“Its an easy mistake to make, both are mostly open desert.” He was watching you as you flipped through the rest of the planets displayed as possible locations for the ship to land next, though he had already programmed it for Tatooine. The ships settings displaying as much when you checked the flight path. You could feel the weight of his visor on you as you boldly did so, not having asked to enter the control room let alone mess with the things he was organizing. You turned to face him with a deadpan look, punctuated by a single raised brow and mouth tight in a firm line.
“A fool’s mistake.”
“You’re not a fool, those kriffng bandits were.”
“Landscape here is more limestone, red rock more prominent on Arvala-7.” You gestured to the display with a wave of your hand.
Any other conversation to be had was put on hold the second a warning alarm trilled from the control panel. It was only a second’s notice before blaster shots landed on the starboard side of the ship. Your legs tensed as you tried to keep your balance through the turbulence, hands going out to grip onto anything within reach. It happened to be the armrest of the pilot’s chair. Your head swiveled around to see the Child’s frantic look, eyes wide and sounds of upset falling from him in a steady stream.
“Dank ferrick, we got someone on our tail. Sit down and buckle up, mesh’la.”
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#dev writes#fic: of beskar and kyber#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorain x you#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfic#din djarin x reader#din djarin x force sensitive! reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x OFC#order 66#order 66 survivor#force sensitive reader#jedi reader#mando and grogu#angst#hurt and comfort#soft din djarin#star wars#star wars universe#new republic#new republic era
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i know ive said before in the past that i don’t particularly want jondami/damijon to become canon because i feel like the writers would ruin it but how would YOU guys want jondami to be handled if it were up to you how they become canon?
ill go first.
First thing, we would have to have young jon question his sexuality in a authentic, nice way. be able to get into his head and him display like “i think girls are cute but… guys as well… is this normal?” just HAVE him be pathetically bisexual, i know that in a comic book that i cant remember a girl touched his hand and he accidentally used his super strength and broke the thing he was sitting on due to his hand clenching in reaction, basically i want there to be some sort of build up. THAT would be super nice bisexual representation. i wouldnt want their relationship to be rushed or spontaneous at all. maybe have it be mostly about jon and him trying to keep his feelings to himself because he doesn’t want to weird out damian, not wanna ruin their friendship etc etc. kind of sad but also itd be nice representation of the queer experience, since the supers are normal people, jon having a cliche and simple story would make sense for him. perhaps as jon is growing up as a hero, he experiences some thing that maybe will go into his feelings, like i know one time where he thought damian had died and he freaked out and rushed to find him, it could be like that, like having jon have moments in his heroism that makes him feel like “maybe i should confront this before its too late” - having jon think about how human damian is scare him in a way to the point he wants to be protective and his agency of needing to protect him be the thing that makes him confront and deconstruct his feelings… between jon and damion - jon would confess first, and for their confession, don’t let it be on a bloody battlefield, let it be in a safe controlled environment. im tired of the adrenaline pumping and passionate kiss trope, let the characters just talk it out so it feels genuine.
on damians side thats where itd be a little harder because i feel like damian would have to go through some stories and be in a place where hes fleshed out enough to start feeling normal human emotions, yknow? since he was raised as a weapon. he could just see jon as one of the few genuine friends that hes had and thats stuck with him. damian could also have a nice moment where he starts feeling simple emotions for jon like, comfort, adoration, missing him or jealousy but he doesn’t understand them so he acts out in a way that makes more sense to him, like the violence and rebellion pent up inside him. in my confession - if there would be a confession though, itd have to be in a safe setting for the both of then where they are just talking like i said. i feel like itd make sense for damian to even reject him at first, thinking his responsibility to the mantle is more important/ he doesnt have time for something like that. and he feels like he couldnt give jon emotionally what he deserves. then they could grow up (and in most people’s opinions i actually dont want jon or damian to become superman or batman, i want them to be their own thing. its the most boring part of their character and would be the biggest reason for the writers to not allow them to be in a relationship because that would mean superman and batman dated at one point or somethting) then after they grow up (it doesnt even need to be a long time after the confession, can be like months or so) and damian confronts himself he can go back and damian could be like “im not good at this type of thing, but i want to try” and then they could be together happily. because out of everything their mantles is the thing that pults them together but at the same time rips them apart. i ship them because they are polar opposites that have the same destiny but their paths are what damages the both of them the most and what holds together their relationship. theyd have to be friends or lovers more on normal terms, hang out outside of robin and superboy which we havent seen yet… at least not in comics where theyre hanging out JUST to hang out. then after they get together they can just be jon and damian, doing normal civilian things, perhaps they could also find different titles to bear as heroes like how dick became nightwing or something.
i also don’t want damian to lose his general, teasing and snide remarks to jon or anyone, keeping their dynamic the way it was as they were friends would be more fun but yeah thats me.
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The Other Woman: Part 5
In the end, Zuko decided that a letter was the least intrusive way to contact Katara. He'd handwritten at least ten drafts of varying lengths- one reaching eight pages before he'd decided that was excessive. In the end he had the envelope messengered over to Katara's apartment by a third party service both to keep her from feeling like he was involving one of their friends on his behalf and to maintain the distance she'd implicitly requested from him. His final draft was written on cream-colored card stock and delivered with a bouquet of panda lilies. He'd distilled his plea into two short lines.
I'm sorry.
Can we talk?
He hadn't expected to hear anything the day he sent the letter. On the second day, his nerves began to get the better of him as he checked his phone every five or so minutes for a missed call or message. On the third day, he berated himself for not saying more in his letter. On the fourth day, he resigned himself to Katara's silence. On the fifth day, despair settled around him like a rain-soaked coat. On the sixth day, his phone lit up with a message.
Can we meet this week?
The diner Katara chose was one they'd stumbled into before late one night after celebrating the birthday of one of their friends a bit too hard. They'd split a custard tart while waiting for a cab. They'd talked about coming back a few times, but they never got around to it. It was a neutral enough spot for them to meet this day.
After the waiter had seated them in a far corner booth at Katara's request, and brought them their coffee and tea respectively, they sat in awkward silence. Katara held her hands clasped around her mug, not meeting Zuko's eye as she waited for him to say something. Zuko took a sip of his tea (some awful bagged stuff that hit his tongue with an acrid, murky taste that lingered), and took a deep breath.
"I owe you an apology," Zuko said. Katara looked up expectantly, her face giving away nothing. "I...I should have stood up for you to my mother. I have no excuse to give you except that I hadn't been paying attention to how unhealthy my relationship with her had gotten."
Katara pulled her lip in between her teeth and her brow furrowed. Zuko could almost hear her thoughts, but it didn't seem like she was ready to speak them.
"I-I spoke to my mom," he told her. "I let her know that I need space from her." Zuko took a deep breath. "I know this doesn't make up for how I've let her treat you, but...I just wanted you to know that I get it. I get why you broke up with me. I would love another chance to prove that I'll have your back against anyone, her included. But I get if that ship has sailed. I guess I just thought you deserved to know that something...I don't know....productive? came from this."
"Why did it take me leaving?" Katara's voice cracked slightly. It startled Zuko, who was beginning to think she would say nothing at all.
"I...I," he stammered. "I was afraid she'd leave again. I was never afraid of you leaving. I knew how much you cared for me, and I took that for granted. I know it's an awful explanation, and I should have listened when you told me before how you felt. I should have told you what I felt. We were supposed to be on the same team, and I let you feel like an outsider." Katara blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"What did she say?" Katara asked. Zuko felt the heat rush to his cheeks again. It would be easier, he thought, if his face would just remain red in shame forever. It would make his scar less prominent, anyway.
"Well..." he said, cringing, "she thought you were pregnant and told me to get a paternity test." Katara snorted derisively and Zuko bowed his head apologetically. "I told her that I needed space, and then I left. She's reached out since, but I haven't responded yet. I've got her text messages in archive. I know I have to speak to her again, and soon, but I needed to take some time to sort out my thoughts." Katara cleared her throat and leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her face gave little away and Zuko wasn't sure how to read what little did come through.
"And what are your thoughts?" she asked.
"I think... I think I screwed up," Zuko confessed. "Not just with you. When I found my mom again, I was twenty. I didn't know what I was doing with my life, and I hadn't spoken to my father in years. Uncle was great, but when I found my mom again, I guess I regressed. I made so many decisions based around her. I turned down a great job because I would be too far from her. And it's not that I regret my life here- I wouldn't have met you if I'd taken that other job- but I gave up too much to be around my mom. I tried to force something instead of letting our relationship grow naturally. I know a lot of it had to do with her insisting she needed me here, and having a panic attack anytime I mentioned doing anything that would take me away from her, but at the end of the day, I'm a grown man, and I need to take responsibility for my own actions. Or...inactions." Katara nodded, taking in a few shallow breaths as she bit down on the inside of her lips.
"I thought you agreed with her about me," Katara said, wiping a couple of stray tears from her cheeks. "I thought that was why you didn't stop her, even after all the arguments we'd had about it. That night...I heard you and her talking in the kitchen-"
"I know," Zuko said, wincing.
"I heard what she said about me," Katara continued. "And I heard you say nothing to her. Nothing. I thought, there's no way this man can love me the way he says he does and not speak up when someone says something like that to his face."
"I'm so sorry," Zuko murmured. He ran his hands over is face. "I am so, so sorry."
"I understand why you clung to her," Katara sighed. "I do. If I had another chance to have my mom... I don't know. I never wanted to come between you and her, but you were supposed to talk to her about it. You were supposed to get her to stop treating me that way. I'm just so tired of arguing with you about her."
Silence hung across the table, and the tension was so heavy that the waiter paused in his journey to get their orders and went back behind the counter.
"You deserve more," Zuko said. "I'm sorry I lost sight of that. And thank you for coming to speak with me today. I-I know you didn't owe me closure."
"How do you know you won't slip back?" Katara's question caught Zuko off guard. He stared at her blankly for a moment before he gathered himself.
"I...guess I don't, really," he admitted. "I have a meeting with a therapist set up to help me work through this thing with Mom. I wanted to have a session before I talk to her again. If she doesn't respect the boundaries I'm trying to set, I'll go low contact with her. Uncle's already volunteered to buffer. Kiyi's going off to college soon, so I won't have to worry about Mom using her for leverage. I see the problem now, and all I can do is work on it. She's my mom, and I love her. I still want her in my life, but I don't ever want to get to this point again.
"You're not doing this just to get me back?" Katara's eyes were sharp. She almost looked angry, but Zuko recognized the signs that she was guarding herself.
"No," he replied firmly. "I still love you, and if there's any hope of you giving me a second chance, I'll take it. In a heartbeat. But I need to do this for me. Because even if this is the last time I see you, I want to be better for myself." Katara swallowed hard and nodded her head.
"It could be a while," she said. "It could take years for you to sort out your issues with your mom. There is a lot to unpack. A lot."
"I know," Zuko's mouth thinned grimly. "But I need to do it. And who knows, maybe my mom will follow my lead and finally get therapy herself. Ikem's told me he's been encouraging her to go for years." Katara let out a mirthless chuckle. Then she sighed and sank back into her seat.
"I still love you," she admitted. "I'm pissed at you, and I don't know if I want to marry you, but I do love you." Zuko wanted to run with that. He wanted to beg her to give him another chance and to take his ring back. Still, he held his tongue, determined not to pressure her. After a moment, Katara rewarded his patience.
"I don't think we should be engaged," she told him. Zuko flinched. "Not right now. I think we both need space to figure things out. But...maybe someday...like in a few months, after you're settled with therapy and have a chance to start working through things. Maybe we could try again? Just dating for a while. We can...we can see if we still work together?"
"And to see if I make good on standing up to my mom?" Zuko added with a weak laugh.
"Is that okay with you?" Katara asked. Zuko hesitated, just for a moment, before he reached out and took Katara's hand.
"That's more than I dared to hope."
"Are you folks ready to order?" The pair turned to find their waiter standing awkwardly at the end of the table. Katara met Zuko's eyes and smiled slightly.
"How about a custard tart?" she suggested. "To share."
The End
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
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In rewatching s8 i have some thoughts. Why it didn’t work as an ending, and what i think could have been changed.
WARNING THIS POST IS LONG AS FUCK, so strap in if you’re interested.
- The feel of the writing is distinctly off. Not bad, but it doesn’t feel like you’re watching Voltron anymore. It feels grittier and more like a high stakes adult animation than the other seasons. Which, again, isn’t necessarily bad, but the shift is too quick and it could have been executed better if they spent more time digging into the individual characters and their growth during s6/7.
- The issue of ‘there’s always a bigger enemy’ starts to make the plot feel stale. You get bored of a bigger robot, higher stakes, more to lose. They start killing people and planets for a cheap audience reaction when we weren’t all that invested in the first place. It felt like a split second decision by the writers to destroy Olkarion. Something like that needs to be pencilled in from the beginning. There were too many attacks on Olkarion, and as a consequence we got too used to seeing it’s people in peril. There should’ve been a distinct shift where we, as the audience, realised Voltron wasn’t going to be there to save them this time. Whether that’s a writing, animation or atmospheric issue i’m unsure. Maybe it’s just a me thing.
- The Atlas should never have been able to transform. That for me was the biggest investment turn off. Why do we need Voltron anymore if there’s a bigger, stronger robot on their side? If they were going to replace the castle, they should have made it clear and stuck with the intention. That’s not a support ship anymore, that’s something else entirely. I’d gladly watch a show JUST about the Atlas, with Shiro at the helm, but it’s not Voltron.
- Too many things happen at once, and it’s massively convoluted. 13 episodes is not enough time to: introduce a romance, have me actually care about that romance, kill off a main character, form a new version of voltron, redeem three main antagonists, AND cutely tie up all the glaring plot holes of the show. S8 needed to be two seasons at least. If things were spread out and more passion was pumped into the writing, it could’ve worked.
- Allura’s character was ruined. She became a nagging, reckless, martyred love interest. I love her dearly, i have from S1, but they did her SO dirty. Lance, too. They both deserved better.
- I think, personally, that Sendak should’ve been the final villain. Not Honerva. Her arc was rushed and her CORE motivation made little sense. They used the flimsy excuse of her corruption to redeem her love for Lotor, and his name was literally raked through hell and back for a very mediocre payoff. If that was the plan from the start, it needed to be hinted at more.
- There was too much, as i call it, flip-flopping. The alteans are alive, now they’re evil, now they’re not. We can’t get into Oriande, but now we can! Personally, i need explanations, and strict universal rules. If those rules are to be broken for whatever reason - it has to be a show stopping exception and a main event. Everything is excused and explained away when it doesn’t make any sense.
- Now, i actually really likes the subtle art style and animation adjustments in the season, visually it was spectacular so i have no critiques there. If only the plot could have done its outer shell some justice.
AND GET LANCE OFF THAT DAMN FARM.
#odesrambles#voltron#keith kogane#vld#voltron legendary defender#lance mcclain#takashi shirogane#hunk garrett#pidge holt#princess allura#coran#voltron season 8#Odesrevisions#This is all a ramble and pure speculation on my part#don’t take too seriously pls and thanks#i so badly wanted to see this show succeed but alas it shot itself in the foot at the end
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hello can you do a xavier thorpe with midnight rain ?please
This has been in my drafts for so long and I did not plan for this to be over 2.7k, but here we are. Midnight rain is one of my favorite on Midnights so I couldn't not write this
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
You've dreamt of writing novels since you could hold a pen.
At nine years old, you wrote your first short story, a dark mystery starring you and your sister Wednesday. Your English teacher was both impressed and horrified when she read it. She sent it to a writing contest for young writers, believing your writing skills deserved to be read by bigger names, but the judges preferred a tooth-rotting romance written by a typical American sweetheart.
You never stopped writing. On the contrary, you were spending more time with your typewriter, perfecting your storytelling and expanding your vocabulary. Those judges were too narrow minded and weak stomached to appreciate your writing.
At eleven years old, you met Stephen King at a book release event. You were the youngest in line and may or may not have skipped school in order to meet him. Sorry, Mrs. Jackson, but Stephen King was of greater importance than your lecture on World War I. You got him to sign your favorite book and dropped a folder with your name on the cover. The horror writer was confused, thinking it was something else you wanted him to sign — it wasn't.
''It's my first novel. I would like you to read it.''
His opinion mattered more to you than those judges from the young writers contest.
Wednesday, the ever so pessimist, kept telling you he would toss your novel in the trash and move on with his day, but a few weeks later, you received a handwritten letter from the man himself. He had read your short story. He called it macabre and at times disturbing, which was a praise coming from him.
Ten years later, you were standing in the very same bookstore you met Stephen King. But this time, you were the one sitting behind the table and signing books.
It felt surreal seeing your name on a book cover.
The New York Times listed you as one of the promising authors under the age of thirty, which made the sales of your novel go up.
You were getting ready for your signing, making sure you had enough pens and that your dark lipstick was not on your teeth when Eleanor, your personal assistant for this book tour, came up to you holding a bouquet of flowers.
''These were sent to you, Ms. Addams,'' she said, placing the bouquet of black dahlias on the table.
You looked at it in confusion. ''Who are they coming from?''
''They aren't addressed to me, I legally cannot check.''
You nodded in understanding and sent her off. Whoever had sent these knew your favorite flowers. Most assumed it was black roses, but you preferred dahlias — like the murder.
You took the small card attached to the bouquet and read it.
Congrats on the novel. I knew you were gonna make it.
X.
A rush of emotions swarmed through you. You had recognized the handwriting, the perfect calligraphy of the boy who once owned your heart.
Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering what your life would be like if you hadn't broken his heart during your last year at Nevermore. You would be lying to say you didn't miss him. Xavier was more than a teenage romance. He was the love of your life, but your and Xavier's vision of the future, life after Nevermore Academy, didn't align. He wanted a comfortable life, away from the spotlights. You wanted the world to know your name.
You tried to make the relationship work, you really did. You thought you could do it, true love can get through the hardest ships, but you started focusing on your writing more and more, and lessening the time you spent with Xavier. He was understanding, knowing how important writing was to you. Sleepovers became less frequent as your nights were spent with your typewriter, weekly dates turned into monthly dates, and the 'I miss you's outnumbered the 'I love you's.
This wasn't fair to Xavier. He deserved someone who wasn't always going to make him second in her priorities. You had always been driven by a greed to succeed, the desire to accomplish your dreams. Love had come to you when you least expected it. It had never been part of your life-plan.
With a heavy heart, you found yourself turning the page on a relationship you thought would last your lifetime, because when you love someone, sometimes you need to let them go. Even if it hurts.
''Madelaine is asking when we'll begin,'' your assistant asked, pulling you out of your mind.
You shifted your eyes away from the card, hiding it in the pocket of your trousers.
Eleanor averted her gaze from you, turning to the beautiful flower instead. She was curious of their provenance, but knew it was none of her business. ''Eh, sorry. I didn't want to interrupt—''
''What is it?'' Your tone was a little rude, but you didn't get to apologize.
''There's a line outside that extends to the café and the owner is complaining that it's blocking the way and interfering with his business. Madelaine is asking when we'll begin.''
You glanced at the large clock on the wall. ''I'm meeting Wednesday and Enid for lunch at 1pm. I need to be finished by then.''
Eleanor nodded. ''I'll tell Madelaine to let the people in, then.'' She gave you a smile, then walked away.
*
After having dinner with Enid and Wednesday, you returned to your hotel. On the walk there, your heart jumped in your chest when you saw a tall man with his hair tied into a bun waiting to cross the street. Your mind immediately made the connection, the piece of paper in your picked feeling suddenly heavier.
According to Wednesday, Xavier lived in New York. He bought a loft somewhere in Greenwich Village and displays his paintings in a gallery. She and Enid had attended his last exposition a few months back.
It made you happy to know his paintings were displayed in a gallery. You always knew he was talented and could make a living off his art. You wondered what his paintings looked like. He must have improved since high school. Was he still using his nightmares as inspiration? Had he moved on to a more abstract style? Did he still have that painting of you?
Your questions remained unanswered, having reached your hotel.
Eleanor must have come into your room after the signing because the black dahlias were placed on the table along with the few small gifts you had received from your readers. You removed your coat and walked up to the flowers, a feeling of nostalgia filling your heart.
The first time Xavier got you black dahlias was on Valentine's day. While everyone got their significant other roses, he got you a black dahlia. The special attention had touched you. You had only mentioned once that they were your favorite. It was at his shed and he was painting. You thought he wasn't listening to you, but he was. He always listened.
You gave one last lingering glance to the black dahlias on the table, then called your mother through your crystal ball. A phone would have been more practical, but you weren't a big fan of technology.
Shortly after summoning her, Morticia appeared through the crystal ball. ''You look tormented, my little stormcloud.''
You couldn't hide anything from her.
Before you told her anything, she noticed the flowers behind you and immediately understood the provenance of your torments. Fortunately for you, heart matters were Morticia's favorite. She had a preference for those involving cursing a lover who did you wrong, but she was still very pleased to be of help.
''What's stopping you from reaching out to him?''
Flashes of Xavier's teary eyes haunted your thoughts as guilt and regret filled your guts. ''I broke his heart, Mother. I cannot show up at his apartment.''
''If he is the love of your life, why not give it a shot? Love makes us forgive the heaviest mistakes, my darling.'' Morticia paused, thinking about her own past mistakes. ''Besides, he sent you flowers, didn't he?''
*
The cab ride to Greenwich village felt interminable. You almost told the chauffeur to turn around fifteen times, but when would you be in New York again? This was your chance.
The car stopped in front of Xavier's building. It was tall and most lights were out. Maybe he was asleep? Xavier has always been a night owl, the chances he was asleep at this hour were very slim.
You paid the driver and took the stairs, your heart hammering behind your chest as you got closer to Xavier's door. You paused before knocking, deciding to use the secret knock you and Xavier used at Nevermore when sneaking in each other's dorms. It's been a few years, but you hoped he remembered.
The door opened and you momentarily forgot how to breathe. His green eyes looked down at you and an army of spiders swarmed your stomach, making you feel like a teenage girl.
Xavier stepped back to let you inside, then closed the door, plunging you in the silence of the apartment.
''You don't seem surprised to see me.''
He casted his eyes down and shook his head gently. ''I had a dream about you last night,'' Xavier explained, shifting his gaze back to you. ''You were here, standing by the large window of my apartment, looking absolutely stunning by the moonglow.''
You crossed the large room, your shoes clicking on the wood floors, and stood by the window adorning the street, trying to recreate Xavier's dream picture-perfectly. ''Like this?''
A soft smile spread on your old flame's face.
''I didn't know if it was my mind playing and trying to hurt me or if it was premonitory,'' he said as he walked over to you, his pace slow and calculated.
The moonglow hit his face, making his beautiful eyes glisten.
You wanted to kiss him.
Shaking that thought from your head, you cleared your throat. ''Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.''
''I saw a poster with your face at the bookstore last week saying you would be having a signing. I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you would have wanted to see me...'' He got closer to the window, watching the city under.
''I always want to see you, Xavier.''
He scoffed, an ache in his heart. ''That's not what you said a few years ago.'' The wound was old, but it had never healed completely.
Guilt and regret swarmed your guts. You wanted to apologize, but no 'sorry' would be enough to amount how much you regretted those words. You had lied to him, right to his face, that night. You had watched his green eyes fill with tears as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
''Would you have thought of me today had I not sent you flowers?''
''Yes,'' you replied with no hesitation. ''Just because I'm a published writer doesn't mean I've forgotten about my past — our past.''
Shaking off the flashes of the past, Xavier blinked back his tears and tightened his jaw to camouflage his emotions. ''Why are you here, Y/N?''
The question was simple, yet you didn't know what to answer. You couldn't exactly blurt out 'because I still love you'. Although it was the truth, you knew this would not work with Xavier. You broke his heart and if you wanted him to let you have it again, you'll have to mend the pieces.
''I want to fix the past.'’
It was naive and silly to say, but you couldn't find anything better.
You continued. ‘’When we’re young, we think we know everything — we don’t. Decisions we think are right at the time sometimes are not and we only realize so when we grow up. I made a tremendous mistake when ending things with you, Xavier. I’m genuinely so sorry for all the hurt I inflicted upon you that night and all the ones that followed.’’
Xavier glanced at you for half a second, then looked away again.
‘’I wish I could say I wish I never pushed you away, but I can’t. If I hadn’t, I would never have realized how important you are to me. How I miss the deep connection we shared, the way we understood each other without words and having someone to share my greatest achievements with. I miss our late nights together, me writing or reading and you painting. I miss Sunday mornings at your dorm and seeing your sleepyhead beside me—’’
‘’Just because you miss these moments doesn’t mean anything. We all miss things from the past, it’s called nostalgia.’’
‘’I know what nostalgia is, and this ain’t it!’’
Frustration was beginning to build inside you and you were starting to think you were fighting for a love that was too far gone. A flame that had been killed and would never ignite again.
Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away.
‘’Back then, I believed my career was the most important thing. I thought if I made it and became a writer, I would feel fulfilled, but all this time I’ve been away from you made me realize that love is important too. What’s the point of living my dream if the person I want to share it with is not there by my side?’’
When you got the email from a publishing house saying they loved your novel and wanted to publish it, Xavier was the first person you wanted to call and tell your big news to. Your finger had hovered over his name on your phone for several minutes.
Instead, you had called your mother.
‘’When you're young, we make mistakes we thought were right at the time. When you grow up, you realize and come back to what you need. We’ve accepted that our lives grew apart, but what if I don't want our lives to grow apart? What if I want them to meet in the middle?’’
‘’Do you know how different our lives are, Y/N? I live in New York and you…I don’t know where you’re currently living. How are they supposed to meet in the middle?’’
‘’We make them meet in the middle,’’ you answered simply.
‘’We’ve tried that before.’’ Xavier scoffed, shifting his body toward the window. He could see your reflection in the glass, but tried to ignore it and focus on the street below. ‘’It didn’t work.’’
‘’We didn’t try hard enough.’’
The room was filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty as your words were left pending. Xavier's skepticism was evident, his doubts stemming from the geographical distance that seemed to separate your lives and the flashes of the past. A part of him wanted to jump in and take a chance, but another reminded him of the tough heartbreak he went through when you broke up.
‘’I’m ready to give my all into this relationship, if you’re willing to give us another chance. New Jersey is not that far from New York. I…I could move here! I have a computer now, we could video-call. Or you could come spend a few days at the Addams manor?’’
Xavier turned his gaze from the window to meet your eyes. Like your sister, you had always been reluctant to submit to technology. He was surprised that you owned a computer. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’
You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’What?’’
Xavier couldn't help but chuckle at your response. ‘’Video-calling,’’ he mocked. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’
Right. Facetime. Enid had told you many times.
You rolled your eyes. ‘’Excuse me for not being a slave to technology for as long as you,’’ you retorted, turning the teasing around.
Accepting defeat, Xavier then shifted back to seriousness. ‘’You really think we can do this?’’ he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty.
You took a few strides toward him, raising your eyes to meet his. ‘’If we put our hearts in it.’’ You took his hand in yours, holding it with both hands.
A moment of silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air. You were trying to be optimistic, but the longer the silence was getting, the less optimistic you were. He was going to push you away...
His green eyes shifted from your hands, distracting himself with the dainty rings on your fingers. You still had the one he gave you for your fifteenth birthday. You were just friends back then, so it didn’t have anything romantic tied to it.
‘’Okay.’’ He covered your hands with his other one, making you look up at him.
‘’Okay?’’ you repeated, making sure you had heard correctly.
Xavier nodded. ‘’Just…don’t break my heart again. Please.’’
You couldn't make that promise. ''I'll try,'' you said instead. ‘’And if you break mine?’’
‘’We’ll say we’re even.’’
—
Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n @poppet05 @ell0ra-br3kk3r
@rhaenyraswife @teaganthemorningstar @aphex2winn @moompie @ifevilwhyhot @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @theyslayallday @wrldofsage @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx @mxxny-lupin @idli-dosa @silenzju @ar40s @sweeterheartxamerica @renaissancewhxre @jordierama @lilppsblog @harrystylesfp @katsuki420 @ravenssh1t @izzy-laufeyson @iluvwomenblog @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @lilaconner @katsukis1wife @momoewn @amithesimpoffandoms @chaotic-fangirl-blog @hawkegfs @lyxrix @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure
@lucassinclairsgf @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation @aabananaa @starrrslove @marissapearle @sshesang @scarxvodka @xoxo-zainab @illf4iry @yourfavdummy @leoluvsur-pappy @kcskye123 @wenvierismycomfort @pedrosprincess @luvvtxinityy @targaryenmoony @icarly23 @HB8301 @red1culous @kattybug @sI33pyh0110w04
#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe imagine#xavier thorpe x you#wednesday imagine#wednesday#wednesday netflix#xavier thorpe x addams!reader
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A Start- N.L x fem! reader
all right! This one was requested by @naushtheaspiringauthor! Naush, if you're reading this I am so sorry that this request took so long to write! I've been struggling with motivation as far as writing requests is concerned lately and today I had a bit of coffee to help me get started! I hope you like it and if you don't, feel free to reach out and I'll make the necessary changes.
The type of Grisha that was wanted for this fic was never specified so I went ahead and had her be a tidemaker, which I hope is all right!
Fic type-this is a bit of both angst and fluff
warnings- a lot of mentions of the war, a mention of throwing someone overboard, and this is not my best work as far as editing is concerned--I kind of rushed it a bit because I am running on motivative fumes right now and didn't want to lose motivation part of the way through the editing process.
You were standing at the bow of the Volkvolny, Alina Starkov not three feet to your left. She had her gaze to the sea just as you did, unblinking and unphased but relentless in her hatred for the Darkling, just as everyone else silently was on the boat.
You were one of the Tidemakers on Sturmhonds crew, having been brought on by Tamar and only on your second day aboard the Volkvolny. You hadn't officially met Sturmhond yet but you didn't doubt that you would in due time, if the hostage situation that the Darkling had brought onto the boat was to be of any indication.
Your gaze was on the sea as the Darkling approached and hauled Alina away, lost in your own thoughts of life when you got to land again--comfortable bed, decent food, everything you needed to be content in that moment.
You headed away from the bow of the ship, thanking Tamar as she passed you one of the rum rations she'd just won in a game of cards, trying not to listen in on the conversation between Alina, Sturmhond, and the Darkling that was happening barely three feet away from you. You nearly let your curiosity get the best of you but with a sip of your rum you found yourself tired and ready to do anything but eavesdrop.
You let Tamar drag you off to a game of rummy, laughing a bit as she led you away and your rum sloshed around a bit in the mug, ready to get drunker than words could describe and barely remember it all through the haze generated by your headache the following morning.
-
The weeks passed, and you found yourself assigned to Mals care. You didn't fight it because, while you were on Sturmhonds crew, you were stuck taking orders from the Darkling while Mal hunted for the Sea Whip and Alinas second amplifier. With the second amplifier, Alina would get stronger, and eventually she'd be able to kill him.
You planned to watch the Darkling meet the end he deserved, for all that he'd done to your country and for all that he'd done to the people you held closest, and if getting a step closer to witnessing his death meant looking after one of the people he took prisoner, so be it.
Mal noticed that you, for someone who he thought must've been on the Darklings staff, were much kinder than those he'd dealt with in the previous few days, and as you purposefully lead him past Alina so that their hands might graze for a moment, a fleeting look might have been exchanged, all you could do was shrug.
"He trusts me because I'm willing to wear a bit of black and because the bastard thinks of Sturmhonds crew as his bloody own," you said. "Enjoy your fresh air while it lasts, lover boy. I'll try to persuade Alinas guards into letting the two of you have a chat after dinner."
"Why are you being so kind to us?" Mal asked, ignoring the whip of the wind as it drove past the two of you. "You seem quite stoic."
"You're using stoic in the place of rude and I don't appreciate that--I am stoic but rude is not something that I am or ever will be," you said. "I am being kind to you because you've gone without it for too long. You go without kindness for more than a few weeks and you'll turn out exactly as I have--reluctant to let people in, keeping everyone at arms length. Nothing will happen to you if you go down that route, and if anything does happen to you, it will be as rare as a dandelion in winter."
"And I think it's because of Sturmhond," Mal said. "You've clearly started to fancy the bloke and maybe you think that getting in our good favor will get you in his?"
"I am a twenty-one year old woman," you said. "I do not need to ferry the favor of a couple of seventeen year olds, regardless of the fact that one of them is a saint, to gain the favor of my own bloody boss, Mr. Oretsev, but thank you for that. I totally appreciate your assumptions."
"It's not an assumption," Mal said. "It's an observation. I noticed the way that you watched him when he was with Alina the other day--you don't think you're the type he'll fall for, do you? That's why, even despite the fact that every time he grins at you flirtatiously you grin back like a sheep caught between the crossfire of two gun wielding idiots, you haven't made a move? You haven't offered him the rum ration you win from a game of rummy?"
"Another word of Sturmhond and I will throw the both of us overboard, Mr. Oretsev. Am I understood?"
"You are indeed," Mal said. "I would even say that I understand your words as well as I understand your lovesickness whenever you look at him--Alinas taken to calling him the clever fox because of his hair. You're falling for a ginger. You have a good time with that."
You scoffed, having no intention to make good on your threats to him.
It was true that you'd fallen for the handsome privateer and it was also true that, in direct relation to his treatment of Alina, you never thought he would fall for one of your sort. A privateer and a Grisha wouldn't work and you had no idea why, in the weeks since you were first brought onto the team by Tamar, you'd thought it probably could've.
They were your delusions, though, and because they were your delusions you would learn to live with them just as everyone else learned to live with their own.
--
Time passed. The civil war was ended in a burst of sun and star and the death of a saint. Nikolai returned to his palaces and found that they felt too empty for his liking.
He couldn't place why, nor what could've been done to fix it, until one day Tamar came into the guards break room smiling, a letter in hand.
"Got a pen pal, do you?" Nikolai asked. At that, Tamar scrunched her nose in his direction and gestured to the plate of biscuits on the center of the table at which they sat. Genya pushed back a curtain to let a bit of light into the room, and begrudgingly, Nikolai grabbed a biscuit.
"Tame your demons today," Tamar said. "We have a trip to make to Ketterdam and I have secured us a place to stay that's not the embassy but will indeed provide more than enough protection in it's place while renovations continue after the oil leak. Nikolai, you remember Y/N, don't you?"
The girl he'd fallen for during the civil war? How could he ever have forgotten.
He'd loved you in silence, in glances to you while you stood and chatted with Zoya and Genya, while you laughed with Tamar and stole pieces of bacon from Tolya in exchange for your rum rations while travelling. The way he'd felt about you had snuck up on him in the days of the civil war, and despite all of his trying, it hadn't gone away since.
"How can he forget her?" Zoya asked. "The amount of loving looks he thinks nobody saw him give her during the war is astounding. Why bring her up?"
"Well, as mentioned, there was an oil leak at the Ravkan Embassy. We needed a place to stay in Ketterdam while we're there on business so I figured I'd reach out to a rumored member of the Council of Tides and see what she could do."
"And what all has she done?" Nikolai asked.
"She lives in a mansion in the merchants district. Six bedrooms and a nice kitchen, good food for the duration of our stay. I asked if she wouldn't mind our company and she said to come whenever."
Zoya smirked and Genya clasped her hands together, a grin adorning her face almost instantly. Nikolais gaze drifted to David, who was watching his wife with a smile of his own.
"I've missed her," Genya said. "I know we'll be there on business but it'll be nice to see an old friend."
Zoya glanced at Nikolai. "Or perhaps reignite an old flame," she said as Tamar wiggled her eyebrows, a giggle befalling her lips as she did.
"A flame that was never ignited in the first place?" Nikolai asked. "Write back to Y/N thanking her for her ability to accommodate us. I will see to it that she is fairly compensated for allowing us to lodge with her if she finds taking time off of work a necessity."
Tamar nodded. "I already wrote a note and sent it along," she said. "Eat breakfast, Nikolai. Your stuff is packed and waiting on the ship. We leave today."
"Ring for tea, will you?" David asked. Nikolai laughed a bit but did Davids bidding, trying to mentally get himself ready to visit the woman he loved but had not seen in too much time to count.
--
Two weeks came to pass, and Nikolai had found himself approaching your garden, mug of tea in hand, as he couldn't sleep.
The demon took him over when he slept and most nights, while the demon had indeed taken a step back that trip, he didn't like the idea of closing his eyes and letting himself drift off. When Nikolais conscious faded, the demons conscious set in, and he didn't want to know what kind of damage the demon could do to you or the kind of damage you could do to it in the name of self defense.
He flinched when he saw you--you'd hardly interacted in the two days since he, the triumvirate, Tamar and Tolya had come. He was hoping you wouldn't notice him because who, exactly, wants to have their first conversation in several years at three in the morning?
"I heard you making your tea," you said. "Come on out. I've been meaning to talk to you since you first showed up, but I couldn't really find the words to do it."
Nikolai stepped out into the garden, came to sit next to you on a bench made of fabrikator altered obsidian--Nikolai had heard you and Tamar discussing it, and you'd said it was infused with Grisha steel to make sure it lasted as long as possible.
"You work for the Council of Tides, yeah?"
"We're supposed to remain anonymous," you said. "I can't tell you that."
"You worked from eight this morning to midnight. That's sixteen hours."
"And in thanks for covering my coworkers shift, they're covering mine tomorrow. I will be stuck in this house all day long," you said. "I do work for the Council of Tides, for the record, but if you say as much to anyone, I will risk the treason charge and have you hanged. It was an opportunity and I took it because it was that or worry about everything in Ravka. I chose the one less likely to kill me."
"They clearly pay you well enough," he said. "Seven figures, I'd imagine."
"The money I make in a year is enough to have Ravka debt free and the treasury restored within four of them," you said. "It's ridiculous, but I either make good money and live in this mansion and pinch my pennies so that I can make sure I have a good foot to stand on when I sell this place and go somewhere new, or I don't make good money and end up living in the crime districts. I had enough of fighting, of open wounds and of shouting in the streets during the war."
Nikolai nodded. "I don't blame you," he said. "However, if making a donation to Ravka is ever in your cards..."
You laughed. "You are so lucky I find your face kissable rather than punchable. Had I found it punchable I would've done it just then."
Nikolai laughed in turn. "You've been missed around the palaces," he said. "I mean--your absence has been disdained by lots of us."
"Who?" You asked. "I write with the lot of them rather frequently--went to see Alina and Mal just last week with a couple of loaves of bread made by Kerch born bakers! Who's disdained my absence, Mr. Lantsov? Everyone seems to be getting on just fine without me."
"Your absence has been disdain by one person," he said. "Me. I couldn't figure it out for a while but then it clicked and now I just--fuck, I feel stupid."
You laughed. "You could've just said you missed me," you said. "I was barely a presence at the palaces beforehand, but I can indeed understand why you would miss seeing me browsing the books in the library you never went into."
"I was busy!" Nikolai shouted, laughing a bit and startling himself with the volume of his words. "I was busy, Y/N, trying to win a war, and when I wasn't I was indeed watching you look at the books. You always got so focused in the libraries--I've spent my time in your absence reminiscing on it."
You laughed. Nikolai set his cup of tea on the ground.
"I loved you during that time," you said. "I really loved you, Nikolai. Didn't think you'd feel the same."
"I did," Nikolai said. "--I still do, Y/N. I haven't stopped for all of my trying."
You blinked. You'd been trying to move on from the war, all that you felt during it and everything that happened. You'd told yourself you'd only hold onto friendships, onto the good memories that came of the war because those good memories were amazing and they were few and far between, so holding onto them could only make sense rather than letting them go.
You supposed that Nikolai was one of those memories. He was a good memory in spite of all of the yearning, a good memory despite the fact that you'd spent so much of your time drowning in the idea that he could never love you like you loved him.
"Do you love me still?" Nikolai asked. "You said that you loved me then. Do you love me now?"
It had been something you were trying to forget. You didn't want to forget it anymore.
"I do," you said. "I don't think I ever stopped, despite how much I wanted to leave everything behind me."
Nikolai grinned. "May I kiss you?"
And you nodded, and then his lips were on yours and it almost felt as though a piece of your life that had been missing since the end of the war had slid back into it's place.
You loved Nikolai, and Nikolai loved you, and while it wasn't much, it was certainly a start.
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Ah, but could Laenyra and Daemyra have existed together? I don't think it was Alicent x Rhaenyra that caused the downgrade of Laena's position within the story, I think it was the framing of Daemon x Rhaenyra. What do you think?
I'm screaming because you don't how giddy I am to answer this anon. I've literally been trying to frame a way to state this exact question you asked, but was struggling so thank you! Okay so, in my opinion, Laenyra and Daemyra definitely could have worked side by side and even together in the show. In the books, I believe, it's alluded that they may have been a throuple and many fans already ship them all together (though some do just use this ship as a shoehorn to rush Daemyra without giving Laena her time to shine as well, which is so stupid but this doesn't go for everyone). There are many ways that this could have been a possibility in the show, had the writers and creators cared about Laena and their other black characters. Rhaenicent could have been over, heck even with some old flames between them here and there, but ultimately Laena and Rhaenyra would be together. And there were ways in the show that this could have been possible, but this brings me to your second point.
Rhaenicent is definitely not the reason for, or at least the sole reason (I'll be generous there) for Laenyra not happening, or for Laena's character downgrade and I feel that by, personally, only blaming the second main queer ship present feels like a cop out, especially since Rhaenyra is able to have other relationships within the show (eg. Harwin and even, briefly, Criston). From episode one, the show frames Daemyra as something that is going to happen one way or another (with Rhaenicent still existing in some way so there goes the point of the former making it impossible for another ship to happen), and when they do get together it's this big thing. If there was ever a ship that the show creators run for the most, my first choice would be Daemyra (especially because they give them more time to shine). However, problems arise with the introduction of Laena, and by problems I mean the creators of the show. They frame Daemyra as the ultimate ship so much that it overshines and overshadows Laena in every aspect---from her as a character to her relationship with both Daemon and Rhaenyra to even her children. Rhaenyra and Alicent have been for a decent amount of time, so at the point of the Driftmark episode and Laena's funeral, it makes no sense to blame Rhaenicent for Laena's lack of character when that should fall on Daemyra (at least in show canon). We see her framed as the second choice to Rhaenyra in Daemon's love life, we hardly see him tell her or show her that he actually loves her, we hardly see him spending time with the kids that they have together. Same with Rhaenyra, as we hardly see them talk to one another again, or even about one another except in passing (with Laena it's mainly about mentioning how Rhaenyra had given birth to another son and for Rhaenyra it was just asking Daemon if he loved her [Laena]). And this is so different from the books where, I believe, Rhaenyra flew over to be with Laena during the birth of her children something of which is a big thing for the crowned heir to do. The creators of HOTD failed at Laenyra and even Laena's relationship with Daemon when they framed Daemyra as being the ship that was destined to be and failed to give Laena character development that she deserved.
#laena velaryon#rhaenrya targaryen#daemon targaryen#rhaenicent#laenyra#daemon x laena#daemyra#anti daemyra#(or at least show wise)#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fandom#anonymous#ask#anon
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after several hours of processing, a rewatch and some other peoples tumblr posts analyzing the whole situation I actually don't think that izzys death was in it's concept entirely bad (the execution was terrible but I can see where they were coming from) so first of all: the entire ending was rushed, the wedding, stede randomly giving up piracy to open an inn even though they didn't have a conversation about this at all? and yes, izzys death but honestly I blame that on hbo not david jenkins (plus I also refuse to believe that he just didn't care about the character and didn't think about what effect it would have, so far he's done nothing but care about his characters, the fans and izzy in particular he said this season he was super important and he really liked the character)
The thing is that he explained his decision making as "the mentor dying while the student lives on and has to deal with the death of a father figure" now the thing is that I feel like between the 5th and the 6th episode and between izzys death and the ending there's just a huge chunk of plot missing that probably got cut and I personally believe that that part between 5 and 6 was supposed to show ed and izzys relationship more. David said Ed viewed him as a father figure yet we've never seen that before. Every interaction between them has framed them as an abusive (on both sides) romantic relationship (somebody said that their relationship showed the whole daddy issues thing pretty well because it shows ed viewing izzy as literally every kind of relationship a friend, a father, a partner just everything) now that does make sense but we only know that now after david said it not because the show made it visible (which is probably because they didn't have the time (i mean they cut an entire hour of runtime which is like a fifth))
And generally I think if we had seen that father figure-dynamic a little more they actually could've pulled that ending off because then it would've been more apparent what the show was trying to show.
My interpretation of the whole thing is that izzys death symbolises the end of piracy, rather than the death of a character that didn't "deserve living anymore" hear me out:
1) he was the most competent pirate in the entire show, always used as comparison and on several occasions it is showed that he doesn't only teach everyone how to be a pirate but is also the most respected pirate in the republic of pirates. Even when ed isn't recognised anymore, everybody knows who izzy hands is. He is basically THE pirate, the unicorn of piracy.
2) the unicorn plot: when they called him a unicorn for the first time I thought it was just the crew accepting him on the ship and in their family but the term of "the last unicorn" makes much more sense in this context. He's the concept of piracy, the mythical creature and the view everyone has of piracy, yet if he dies, piracy is over the last unicorn is gone and that's pretty much what's happening and what's fully gonna happen next season. him dying is the beginning of the end.
3) ed and stede quitting piracy and staying where izzy is burried, they basically burried piracy to then move on to the land. Also because izzy was a teacher for both of them and was therefore what tied them to real piracy. Especially for ed he symbolised piracy and his past life.
Also izzys thoughts about piracy and ed changed. In the first season he says stede is not a real pirate and neither is ed when he's not blackbeard, in season 2 he says piracy is about belonging somewhere and finding a family he also accepts ed for being ed and tells him to just be himself. with him the concept of piracy changes in itself.
The entire thing also could've been a great deal better if they had actually had the time to show everyone mourning him because they immediately after had a wedding and just moved on but once again that was probably just cut screen time.
I also don't think that they exactly dean winchestered him (i mean yea but also no) he died for the crew, his newfound family ("it's about finding a new family you'd die for when your actual one is already gone") And yea he was already getting his will to live back and taking that from him was awful but he was also fully ready to die for the cause, one he believed in. Because he believed in his family and that piracy and his spirit would live on even if they were all dead because "we are good". So his death wasn't entirely pointless.
messy and long text but over all I think that, even though it is sad and could've been handled better, it isn't a bad ending in it's concept and, even though I wish he would've survived i don't think that the death of this character ruins the entire show or is in any way offensive to queer and disabled people....It's just very poorly executed, which is on hbo for cutting the season short by a fith
#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd s2#ofmd spoilers#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd 2#ofmd season 2#izzy hands#ofmd analysis#izzy ofmd#long post
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