#because i REALLY needed to get this idea on paper
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No Prince Charming
(Batfam x Mom!Reader)
Anonymous asked:
Hello, I really like your work.
I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.
Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.
Sorry if it's too much.
And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator
❤
Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.
It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed.
Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders.
A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office.
“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’
Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one.
But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences.
“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her.
As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him.
Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.
Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too. Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact.
Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look.
She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is.
“I’m sorry Richard.”
“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up.
In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on.
Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother.
“Bruce please.”
“I am busy.”
“I know but Bruce, this is my–”
“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends.
When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.”
Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own.
She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne.
“Honey, are you happy?”
“Of course Mama.”
“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.”
Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3.
She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign.
For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door.
The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion.
“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.”
“Is that so?”
“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne.
“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.”
“And the kids?”
“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her.
It's good to see some of that coming back.
Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?”
“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull.
When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him.
“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.”
“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him.
Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in.
“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.”
“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood.
He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid.
Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her.
He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around.
Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too.
“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.”
Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place.
Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone.
He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”
“Holy shit.”
“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together.
Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes.
“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes.
“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room.
Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.”
Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings.
Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans.
Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight.
“Fucking hell.”
++++
Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool.
She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.
Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign.
It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids.
“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other.
“Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?”
“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something.
“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t.
He knows this. She knows this.
And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others.
It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine.
He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.
“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears.
“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine.
Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool.
“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle.
“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen.
Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second.
A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof.
So, of course they have had sex.
Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex.
Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon.
Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it.
It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return.
Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human.
Batman was never Prince Charming.
_________________________________________________________
Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.
@problematicreblogger
@kurai-hono-blog
@rosecentury
#yandere batfam#yandere dc#platonic yandere#batfam x reader#platonic batfam#batfam#platonic batman#bruce wayne#batman x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#alfred pennyworth
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say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader
synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.
(He fucks you on your desk)
word count: 2.6k
genre: canon compliant, smut
cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers
a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!
more gojo x reader here
Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.
“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”
“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”
“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”
“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”
“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”
You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.
It just so happens that you are very paranoid.
Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.
“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”
It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.
“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.
“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”
It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.
You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.
“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”
You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.
“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”
“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”
He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—
“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”
You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—
Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.
“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.
You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.
It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.
You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.
But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.
You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.
Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.
“Wait, wait, Gojo—”
“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.
“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”
“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”
He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.
“Yaga— Yaga could—”
“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”
He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.
You always laugh for him.
“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.
“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”
You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.
He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.
“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.
Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.
“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.
Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.
“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”
You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.
“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”
He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.
“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.
“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”
Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.
“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”
That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!
You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.
He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.
“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.
“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.
Ah, now that’s more like it.
“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.
“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”
Cute.
“Done. Now, about that round two…”
“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.
He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.
“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.
“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”
There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.
“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.
Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.
“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.
Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.
Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.
You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.
You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.
With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.
“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.
You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.
“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.
“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”
“No.”
“Yaga’s office is probably—”
“Absolutely not.”
“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.
“…Sure.”
He only savors his victory for a second.
“What about the couch?”
“Don’t push it.”
But he does, and you let him.
How could you not, when you finally have him back?
still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~
if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo imagine#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru smut#gojo fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x y/n#my writing
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It's not really in the spirit of the lighthearted romance genre, but every so often I want to write a story in the Shivadhverse that's about one of the kings passing on to the next king the weird covert stuff you occasionally just have to do as a working politician. Canonically, though I haven't put it in the books anywhere, Fons-Askaz was a neutral ground where Meetings That Never Happened could take place during the cold war, but I also step very carefully around that kind of thing because "A Jewish politician secretly mediating a peace treaty" can spill over into "Secretly Jews run the world" very, very quickly.
But I was listening to a podcast about Nicolae Ceaușescu this morning and it was talking about how basically, he ransomed Romania's Jewish population for spending cash -- if Romanian Jews wanted to immigrate out of the country there was a visa fee, which Ceaușescu then took and used on shopping sprees outside of Romania, a cash-low socialist country at the time. There is a reason the podcast about him is called Behind The Bastards.
Most of the Jews leaving Romania were heading to Israel, which paid the fees to get them out. Still, I can't shake the idea of Jason introducing Michaelis to the more dangerous side of the job by taking him, around age 15 or 16, to a nighttime meeting at the country's one tiny airstrip (purportedly abandoned since WWII) to greet a small aircraft with a handful of undocumented Jewish-Romanian immigrants on board, to welcome them to Askazer-Shivadlakia and give them their new papers as citizens.
"We can't pay the fees, but we can get a few out at a time, illegally. Generally small aircraft flown by volunteer pilots. You asked about the budget line-item for keeping up the old airstrip, and this is why."
"How often do you do this?"
"A few times a year. Sometimes they're only passing through, but they still need papers. Most stay -- there are farmers in dairy country that take them in, until they can get on their feet."
"But you don't have to meet the plane yourself. You could sign the papers and have someone else deliver them, if you wanted."
"I could, but I want to meet them. I want them to know I'm here, that the man holding the highest office in the country cares about their safety. Someday you may have to pass this on to whoever follows you as king. It's important that you pass on the values, not just the actions. So we go and look them in the eye as we give them their new life."
On the one hand, the good thing is that Gregory was born after Ceaușescu fell from power, so this particular tradition doesn't have to be passed on. But I would imagine Askazer-Shivadlakia might still have need of a small covert immigration program of some kind, and sooner or later Gregory's going to have to take Joan with him and teach her that the king goes and looks his new citizens in the eye as he gives them their identity papers.
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Looooooved ILY! Kudos! It was chair-gripping, tear drenching, rot your teeth fluffy and a bunch of other things in between! Brava! 🥰
If you're still accepting requests (I don't know if you have already been flooded by messages or not) I would like a story about being part of the Kid Pirates but reader is in a really sour mood because it's the anniversary of readers's parents death (you can make up a story if you'd like) and reader disobeys a direct order from him and, to top it off, reader talks back at him in front of the crew, earning the reader a severe punishment (up to you). Eventually Kid finds out why reader's mood is so sour and tries to talk it out except Kid can't be soft and that just makes things more awkward. Could be SFW, could be NSFW, I'm leaving all this up to you. And the ending as well because I only got that far. I hope you like the idea and get excited.
I love your work! ❤️🥰 Thank you for sharing your talent.
HI ANON!!! thank you so much for your request and your super kind words over IMLY, that means so much to me!!!! i know i keep saying this but yall make me smile every single day when i log onto tumblr and see your messages <3
I also really loved writing this request! i really love Kid, but i also wanna kick his ass on the playground if that makes sense, and i think that sentiment came through in my writing ;w; I hope you like it!!! and thank you again!!! (Also, i kept the reason for your parents' death ambiguous, because i know some people (myself included) read fics with their ocs in mind, so you're free to fill in the vagueness with your own personal ideas if you want!)
Feeling Overhaul
Eustass Kid x Fem Reader
The anniversary of your parents' death always leaves you feeling shallow, but your boyfriend's lack of social and situational awareness crops up to make your day even worse.
Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort, reader being understandably upset, descriptions of an argument with some veeeeery slight verbal abuse, once again hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort. communication is key loves
Your sour mood had been steadily building over the last few days, but your sorrow reached its peak on the last day of the week, according to the barely legible crew calendar that was based off of when the messenger coos arrived with the weekly paper. It was a day you despised thinking about, the memories associated with the day leaving your throat tight, an uncomfortable malaise in the pit of your stomach.
All things considered, you thought you were doing a decent job at keeping your emotions in check while performing your usual duties on the Victoria Punk. The bow of the deck needed a thorough scrubbing, a few spots in the walls of the crow’s nest needed repairs from a recent run in with a smaller, weaker pirate crew, and a few secondary sails needed their holes patched up. It was a perfect day to distract yourself from your woes. Drowning your discontent in your work had become quite a valuable skill.
Until you slipped on the soap that lathered the hard wood of the bow and fell flat on your ass. When trying to stand, your hands gave out under you and you hit the deck once more, one of your crew mates tossing you anxious glances as you struggled to regain your bearings. Climbing up to the crow’s nest, you were plagued with a sudden wash of grief over the day, so much so that you lost your grip and slipped down the Jacobs ladder, your foot catching on one of the wooden rungs beneath you. Wire was directly under you, climbing as well to assist with the crow’s nest repairs, and his method of helping you after your slip involved gripping your arm so hard it left a bruise. You bit back your tears at the pain of your crewmate’s hand around your limb and the humiliation of almost falling 12 feet onto the hard wooden hull, but you once again bit back your shame and finished your arduous climb up.
By the afternoon, word had gotten around the Victoria Punk that your work was lacking, that you were clearly struggling with something, that perhaps you weren’t feeling well. When it finally got around to Captain Eustass Kid, who doubled as your beloved partner, he was less than pleased.
The last thing he wanted to do was deal with your emotions, and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with his abrasive, apathetic attitude.
“Care to explain why the hell the entire crew has caught you slacking off today?” he demanded, thundering toward you in one of the upper corridors of the ship’s hull. You were still returning some of the tools you had used to patch up the ship’s sails when he accosted you in the hallway. It was almost dinner hour, and many of the crew were bustling through the same corridors finishing their afternoon tasks before meal time.
“What?” you snapped back, caught off guard by his threatening question.
“Don’t ‘What’ me. Why have you been tripping and falling everywhere? What kind of joke are you trying to play?” His face was angry, livid even, not granting you even one second to explain your plight.
Your eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not trying to bumble around the boat like an idiot. I’m just not feeling well and haven’t been able to focus.”
Kid scoffed. “Then get over it.”
Perhaps you were being irrational, but at the same time, you had officially had enough of the entire day. You dropped your supplies on the floor around your feet, heat radiating off of your body in waves. “What did you just say to me?”
Your captain bent down to be at your level, which was insulting to your current state. “Get. Over. It.”
Anger boiled in your lungs, lighting your heart on fire, blinding the corners of your vision with a fuzzy white light. You tried to turn your back to him and escape down the corridor, but yelped when Kid grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked. He really couldn’t control the sound of his voice, regardless of his current emotion, and the volume of his shouts filling the space made your body tense up in fear. Eyes watching the scene unfold around you widened.
Around the corner behind Kid’s back, Killer darted forward, alerted to the sounds emanating from the narrow passage. “Kid, chill out!”
“Are you going to care about me any more if I tell you?” you demanded back, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip. His flesh hand held firm, however, almost burning your skin. He shrugged Killer’s own hand off of his shoulder forcefully, completely ignoring his friend’s plea to calm himself somewhat.
Kid rolled his eyes. “It better be damn important if it’s got you almost falling off of the Jacobs ladder.”
You steeled yourself, sucking in an uneasy breath and facing your stubborn partner head on. “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death. I’ve never been able to feel alright when I think about them.”
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence that floated between the two of you, the air in the hallway thrumming with a suffocating tension. Kid’s grip finally relaxed on your wrist, allowing you to yank it away and rub your sore skin. His red-painted lips finally parted, and all he graced your ear drums with was, “That’s it?”
Your heart dropped. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”
“Parents die all the time. What makes today so different?” His narrow eyes were back to their scathing glare.
At this point, however, you had had enough. You were practically shaking with a barely contained rage of your own as you stepped closer to your captain and spat in his face, causing him to stagger backward, giving you enough space to let your emotions bubble outward. “I don’t have to tell you shit if you’re going to talk to me like that! In front of the entire crew?! Just because you’re my captain doesn’t mean you get the excuse to accost me in the hallway and berate me for slipping a few times.” You frantically dug through your brain for words to add to your outburst, perhaps asking how he had the sheer gall to have such an attitude toward you despite dropping his walls and being so kind toward you on an average day, but all you could muster in response was, “Fuck you, Kid.”
You stepped away from him, narrowly missing another one of his lunges to get you to stay. His voice was low and intimidating. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Then don’t tell me that my day of grieving is stupid! Fuck! You!” you spat back, finally turning on your heels and sprinting out of his reach, down the hallway and into the ladder well into the lower deck, desperate to get as far away from your captain as possible. You knew he was prone to struggling with empathy, and kindness had never been one of his strong suits, but to be talked to in such a way, have your feelings belittled after you had almost severely injured yourself as a consequence of your lacking mental health, hurt more than a stab to the liver.
Kid’s burning gaze followed you as you fled, harshly turning on his own heels to slink to the galley and drown his frustrations in whatever liquor the crew had acquired from the last island. He bumped Killer’s shoulder, forcing the blonde to the side. The crew watched as their captain rounded the corner out of sight.
---
You didn’t arrive for the dinner call, your usual seat left unfilled and the plate uneaten. A few crew mates who hadn’t witnessed the explosive scene from an hour ago asked around for your whereabouts, but the only one who bothered to stand up and search for you was Quincy who quickly ate her meal and abandoned the table.
Kid was pounding back alcohol like no one’s business, leading to many a concerned glance.
“Kid,” Killer muttered. He rested his masked head in his hand, desperate for context at what he had previously run in on. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” the red-head grumbled, throwing back another mug of golden beer, some of it dribbling down the side of his mouth.
The few straggling crew members who remained around the large dining table shared worried looks.
“It’s clearly not nothing,” Killer countered.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” snapped Kid. Even at the age of 23, he was still no better than a bratty little child when things didn’t go his way.
Killer dropped the subject with a sigh, the sound escaping the holes in his mask with a subdued hiss.
Quincy, on the other hand, carefully opened the door to the women’s bunk room where she found you, curled on your side on the mattress that used to belong to you when you first joined the Kid Pirates, your face buried in a pillow and your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Darling,” she cooed, silently tapping across the floor to sit on the side of the bed, her gentle hand ghosting over your arm. “What happened? Why didn’t you come to dinner?”
The sound of her voice unraveled you from your coil, your tear-stained face and puffy red eyes meeting her concerned stare. “Kid and I had a fight,” was all you said.
“About?”
You rolled onto your back, clutching the pillow that was thoroughly drenched in your salty tears to your abdomen. “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, and when Kid asked me what was wrong, he told me, ‘What makes today so different, parents die all the time.’ Like…?” your voice wavered, “Who says that? And to his girlfriend nonetheless!”
Quincy made a disappointed tsk sound with her tongue, sympathetically rubbing your arm through the sleeve of your shirt. “Honey, he’s stupid. But still, he was wrong to speak to you like that.”
You sniffled, wiping some snot from your face with the arm that wasn’t being caressed by your close friend. “I know… but it still hurts. I wish he could just… I don’t know… be nicer to me?”
For what it was worth, both of you knew that Kid wasn’t truly ‘stupid.’ He was strong, strategic, and resilient, but when it came to matters of the heart, his brain dwarfed to the size of a peanut. It was only a matter of getting the headstrong captain to realize how he had truly hurt you.
“Honey, sleep in here for a few nights to get a proper rest, away from him,” Quincy offered, standing up from her seat on your mattress to approach one of the wardrobes, pulling out a comfortable shirt and baggy pants to relax in. “Let this blow over for a little while, and then you can try to talk it out with him. We can help if you need it.”
You sat up yourself, gratefully taking the clothing from her arms, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Quin.”
The curly-haired woman left the bunkhouse to let you change, passing by Killer trudging through the hallway, a towel draped over his scarred arm. “Hey, have you talked to Kid?”
“He’s drunk off his ass right now,” Killer grumbled, dragging his free hand down his mask in a display of exasperation. “I couldn’t get him to tell me what happened, but he’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the evening.”
Quincy bit the inside of her cheek as she assessed the first mate’s message. “I’ll tell you.”
---
It had been about three days since the argument Kid had blasted you with in front of your crew mates, your humiliation and anger toward your captain burning a hole into your lungs. You couldn’t contain your tears for at least six hours after your initial outburst, the grief of losing your parents in the way you had all those years ago now partnered with the anguish of screaming at Kid… and spitting on his face. The act was so beneath you, and yet. Dive and Hip, who had seen the argument first-hand, had helped to assure you that you weren’t in the wrong for what you had said, reassuring your stance that Kid was far too intimidating when all he wanted was a simple answer for your strange behavior.
Heat had come to you with a covered plate containing the dinner you had missed, informing you that Kid still had a very poor system of managing his emotions. While you understood this first hand, being his partner for the better part of a year, you still didn’t believe that was a proper excuse to diminish your emotions in the way he had.
After those three days of your absence, strategically avoiding him at all hours of the day, Kid was fed up. He needed to talk. His bed was too empty without you.
Killer told him it would be a bad idea to call you to his quarters, but he did it anyway. And when your anxious knocking reverberated through the thick wooden door of his cabin, he was quick to call your name and grant you entry.
You stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you, keeping your head low. Kid stood from his mattress, clearing the floor in broad steps and trying his best to lay on the charm, wrapping his large arm around you and cooing his best, casual greeting, “Hey, babe, I’ve missed you.”
You shrugged yourself away from him, your eyes downcast. You looked… hollow. “Did you want something from me, captain?”
Kid felt a foreign pang deep in his chest. You hadn’t been referring to him as your boyfriend or partner. Right now, he was strictly ‘captain,’ and that notion left him feeling far too empty and vulnerable for his liking.
Fuck, he wasn’t good at this in any way.
Your gaze bore scorching holes into his own eyes, silently demanding the apology that you knew you deserved to hear from him. With a deep sigh, Kid turned around and stomped back to his mattress, dropping his head into his hands.
“I didn’t know your parents died,” he blurted.
You stayed quiet.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” His voice was a low grumble.
You suppressed a scoff. “How about, ‘Sorry for yelling at you in front of the crew?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry for saying that your feelings don’t matter.’ Something like that, maybe.” Your voice, in comparison, was eerily level, your time to be physically upset with the situation having expired two days ago. Now all you were left with was an uncomfortable feeling of unease, a hole in your heart where Kid usually sat now being emptied and replaced with a barren cavern that desperately wished to be occupied by the man you loved once more.
Because you really did love him. You knew his lifestyle, his behaviors, his tendencies toward cruelty. And yet, he remained kind toward you. He allowed you to open up to him and did the same in turn, and he nestled himself perfectly, albeit clumsily, into your life. You didn’t want to lose that.
Watching as Kid clearly struggled forming those two little words on his tongue was like watching someone perform self-surgery. His pride had impeded his sense of empathy for so long that the simple notion of apologizing was such an estranged concept for him.
How stunted.
But you held firm, remaining in front of his closed door as he kept his head in his hand, his thick fingers teasing through his slightly greasy red hair. After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked his head up. “I’m sorry.”
There it was.
He continued, sucking in a shaky breath. “I really didn’t know it was the anniversary of your family’s death. I wish I asked you about it sooner instead of… that.”
You stayed quiet.
“... Instead of yelling at you like that. And attacking you for something that was out of your control.” He kept his voice low, as if he was carefully picking out his words from a small bucket inside his thick skull.
After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, you released the tension in your shoulders with a sigh. “And I’m sorry for spitting on you. And for cursing you out.”
“No, you shouldn’t apologize,” Kid stated, finally picking up his head and gazing at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “I deserved it, really.” His fingers anxiously rubbed the rough fabric of his pants. “Killer sat me down and gave me a bit of a beat down. Physically and verbally. Because I know I’m not good at this. I’m not a good person. And I really fucked up with you.”
You remained firm with your feelings, but you finally approached his bed and sat next to him, leaving a comfortable gap between your bodies that your captain, your partner, didn’t try to close. He kept his distance from you, silently ensuring that you were allowed, and encouraged, to open up to him when you were the most comfortable.
“I just want to make sure that you actually mean it,” you whispered. “And that you’re not just saying that without believing it.”
“I mean it,” Kid confirmed, his voice unwavering. “I really do.”
You gazed at him apprehensively. “... Promise?”
Silently, Kid held out his pinky toward you.
You looked at his finger, confusion glossing your features. “What are you doing?”
“Have you never made a pinky promise before?” he asked.
Your mouth threatened to curl into a small smile. “Can’t say that I have.”
Kid released his hand only so he could take yours, folding your fingers down so only your own pinky stuck out from your fist. He repeated the motion with his own hand, curling his smallest digit around your own. “It’s a promise that I mean what I said. Killer and I used to do this all the time as kids.”
Your composure finally broke as you snorted, your own finger curling around his. “That’s sweet…”
“The point is that, if I break the promise, you get to break my finger,” he explained.
“Suddenly everything makes sense,” you uttered, your lips finally curling into a grin. “Don’t give me an excuse to break your finger.”
In response to your lighthearted plea, Kid raised his hand with yours still attached and pulled back down in a handshake gesture. “Never.”
Your finger stayed curled around his as you gazed at your hand. “I’m still kind of upset with you.”
Kid’s shoulders stiffened. “I get why.” After you stayed silent for a few extra moments, he finally asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Your eyes bore into his once more, his gaze remaining steady as well. “You can start by not jumping to conclusions… or being accusatory without any context.” You sighed. “I’m not telling you to change your entire personality, Kid, because I know who you are. And I fell in love with the normal, regular You. But I just ask for a little bit of kindness.”
Kid released your pinky in order to lace his entire hand with yours. “I’ll give you more than a little.”
“Or I can break your pinky?” you asked once more, another small smile breaking out on your face.
Your partner grinned. “I’ll throw myself overboard if you ask.”
You finally closed the gap between your bodies, tentatively laying your head on his shoulder. “No… I wouldn’t want to lose you like that.”
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#eustass kid x reader#eustass captain kid x reader#eustass captain kidd#eustass kid#one piece kid#request fics
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none of the ft dragon slayers have a clue what a birth certificate is. i was GOING to be make exception for wendy but she actually doesnt either- no one told her what it is so she just ignored it over time when people kept asking.
They technically know what it is, but really don’t understand the point of them, because none of them technically have a real one
First time Natsu heard about them he was like 17 and his first thought was smth like ‘you have to be certified to give birth😨??’. He was both horrified at the implications and extremely confused. After an explanation he was still weirded out, like why?? is he not proof enough of his existence??? dont get him started on social security number and death certificates
Gajeel understands it to a certain extent but he hates the idea of them, like why should his whole existence be tied down to a little piece of paper??? that literally anyone could take??
Wendy has given up trying to figure out what the hell they are, living with a dragon then in a little guild away from civilization most her life there was never a need for it and she was never asked until she moved to magnolia, she wrap her head around them and shes stopped trying
#fairy tail#natsu dragneel#gajeel redfox#wendy marvell#only them bc im still blanking#laxus wasnt included bc he was raised as a human by humans#sun strickens ft#fairy tail headcanons#ft dragon slayers#fairy tail slayers#sun stricken answers
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Maid of the Rich
Inspo: sluttsxphobia [I think they abandoned this idea, but I really like it, so I'm stealing it.]
Summary: You were hired as a maid, but the day Miles returns from school, he makes it his mission to make your life a living hell. But one day his idea of you changes, though you wish he'd just continued to hate you
Tw: Mean Miles [Obviously], Miles being creepy
Taglist: @fxchild, @milesfairchild2,
[Make a part 2??]
You groaned as you put the car into park. You did not imagine that this is where your life would be at peak 20; A maid for some snooby rich kids. You turned off the engine and slammed your car door, mumbling under your breath as you walked up to the main doors.
You're met by an older lady who practically gave you a death stare. It wasn't like you wanted to be there either, so you didn't know why she seemed angry. Besides, she was the one who hired you, so she had no right to be upset.
She let you in and showed you around the mansion while explaining to you what you had to do. It was all just small talk and a waste of breath. You already knew what you were supposed to do and you doubted her showing you around will help you remember where everything is. Let's be honest, the place was huge; It'd take you a while to adjust. A part of you was jealous that someone got to live here and enjoy the lavish life of riches- That was until she, the woman showing you around, reminded you to be patient with the kids, because their parents had just died and the eldest had just lost a close companion. Though, the way she said companion made you think she thought the relationship as something else- Something she didn't like.
In your eyes, it seemed she didn't like much of anything. Besides how hard could it be to watch some brats?
---
You slowly walked into the office, before looking around the room. You let out a breath of relief when seeing it was empty. You walked over to a desk and pulled at some cabinets. You were looking for papers on the man who died? You weren't sure what she was, but you needed to know what happened to him.
You groan when seeing the dozens of unmarked papers in the drawers. You hear a noise behind you causing you to freeze. Imagine your surprised when you turned around and their was a teenage boy standing behind you. You practically jumped out of your skin as your nails dug into the desk. The boy was practically hidden in the shadows, which only creeped you out more.
"Who are you?" You finally got out after a while of silence.
"I'm Miles. I live here. Who are you?"
When Mrs. Grose had said 'Kids' you expected young children- Like under the age of 10. But this kid- Teen, Miles, looked like an older teen, maybe a young adult. But, since he was in a school uniform, you assumed he had to be under 18.
"I'm the new maid."
"No shit," He eyes you up and down. "What's your name."
You wanted to give the boy a dirty look, but something in you said that was a bad idea. With his attitude, you could only imagine the two of you wouldn't be getting along. "L/n. My names L/n."
"L/n? That sounds like a last name."
"Good observation."
"What's your first name?"
You ignore him and turn back around towards the desk, fiddling with the papers. Miles glares at your back, annoyed. He takes a step towards you, but you don't pay him any mind. In fact, you turn back around him and pat his shoulder-
"I'll uhh, see ya... Miles." And then you push past him and leave the room.
Oh, yeah, now he was pissed.
---
You could feel his eyes on you. Every move you make, he's watching. It was like he could sense your anxiety about being watch and liked to watch you squirm. You could hear every breath he took and it was starting to get to you.
"You missed a spot."
"What?" You look back at him, confused.
"You. Missed. A. Spot." He points to a spot next to your hand that you had been scrubbing at for a few minutes. It was sticky and stuck to the counter.
You frown at his smirk and rolled your eyes, "Yeah, well, I also wasn't finished."
"I sure hope not, since you did a shitty job."
You felt your fist clench and you took a deep breath, before shaking your head. You grabbed a cleaning bottle before spraying the spot and finally getting it. You smirked and turned to the smartass boy, "There. His majesty now has a clean spot."
He huffs, rolling his eyes, but doesn't respond. You felt satisfied that you had gotten him to shut up. He turns to leave but you quickly call him back.
"Oh, Miles- Uh, just a tiny favor, trying aiming IN the toilet, yeah?"
He frowns deeply, giving you a stinky eye, before tilting his head, "I'll aim on your grave you fucking whore."
You sigh, clicking your tongue, "I'm not to worried. If you can't aim in a toilet, I doubt you'll hit the grave."
"Fuck you, bitch."
"Oh no, the little mean boy called me a bitch. I'm so sad."
"Laugh it up while you can. You won't be here much longer."
You looked at him confused. At first you thought he meant he would get you fired, but a part of you saw it more as a death threat. Though, it was an empty threat, because a part of Miles liked your banter with one another. It was... Nice. Really nice.
---
The garden was nice, much nicer than any place you've ever been. You looked around the many rose bushes that surrounded you. Miss Fairchild seemed to have an eye for pretty flowers. Maybe it was a way to hide the tragedy of the Fairchild family. You sighed, leaning back and pushing your hair out on the fluffy grass. It was so peaceful- Until it wasn't.
"What are you doing?"
You groan when hearing the voice and rubbing your eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," You mumble under your breath.
"Shouldn't you be cleaning? Or something."
"Or something... I'm on break."
"You get breaks?"
"Yeah, it's called Worker's Rights... I think- Well, it's a law."
He walks towards you, before towering over you. He leans his head over you, displeasing you. His face was blocking the sun and right in your line of vision.
"Do you even know what you're talking about."
"Well, I'm working a shitty job for shitty pay, so you tell me if I know anything."
"Shitty job?"
"Yeah, that's what I said. I'm glad you can hear."
"How much do you get paid?" He tilts his head, watching you sit up.
"Enough to come back, I guess. I mean, I haven't quit, so..."
"So, it's not shitty pay."
"I guess not. But no amount of money would make this job bearable."
He doesn't respond and you're thankful. You run a hand through your hair and yawn. You push yourself up and brush off your clothes.
"You should get back to work. Mrs. Grose wouldn't like to see you relaxing. She hates anything fun."
"Yeah, I've noticed..." You turn back towards him, giving him a suspicious look. "You're being weird. Why are you being weird?"
He rubs his chin, giving you a confused look. "Weird? What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb... You're being nice..."
"Is that illegal?" He asks with an attitude, making you roll your eyes.
"No, but I don't like it. I know you're up to something. I've got my eye on him." You hand gesture the 'I'm watching you' before walking away from him.
---
You kept your eye on the boy, but... Everything was fine. He wasn't ruining your life and wasn't making you feel miserable. In fact, he went out of his way to make your life easier. He'd wash his plate, take out the trash, etc. You wished he'd go back to normal- something you never thought you'd say.
---
Miles stood over your bed, watching you closely. He lightly hums to himself, as he sits on the edge of your bed. He feels it dip, before sighing to himself. You looked so peaceful- Like nothing could hurt you. It was nice to look at. He wanted that; Peace.
His hand felt your body through the blanket. He wished he could touch your bare skin, though this would have to suffice. It wouldn't satisfy him for longer, but for now you were safe.
---
You awoke in the middle of the night feeling strange. You looked around your dark room, but nothing... It's not like you could see though. You hear a bang, causing your eye to turn towards your window. It was just a tree branch. You sigh in relief, before closing your eyes. Doing this, you missed the sound of your door opening and slowly closing.
You didn't sleep for much longer, but this time you were awaken by something more pleasant. It was a nice tune playing throughout the house. You slowly sit up, heading towards the before opening it. You look around the dark halls, deciding to find where the noise was coming from.
You slowly walking down the hall, following the music. You finally stopped in front of a familiar door. The music was still soft, but louder than when you were in your room. You push your ear up against the door, listening. It was nice, beautiful even.
Though, you must have been leaning to hard, because the door pops open, causing you to fall to the floor. You quickly stand up, frozen as Miles turns towards you.
He had known you were out there. He had purposefully played the song that Quint had told him you liked. He planned this.
"Sorry- I uh... Heard you playing."
"Yeah... It's an echoie house."
"Yeah. Uh, you're really good..."
"I know."
You look around the room at the instruments. "Pretty late."
"I guess- Uh, is there something you want, Y/n?"
You quickly shake your head and hands, "No! No, I just heard the music and wanted to see what it was."
"Well, if you close the door and come in, I can play you something."
"Play me something?"
"Yeah. That's what I said. Glad you can hear."
#yandere x reader#yandere horror#yandere slasher#miles fairchild#yandere miles fairchild#yandere miles x reader#yandere miles fairchild x reader#miles x reader#miles fairchild x reader#the turning#yandere slasher x reader#yandere imagines#horror x reader
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Nobody asked me buuuut here's some of my hc of what the mum's/sisters would do in the Melting Pot universe:
Alexia gives me business owner vibes, not sure what the business would be though
Jeni gives me lawyer vibes
Lucy would be either a CEO oooor a police officer
Keira could be a teacher
Alessia would still be in college
Leah could be a DJ or a firefigther
Lia could be an engeener (not sure what could be)
Katie could be a firefighter or a police officer (while coaching karate to kids on her spare time)
Caitlin could be a vet
Viv could be a writer or a mechanic (idk not sure)
Beth would be a kindergarden teacher
Mapi would def be a tatoo artist
Ingrid would be a CEO too....idk she gives me powerful business woman vibes or a Model
Caro could be a firefighter while Marta could be a paramedic
Ona could be a vet too or a pilot (idk)
Aitana gives me profesional chef vibes
Frido would be a model
the rest idk....
Okay so this is just going to be a big infodump of the ideas I have for the dynamics between all the families so this might be kind of long. I'll probably put them into a masterlist at some point but probably after I move out
So, Alexia and Jenni had the twins (Bambi and Pequeñita) together before having a fairly amicable divorce. Business owner Alexia but the businesses she owns is a chain of fairly fancy restaurants and Jenni definitely gives lawyer vibes. So, they broke up and Alexia got with Olga to have Jaume and Jenni had Osita.
They're fairly chill with each other and their custody schedule is flexible and dictated by the twins so Pequeñita usually stays with Alexia while Bambi tends to go between them (now more heavily with Jenni now that Jaume's been born).
Lucy and Keira's relationship is also on the rocks. They were planning on adopting just as Keira got pregnant but decided to keep both plans going and then when they were settled, they adopted again to get Pup. They had a good relationship but it's kind of fizzling out and they're only really staying in the same house for the kids while pursuing different partners outside (thinking about if Lucy's a police officer then Ona might be a new recruit and Keira teaching at a local secondary school and Laura is the new teacher there).
Alessia is the frazzled uni student that's part time employed at one of Alexia's restaurants as a waitress so she's balancing it all while also caring for her little sister, Tesoro. They're always riding the line between on time and late.
Leah being a firefighter so she's on quite long shifts sometimes so taking care of Bug and Bean sometimes falls to Jordan (her amicable ex and Bug's other mum) who's all too happy to look after them both.
Thinking also about how Lia might be working in or around the fire station too (maybe admin???) who adores her little Guppy, who comes into the station every weekend to make sure it's all clean and tidy.
Actually, now that I think about it. Katie and Caitlin both being firefighters as well but working on opposite shifts so someone is always around to look after Gremlin and Kiddo. Rue's Katie's ex and Kiddo's other mum who just kind of does temp work where she's needed. The breakup is still a little toxic because Katie almost immediately got with Caitlin and had Gremlin. Kiddo is still adjusting.
Viv has her own column in the newspaper that she writes around caring for Munchkin and making paper sharks with Liefje while Beth probably has a job where she gets to be quite social with other people.
Daan is Beth's ex and they kind of had a kid together but still kind of didn't because Ellie's the one signed on as Pipsqueak's other mum but everyone is still friends and Pipsqueak gets sent off to Beth and Viv's house for babysitting during Daan and Ellie date nights.
Ingrid is definitely giving powerful ceo vibes. She's loaded with cash and has a big house up a hill somewhere so all her kids + Nena can have their own rooms and spaces. Mapi's tattoo artist income is practically petty change to Ingrid but she likes that Mapi's still doing something she's passionate about. Nena moved in with Ingrid somewhere between Sunshine being adopted and Teeny being born and settles right in with the rest of the pack.
Caro and Marta probably had a really sweet meet cute in the park when Conejita came over to the patch of flowers Caro was sitting next to and started picking them. Caro saw Marta and knew she was a goner.
Aitana working as a chef in Alexia's restaurant and actually getting recommended the school for Estrella by Alexia, who in turn, got the recommendation from Mapi who got it from Ingrid, who only really moved to the area because she heard the school was really good.
Frido as a model or as Ingrid's cfo who is looking after her baby sister and being all powerful and hot at the exact same time. She makes it seem so effortless.
Mary also being a semi-frazzled uni student who's probably working on a masters or PhD and she does her studying while little Rugrat is teaching herself how to read over in the corner or pointing out Mary's spelling mistakes before she submits a paper.
Steph being a single mum who probably works for the same paper that Viv does and recommends the area for Mini and Clara to bring Harper and Bubs too. Harper gets put into a different school than Bubs but that's alright because Bubs is in the same class as Angel and Mini swears she's never seen Bubs so bright and happy before.
Jessie also being at the local uni trying to wrap up her engineering degree. She's dealing with the pressure a lot better than Mary and Alessia are and she's got such a sweet Duckie to take to the park to decompress after a hard exam.
Emma recently moved Squish to the area to finally live with Frida permanently. I'm not sure what they would work out but they probably have a nice little house that backs into a forest so they can have long walks with Jordan and forage for mushrooms and berries.
Kristie probably works as a beautician or something similar while Sam works outside (I'm not quite sure as what) so it's no surprise that their kid Chook rolls in dirt and has fantastic eyebrows.
Magda and Pernille being lecturers at the university with really fancy credentials. Magda's been working there for a bit while Pernille taught in Germany and a job opened up so Pernille took it quickly, moving her and Princesse over to be closer to Magda.
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archive locked for obvious reasons but hello there tsbesg enjoyers i have updated. sort of.
#im gonna just. upload the chapters i do have written#but this is a side piece set in the near future of the fic itself#because i REALLY needed to get this idea on paper
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The binding of Mabel has Begun.
#I've printed half of the signatures of the first book.#it will be fourteen in total which i think is the biggest book I've bound?#worries me a little because i may have to round it which i don't really want to do.#don't love the paper I'm using but I need to use it up and I'd rather do it on something I'm not selling#i still have no idea what I'm doing for the cover. haven't even decided on how I'm going to bind it.#i was really hoping the inspiration would have struck me at this point but no luck#i want the two volumes to match but i don't want them to be the same#i think I'm going to hold off on the second book in case we do ever get another season#two volumes the same size will look nicer. and be easier.#been out of the book binding groove for a while so it's nice to ease back into it#even if formatting was HELL i don't know how you fic binders do it#bookbinding#mabel podcast
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Working on some designs for one of my oldest OCs, “Cure” (Patreon)
I also managed to track down some of her initial concept sketches from 2018 - why 2018 considering I called her one of my oldest OCs?
Well, her design has always been rather elusive, even more so since she spent so much time in my head without being brought to paper - even these sketches make mention of it!
Pretty sure she got “Cure” in 2018 too - starting to take form!
#Doodles#Original#The quotes are very intentional lol#As stated under the cut I started designing her in 2018 but she's existed since around 2007-ish? Latest would be 2010#Part of her having such a range of uncertainty is that it took me many many years to consider putting her to paper!#She might've existed in 2007 but there's no record! She might've existed in 2010 but no record! I don't think I even wrote about her#She was a completely mentally-extant OC for many many many years#Partially because at the time I had just started drawing and knew I wouldn't be able to put down what was in my head to physicality#And then the longer she stayed in my head the more she became that kind of mental kaleidoscope ever-shifting impossible-to-draw design#But screw that! I have a few years of doodling under my belt now! Even if I can't get her quite right I can at least make an attempt!#It's especially funny because outwardly she is meant to be a pretty generic teddy bear lol - not Exactly but more like the vibe of one#Round and plush and innocent - innocuous#And really she's not like Nefarious or anything lol - she's not what she seems but she also is?? It's hard to explain lol#A lot of it does still come down to subtleties so it actually is still hard to capture but it'll only keep getting harder the longer I wait!#So at least pinning down Some things about her design that I'm happy with and can refer to helps the me down the line haha#The first one is actually pretty close! It's always a coin flip on whether the first one is a disaster or nails it haha#The heart ears and straight body are pretty good tho I gotta say#And honestly it was the little lace-ribbon bracelet that was the deciding factor for me to try drawing her again haha#I had an idea I thought was silly but to do it I needed a design to work with!#Getting there getting there - every little bit closer
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i'm so normal about all the things swimming around in my head right now, i'm chewing on the walls
#born to christen the new sketchbook with cool things#forced to write out backstory#I love DnD I love playing it I love my characters I love character building in a vacuum#BUT#as soon as I have a group and need to be ready in a week I die#inner critic at volume 100 every idea I ever had is bad actually and I keep getting lost in details#'divination wizard that studies divination to figure out how to evade a prophecy' sounds so fun on paper#especially with the added flavor of 'they're from a cult devoted to the god of divination and left them behind for this'#but like#to fill that out#aughhh#is the person that would be harmed in the prophecy a sibling or friend?#are they part of the cult or not?#who are the people in the cult?#what's the family situation actually?#so much to consider#I'm thinking maybe in the cult and really devoted so they don't want to leave and will resent my character for trying to save them#but still sibling or friend?#mh#honestly chances are this will have very minor involvement actually because the campaign is in one city and they hail from a different one#but still#I'm just rambling to the void cause it helps me think lmao#congrats to whoever actually reads my tags#I also haven't even decided if I play a gnome or dragonborn or maybe a tiefling afterall agh#tbf that has little bearing on the character but that's the ISSUE I have nothing to tie in
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Hi there! If you don't mind me asking, how many writing projects are you currently working on?
I've been interested to get an insight on how other people prefer to write. For me, I don't think I can handle multiple projects at a time. But you seem to have a lot of WIPs that are different. So I'm really curious!
Thanks in advance!
i am currently working on 3 wips right now: fem!mav AU, assorted extras for the edts series, & non-top gun related war novel that is my honors senior research thesis on military literature
i write sporadically when i get an idea. I very rarely have ideas which is why i almost never write fanfiction. 90% of what you guys have read of mine is not written in any conceivable order, and i mean literal sentence-to-sentence level construction that is sometimes written months apart because i couldn’t figure out how to end a sentence in march but did figure out how to end it in may. i am kind of running out of wips to show you guys on wednesdays because so many of my paragraphs are straight unfinished lol. this system really works for me because i can write whatever i want whenever I want, meaning if i have a eureka “i should add such-and-such symbol!!!” moment (see the pens in the slider one-shot, a very last-minute addition) then i can just go back & add it because everything, every scene and every paragraph and every word, is a work-in-progress till literally the minute i post it… i don’t count drafts except for huge marked changes because im always constantly editing & tweaking
#i refuse to write in apps that don’t have a mobile function#i draft everything on my laptop because i type much faster on a keyboard#but edit everything on my phone… while walking to class. on the subway. between moments at work. etc etc#looooooove google docs. yes it slows down once you hit 75k words but… ugh the mobile function is so good.#being able to constantly reread what ive written is such a huge boon in terms of writing#i can kind of understand how people can’t do more than one wip at a time? but for me if i don’t multitask i don’t get anything done.#i also have adhd so don’t like…. idk don’t worry about it#again my priority isn’t really to have fun it’s to get all my ideas down on paper somewhere so they stop taking up space in my head#top gun gave me lots of ideas. need to get them out of my head. not fun. how do i make it stop.#writing advice#not top gun
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Current Situation would actually probably be solved if I stopped looking to Projects for all my satisfaction in life
#i wrote out a list of the things i would need to research to write the *fics* that i want to work on#let alone my actual Official Grad School Projects#of which i have several other ideas in the works besides the ones which i'm actually doing for final papers#and then of course there are several original stories i want to write too but those are who knows how far out#current thing i've been spinning around in my head is writing something about lascars on east india company ships#(specificallly i have set my heart on writing a story about a mutiny on board one of them which ties in with Indian History happenings#in the general outside world and everything sort of being in a process of change (have not decided on an era yet hence Vague)#and also the main characters are a nayar boy and mappila muslim boy who he has a huge crush on and they get a love story)#not really sure how to make this story work at all because the amount of things i'd want to know for it#involve several decades of research probably to do it well#but hey that's never stopped me!#not to mention the fact that i started reading about 18th c. conceptions of sex and now want to work more on hornblower top surgery fic#with more fun and spicy early 1800s medical debates and such#and also i want to work on my stephen getting captured by the french but it's canto jo i la muntanya balla fic#which *also* involves lots and lots of research so ughhhh#i wonder how i got into this situation. i wonder why everything feels like So Much 🤔🤔🤔 could not be my fault at all#perce rambles
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After over 3 weeks of unsuccessfully checking several department stores that promised to have one, i Finally managed to find a body shop around here AND it had the banana conditioner i wanted so so badly. Life is good sometimes
#like i cannot tell you how Frustrating this was#i have no idea where they hide them but the 5 malls and department stores i checked before definitely hid them too well#i even went to lush instead which i never tried before and the shampoo and conditioner definitely don't smell as good#but they did their job well enough#but damn I'm so happy rn because I've had given up on ever finding one#(and yes. I'm drunk again because they only sold those makgeolli bottles in sets of two at that supermarket#so i had to drink the other one too obviously#I'm doing great )#i really need to find something to do with my life here though#i should develop a routine or something#start the day with yoga or pilates or something like that and then work on my papers#and then do xyz ...#rn i just waste my days#also the weather has been more bearable temperature wise lately#so i should start running soon#rn it's raining a lot though so i hope that'll stop soon#I'll check out some routes tomorrow though#i need to get more exercise#my room is too small to do anything strenuous so I have to get out of my comfort zone and work out/run outside#sorry I'm rambling#gotta shut up now. i have like 2 weeks left to write my 1st term paper so i need to find a topic tomorrow and message my lecturer#he'll judge me for messaging him so late but idc. I've never written anything in more than a week so this is fine#after that I'll write my other paper and then I'll be free until January#sorry got carried away#void screams
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I'm not dying until either I finish all my fics or there is an animatic adaptation with Spiderverse levels of animation about A True Story from Lucian of Samosata.
Look man this thing is like 20x more crazy than any sci-fi movie and I need it adapated. IT'D BE GREAT.
"But Maracuya why do you think we need one our society is healthily functioning without it—"
River of wine
Cheese islands
Women trees. Or is it tree women?
Men that procreate and can take out their eyes
PUMKING PIRATES
Sea milk
Civilization inside a whale
There is a sort of hell for writers that claim their stories are true (oh how funny the main character is)
The Banquet of Beans– an actual chapter title.
A Frick ton of other weird things AND ALL OF THIS IN OUTER SPACE—
The book ending with a To Be Continued and then never continuing it (he's just like me fr).
#NAH#ITS CRAZY#I LOVE IT#ITS SO CRAZYYY#earliest known work of science fiction— and has not been topped by others of the level of crack#whatever they were smoking i want it#a true story#lucian of samosata#the thing that gets me the most is in the introduction in the book by the translators(?) of the story:#'While others had declared themselves poets#historians. philosophers. Lucian comes forth as a man of letters. Had he lived to-day. he would have edited a news paper written#written leading articles and kept his name ever before in public in the magazines.#For he possessed the qualities. if he avoided the defects. of the journalist.'#— and thats gives me such an emotional feeling because it really shows that a person can be so simple and yet write something so beautiful#and just imagine the wild ideas others had at that time that we will never know or never get to know#because its all lost in time#AGHGAJSHKA#i should also be talking about the translators because AH the story of being forgotten AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE INTRODUCTION AHSHKA#comedy#ancient rome#roman plays
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seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.
very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.
they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.
mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.
sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.
these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.
i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.
what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.
they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???
THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!
it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just
ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.
kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.
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