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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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the things you do for love ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him.

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time.

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips.

he can’t be serious.

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly.

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week.

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it.

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him.

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could.

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package —

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt.

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit.

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards.

but no — he wanted you to wear it.

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?”

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too.

”— because you love me?”

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly.

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?”

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble —

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak —

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer.

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?”

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly.

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows.

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t.

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love.

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all.

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh.

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant.

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this…

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate.

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry.

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.”

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings.

it’s a perfect fit.

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit.

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves.

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?)

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses.

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together.

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer.

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear.

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected.

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.)

”… why aren’t you saying anything?”

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet.

he’s completely stunned.

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck.

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy.

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal.

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears.

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens.

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle.

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration.

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look.

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression.

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.”

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear.

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted.

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters.

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet.

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all.

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips.

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins.

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin.

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin.

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying.

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink.

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile.

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!”

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible.

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there.

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful —

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard.#just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also…..#it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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m4rried2the-moon · 6 days

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( 𝙋𝙄𝘾𝙆 𝘼 𝙋𝙄𝘾 ) 𓇢𓆸 𝙩𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙪𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 & 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨

🪷🪞✨ blessings and lessons for taurus season

hello ! know this is a late time coming (sorry T_T) but this is what you may have learned this taurus season and what blessings you have or are going to receive <3

please listen to your intuition carefully and take only what resonates !

pile one 𓇢𓆸

blessings: three of coins, eight of cups, six of swords/the magician

lessons: eight of wands, ten of pentacles, ace of pentacles

the blessings you have/will receive this taurus season are collaboration with important people, getting asked for important and regarded highly in your endeavors. your blessings can also look like you taking what you know and using it to your advantage. seeing that you are being given the strength to leave situations that no longer serve you. there is an energy of 'master manifestor' with this forward movement, you are leaving behind situations that you may regret or feel guilty for this transition but you know you're receiving better.

lessons for you, pile one, are of knowing you are supported by the universe when you make decisions for yourself. you are learning that the stability that you seek is within you and you can create quite literally anything to your heart's desire. you may have received an opportunity for growth and messages of fruition from past efforts. overall you are learning that with hard work and self-love, your wildest dreams are at your fingertips.

pile two 𓇢𓆸

blessings: nine of pentacles, page of wands/ace of wands, the moon

lessons: five of wands, the lovers, three of swords, four of swords

blessings for you, pile two, may look like you coming into your own in the way of self-sufficiency and doing sh*t on your own. green lights ahead for any projects you've been wanting to start or finding new ones. inspiration is one of your gifts this Taurus season, you may also find this thriving energy to move you out of fear and paranoia. you are no longer subject to but the overruler of your inner world.

lessons this taurus season are centered around taking challenges in stride, combatting against ideas that do not fit your growth and progress. this cycle could also be teaching you to commit to your deepest wishes and go after what you want. you cannot allow heartbreak to stop you from being where you want to be. untie the blindfold, get a new perspective and step around what's "blocking" you.

pile three 𓇢𓆸

blessings: five of pentacles, king of cups, page of swords, judgement

lessons: seven of swords, three of wands, three of cups

blessings for you this taurus season, pile three, look like getting out of the cold of financial/emotional/mental poverty. you are looking at your life and how far you've come with an emotional maturity that is overtaking you recently. you are aware of what has lead to thinking less of yourself/circumstances and found a way to expand your emotional field to be a better friend to yourself. to look at your life and what you're building with more hope. this could even look like good news about something you've been wanting to start but have pessimistic about due to delays.

lessons for this season is to go easier on yourself when it comes to your ambitions and what you've worked hard for. these blessings sneak up on you like a surprise party and while you have been led on this entire time, you find that you are being celebrated at the end of the day. why? because your effort has amounted to exactly what you thought it would! so take it easy on your hopes

thank you for reading ! hope this helped and you got what you needed ! pls don't forget to like & reblog <3

#pick a picture #tarotblr #pick a card #tarot #free readings #pick a pile #tarot reading #taurus season #taurus

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copperbadge · 9 days

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I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

#writing #sam writes

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adventuringblind · 8 months

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Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Three

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Jos overhear a conversation and the trio finds themselves in a confrontation

Warnings: Jos being Jos, Oscar throwing hands, implied homophobia and slurs

Notes: I definitely wasn’t listening to eye of the tiger while writing this…

Previous <-

Masterlist

It’s was only a matter of time until someone noticed. Max had been more then smiley as of late and it wasn’t just because he was dominating the sport. He’d fallen head over heal and looked like a love sick puppy.

His smile tends to grow a little extra when someone brings up either of his partners. He just blamed on the fact he thought they were doing well and had become friends with both.

Christian didn’t fall for it. He wasn’t team principal for nothing. He’s an observant man and had seen it in the way Max moved, his he talked, even in his driving.

Max found himself being pulled aside by Christian into a space where the people either didn’t bother them or didn’t care what they were talking about.

“Care to tell me what has you so happy lately?”

Max panics and stutters, then ends up just shrugging his shoulders. “The weather.” He mentally face palms at the terrible lie.

Christian laughs at him and grabs his shoulders. “It’s a miracle you can make it through interviews sometimes.” He releases him again before continuing. “Are you going to tell me the truth now.”

“First promise me you won’t be mad and that you won’t judge.”

“Would you like me to pinky swear it?”

Max rolls his eyes but continues one. “I’m in a relationship.”

“Well I already knew that part.” A skirt tugs on Christian’s lips. “Who is the lucky lass? Or is it a lad?” The playful eyebrow raise puts Max oddly at ease.

“Both actually.” His hands get clams and he wants nothing more to disappear at the confession. The fear of judgement giving him nervous energy.

“… Like two partners or gender-fluid?” The genuine curiosity in the older males voice made him relax. He wanted to know and was supportive it seems.

“Two Partners. Y/N and Oscar, actually.” He is hopeless. He can’t even say their names without smiling.

Christian is also smiling widely. “I’m so happy for you! Remember this is a safe space and if anyone says anything please let me know. If not afraid to tell someone off.”

Max feels the tension leave his body. His initial panic evaporating into think air. “Thank you, it means a lot really.”

“Are you three going to go public? If so then please tell me sooner rather then later so the team is prepared.”

“No plans for that right now, just figuring things out. But I’ll make sure to let you know.”

Despite their plans to not go public or let more people into their secret, someone was ,siting just around the corner.

Max texted them immediately after the conversation. They still had a few hours before the race so he wasn’t to worried about time.

Max: Christian knows

Y/N: … is he upset?

Max: No, he’s actually really supportive

Oscar: interesting turn of events

Max: you two aren’t mad with me?

Y/N: why would we be mad? Christian is basically your dad!

Oscar: we made a decision that we are disowning Jos

Max: I don’t think that’s how that works

Y/N: don’t care. He’s disowned.

Max chuckles at their comments. They are both younger then him but neither would hesitate to protect him from anything. Including his aggressive father.

He didn’t notice a problem at first. He thought it was normal until he got up to formula 1 and Daniel told him that it’s not. Christian and Seb followed after him. Soon Max was in a position where he had to come to terms with his childhood.

He’d yet to do that because despite it all, Jos is still his father and he loves him.

All that to say he wouldn’t be surprised if the female in their trio ended up punching him one day.

It had been an absolutely shitty race for her. She’s on the verge of tears when she’s getting ready to leave until Yuki comes sliding around the corner. “They have more stuff to talk about.” She can hear the annoyance in her his voice.

“What if we just run away.”

“I may be fast, but my legs are short. We’d never make it.”

She groans and sends a quick text to the boys telling them she is going to be late and they can leave without her. Instead of the response she was expecting, they said they’d wait for her by the paddock entrance.

She smiled reading the text, then locked her phone again.

Her legs feel heavy as she walks through the dark and almost deserted paddock. Her brain has already shut off and she wants nothing more then to curl up with her lovers and sleep until next year.

A pair of heavy footsteps fall in line behind her. She assumes it’s just leftover staff and continues her journey. That is, until she hears the thick Dutch accent of Jos Verstappen. The last person on the planet she wants to see.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He yells out to her.

“I’m late for something, sorry.” She doesn’t look at him. She fears if she does she might not be able to hold her tongue or hands and the last thing she wants to do it get in trouble.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up. She blames her uncooperative appendages.

“We need to talk.” He grabs her bicep and she yelps in surprise.

“I really am la-“

“You and the Australian keep away from my son.”

She panics. Her breathing gets labored faster then she would’ve liked. Questions fill her mind of how he knows. She tries to yank her arms away but he tightens his grip.

“Never.” She spits. He used his free hand to wipe his face. She can feel him heating with anger as his movements become jagged. She readies herself for the possibility of a swing. At least if he hits her first then she can hit him back.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” The much more soothing Dutch accent yells from behind her.

“Is it true? You’re really lumping yourself in with this nonsense?” Max had almost forgotten why he doesn’t tell his father things. He’d had to relearn everything when he was finally able to spend time with people who wanted him to understand that the internalized homophobia that he’d grown up with was not okay in any sense.

“Yeah, I am.” Max keeps his distance. His father is prone to aggression and Max fears for the girl currently in his hold.

The fear and simultaneous relief flood through him as he pushes her straight to the ground. The look of pain and exhaustion in her eyes is hard to look at.

She doesn’t move. She can’t find the energy to do so.

“Your no son of mine. My son would never be a fa-“ He does not get the chance to finish his sentence. Oscar had connected his fist to the Dutch’s face and sent him stumbling backwards.

She could feel Oscar seething. She’d never seen him lose his temper. Ever. Since she’d known him. He could be cold and calculated but this was a whole new level.

She looked at Max who was now gently hugging Oscar from behind and trying to calm the anger behind the Australians eyes. He also looked at her for some sort of understanding. Neither of them had any clue what to do.

“Say it again. I fucking dare you.” Oscar held his gaze on the older man. It felt as if time had frozen around them. “You have no right to say such things.”

Oh. It clicked for her then. He’d done this before with one of her exes. A few of them actually.

It’s not like she’d never been with a female before. She’d been called that F slur before and it definitely didn’t feel right. Oscar had also punched them. There was no hesitation behind his swing either.

Jos just stares back at them and Max had no other ideas except to get Oscar away before he gets himself in trouble. She watches as he starts tugging him back towards the entrance. Stopping to give you a hand up. Then she held Oscars hand in hers the entire way back to the hotel. Despite his earlier anger, he held her hand so gently and occasionally placed kisses on her knuckles. Reciprocating the action to Max when they came to a stop sign or red light.

He’d still not settled down when they got to the hotel room. His frantic pacing and angry rant seemed to help, but only so much.

“Love, pretty sure there are other ways to help you get some of this energy out.” She purrs. Had she noticed max is turned on? Yes. Is she also turned on? Yes. Have both of them been whispering about the rage fueled Aussie being turned on? Again, yes.

He freezes and eyes both of them with a rather lustful gaze.

Sometimes the best cure to pent up energy is really good sex.

Max wakes up to the awful sound of his phone buzzing. The blissful feeling of his lovers tangled in the sheets with him now ruined by the terrible sound.

Still he looks at the caller ID and almost chokes when he sees Christian’s name on his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Max… I was wondering if you could shed some light on why your father called to tell me not to let, and I quote, ‘the deranged McLaren Australian’ anywhere near out garage?”

Max laughs. It’s probably not the right time and the other two are now awake and trying to tug him down into the bed, but he can’t help it. “Oscar punched him last night because he used the F word.”

“The F word? Doesn’t Oscar say fuck? I’ve heard him before I think.”

“I should clarify: the F slur.”

Silence falls from the other end of the line. For a moment Max things he lost connection until he hears Christian grumbling. “Tell Oscar he’s allowed in anytime he wants and your father will be receiving a strongly worded letter about how he’s not welcome back.”

Again, Max can only laugh at the situation and how it’s unfolded. He’s not complaining though. It’s nice knowing that he doesn’t always have to fight for himself.

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spriteofmushrooms · 7 months

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Hi! I've read your jc's post and I find interesting how you framed jc and jyl's relationship. we don't have one single scene only about them (novel canon), because it's from wwx's pov mostly. So there's a lot of room for interpretations. For example, imo their relationship is almost quite balanced; jyl is much more a mother figure for wwx than she is for jc, because jc has a living mother, a mother he fiercely loves. jyl doesn't need to stress much about jc, because he doesn't give problems. At his worst, jc is a bitch. wwx, at his worst, is a BIG problem. Also the moment when jc says that jyl is the one who has to forgive jzx, not them, it's an important moment Imo, because it gives me the impression that he perceives her as a person and he respects her wishes. I would love to hear your interpretation about them and their relationship!

I agree with you, anon. Also, I've been thinking of this every day since you sent it. Thanks for the obsession.

Jiang Yanli is the only authority figure in Jiang Cheng's life who gently corrects him and encourages him to be better without damning him for having flaws. When Jiang Cheng kicks out Wei Ying, she is the one he knows will help him. She does so, and she encourages him to apologize and put Wei Ying's bed back in his room--which Jiang Cheng, it turns out, has already done. Whenever Jiang Yanli corrects him, he accepts her better judgement and never argues or feels unloved or compared to anyone. Jiang Yanli is, I think, a truly kind person, without whom the household would not survive.

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng to comfort Mianmian in the cave; and he says that Jin Ling looks like his mother only when he's crying, at which point Jiang Cheng defends and comforts him. I think Jiang Cheng was the one who comforted Yanli, while Wei Wuxian likely tried to distract her. Jiang Cheng can accept his people's negative emotions; Wei Wuxian almost seems to blame himself for them.

Jiang Yanli is the only person that we know Jiang Cheng is comfortable showing his softest side to. Therefore, she must be completely safe. If she teases him, it's gently and without malice; but I don't think she teases him. He privately suggests that Wei Wuxian give Jin Ling his courtesy name; Jiang Yanli shares this because she knows Wei Wuxian would feel loved by this gesture.

When YunmengJiang is in desperate need of allies, respectability, and funds, Jiang Cheng gently rebuffs Jin Guangshan's offer of a rekindled betrothal. He respects Jiang Yanli enough to make her own decision, and he values her more than political gain. She, in turn, trusts him to mean what he says; and I think she knows that Jiang Cheng would have supported her all her life in Lotus Pier if she could not find a love match.

In short, I think they were tied together very closely.

My personal headcanons include that she teaches him how to do non-cultivation things when he's overwhelmed, like cooking and needlework. Before he was old enough to understand why Yanli doesn't cultivate (which I accept CQL's suggestion that she's chronically ill), he tried to help her improve by giving her baby lessons on meditation. I think that Jiang Cheng is a deep well into which secrets can be shared without fear, and I think he was safe for her to express her more filial negative opinions. I think she was the safest person to tell any positive, delicate feelings to.

Baby Jiang Cheng followed her around like a duckling. After she married, he must have visited dozens of times. Through her, Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan were able to understand each other better; as you may have seen in my recent chengning ficlet, I think that happy year ended with Jiang Cheng privately calling him Zixuan-ge.

All she wanted to be truly content was for her a-Xian to come home. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng tried to make it happen for her. Because who wouldn't want to make her happy?

#pallas.rtf #mdzs #hi anon #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #canon jiang cheng

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casurlaub · 5 days

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Can we please agree that liking a character doesn't mean you have to explain away their every bad call? And that disliking a character doesn't mean you have to overlook their good qualities to have them fit your narrative? No one is just this or that. It's always a range.

The lack of nuance in parts of this fandom annoys me so much. And let's please drop the double standards - finding excuses for every 'bad' thing character A does while demonizing character B.

Dumbledore is no super villain. Yes, he put defeating Voldemort over Harry's (emotional) needs. He isn't some supportive father figure, but he's not responsible for the war nor everyone's decision to join in. 'He raised an army of children' - um no? Because if so, he, the greatest wizard of the age, did a shitty job. In both wizarding wars it was just one group of friends joining the Order, not a huge number of former students. So either super-smart Dumbledore seriously sucked at recruiting, or maybe he didn't try all that hard?

James wasn't some prime example of social justice warrior from the very beginning. Yes, he had - to some extent - a set moral code, he hated the Dark Arts, and he certainly never used dark curses on others. But he found it entertaining to hex students at random. He was a classic bully; he did it because he could and because he found it funny. He enjoyed it. But that doesn't mean he had no good traits - he cared for his friends, befriended Remus (practically an outcast), and later he changed. I can't get over the people who find excuses for Snape's bullying of his students, of literal children when he's an adult, but seem to think James was the worst person to ever exist.

Sirius has a ton of good qualities; I could write an essay about it. But guess what, that doesn't make the prank thing okay (no matter if Remus cared about it). The same goes for the Snape bullying and his condescending (cruel) behavior towards Peter. And his treatment of Kreacher, who was oppressed, not the oppressor. And why do we applaud him for 'forgiving' Remus in PoA for not trying to get him out of Azkaban? What's there to applaud? He was in Azkaban because he thought Remus was the spy, did we forget that? How do we expect Remus to suss out that Sirius thought himself clever enough to outsmart not only Voldemort but also Dumbledore? Sirius isn't on some moral high ground here. He wasn't in Azkaban because of Remus but because of his own arrogance and lapse of judgement.

Remus isn't some impersonated moral code. He isn't 'the sensible one' by default. He makes a ton of shitty, truly awful decisions (roaming Hogsmeade while a werewolf, not telling Dumbledore about the secret passages or Sirius's animagus form in PoA even after Sirius, the alleged mass murderer with an agenda of killing Harry, broke into Harry's dorm, abandoning Tonks...). But he isn't some master manipulator with a hidden agenda either. He was driven by his self-loathing first and foremost. And when did it become worse to be a bystander than to participate in the actual bullying? (I'm not saying it's okay, but how can we find excuses for James and Sirius, but Remus is super evil for doing... nothing? When it's stated that Snape was following him and trying to uncover his secret to get him expelled? Shocking he didn't feel all that sympathetic.) Of course he is passive-aggressive, of course he was selfish/cowardish, I don't know, but he isn't evil? He's usually kind (ffs, he even felt pity for Greyback), and his issues are in the end all rooted in his endless self-loathing. That doesn't excuse it. It doesn't. But it doesn't mean he's acting like he does because he's an inherently bad person. This idea of inherently 'bad' or 'good' people is naive and harmful anyhow. Besides - I feel some standards imposed on him are impossible to meet, when the same people are quick to explain away James's/Sirius's/Snape's flaws. Remus is suffering from massive childhood trauma that he's forced to relive every month, he's stigmatized for it by society his whole life, but he himself is supposed to just 'let it go'? Without therapy or anything? Right...

And even Lily isn't a saint. She's fighting back a smile when James is bullying her (supposedly) best friend?

Snape is no tragic hero whose every wrong is justified because he turned around and sacrificed himself. Of course, he was brave. Of course, he had a shitty childhood. That doesn't give him a free pass. He was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts when he arrived at Hogwarts already, he invented curses like Sectumsempra while at Hogwarts, he sold the 'love of his life' to Voldemort. And even after he 'changed' and overcame his fascist views, he bullied children he was supposed to take care of - as a grown man. Not only Harry, but also Neville, Hermione, Ron, who knows how many others. So, yeah, cool, he protected their lives 'when it counted' - 'when it counted'??? You don't belittle your students, you don't insult them, you don't threaten to poison their pets no matter what happened to you when you were a kid. You're an adult, take responsibility. Easy as that. What happened to you may be an explanation, but not an excuse. And do we really think he didn't strike back at James and Sirius? That it was just James and Sirius and him taking it lying down without doing anything himself? I don't.

It's entirely natural to relate more to one character than another and to feel more sympathetic towards them. But let's move away from this 'all or nothing' way of thinking.

To me, they're all beautiful because they're flawed. It makes them real. I don't want them to be stripped of their flaws, not even my favorite characters.

Don't take Sirius's darkness away, don't turn Remus into the ever gentle voice of reason or the super selfish master manipulator (same goes for Dumbledore) and ffs don't excuse Snape's fascist views and bullying of children.

#let them be morally grey #hp meta #albus dumbledore #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #severus snape #lily evans #marauders #marauders canon

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owlight · 1 year

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My request: Zoro, Luffy and Law reacting at gender neutral reader giving up their marine job to join them.

Thanks for requesting ,I love this sm I think we should have a marine join the strawhats,also sorry Luffy one is so long I love him,also just headcanons for this

Tags: Fluff ngl ,is mostly paltonic relationships with them!

Luffy ,Zoro,Law reacting to A GN!marine leaving Thier marine job to join their crew

Luffy

let's be honest he probably asked you to join him and you were 'damn why not' and decided to give up your Marine officer position and join him

strawhats propaganda be working so good ig??

- He is actually surprised but happy you Left the marine to join him

if crew says no ,he will be" ): plz guys they are so cool! They almost kicked Zoro ass In the fight earlier " and zoro will be like ''they DID NOT "

he is so goofy ,he will accept you joining with open arms , welcome to the crew

you will be the new member who will die from heart attack everytime luff pull the crew and jump from a high building, welcome to the team

-you will most likely get along the most with Franky because he will the most understandable of you begin a former enemy (a marine) since he kinda also was that himself

also robin was bit suspicious of you at first but she warmed up to you quickly since she low-key trust Luffy judgement (she shouldn't)

good luck getting rid of Luffy ,he will up your face everyday till he eventfully get used of you begin around the ship

if you joined cuz you're in love with him, good luck with making him realize that ,he is as bright as a rock when it come to these things and will take a long while for him to return those feelings

Everyone respect your gender neutral identity,Luffy a bit confused about it but he really Be trying his best

" HE/SHE GO BY THEY/THEM PRONOUNCE !!! don't disrespect them!!!!"

he is very supportive dw he will get the jest of it soon enough by nami beating his ass into remembering it correctly

you either going to join the no braincells team (Zoro,Luffy, Chopper) ,or the almost functional braincells team (Sanji , Usopp,Franky) , or the braincells (Jinbe,nami,robin) ,pick wisely it will effect your future with the crew and the adventures

10/10 best decision you made of your life

Zoro

You have to ask Luffy first and since Luffy have 1 braincell and he agreed quickly, Zoro was okay with you joining even though you were a former marine ,the more the merrier (?)

Will be very skeptical about you leaving for him(?) Why would you? He won't question it to you in your face ,but he is wondering often about your reasoning

joined cuz you like him? He is low-key flustered by that and he will not show it,he will eat his left leg before showing that he is flustered by that

joined cuz he inspired you and you find him awesome and so strong and inspiring and want to be like him? You're his new best friend ig ,he need validation, thank you giving him some

new sparing buddy which is him kicking your ass the whole sparing match and only begin apologetic cuz chopper is scolding him as he bandage you up ,but you don't care ,you look at Zoro with admiration anyway ,and that make Zoro heart soften a bit

you end up spending lot with time with him ,ya even convinced him to shower after every training session he have as you both talk while vibing fr ( everyone on the crew is so thankful for you)

you learn that he is secretly a very sweet guy ,which is not a surprise,the whole crew is very sweet,Zoro is really good at hiding it behind his tough personality

you both end up bonding over your passion for your dreams,his begin the greatest swordman and yours is begin the baddest bitch alive

He respects your gender identity fr ,he is like Luffy but more careful about it ngl

" good to know shitty swirly eyebrows won't bother you then" Sanji would give him a mean look " (y/n) still beautiful and I'm not bothering any-NAMI SWAAAAN YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL" smmmh

He is like a good companion,you try to make him not get lost,but end up getting lost together because he is too prideful to follow your direction (you were right about going left)

he find your present comforting and he like taking naps with you sitting next to him, keeping an eye out for him

two pretty best friends ( maybe more..?)

Law

impressed,Almost was going to tell you no out of pettiness but ehhhh you fought him well and actually managed to not be shambled into pieces (and You are kinda cute he had to agree with Shachi and penguin)

if you joined because you just want to join him in his journey and admire him,cool he don't mind ,the more the merrier

if you joined him because it's some love in first sight kind of reasons, he would be cool ,as long you respect his captain authority he doesn't care (on the insides he is a flustered mess)

he agreed,why not more helping hands in the crew ,good luck with the cleaning duty for the first month cuz he want to test your limits

you had no limits cuz you cleaned everything the first two hours and kinda went on to vibe with the crew, impressive but he grumpy cuz he was hoping to make you feel like the hard tasks

doesn't mind you Begin GN ,he have a mink as a right hand,the world have giant people live in,not even surprised by it ,he kinda even like it some of his crew already express themselves that way so good for you,you won't feel so out of place in this crew

he is a good captain and a very good friend you will learn that from interacting with the crew,he is very responsible and very understanding

if you fail a task , he would in fact guide you through it to how to be successful at it,he might be a past warlord and The surgeon of death,but he quite the good captain

he would like to spar with you from time to time cuz you're kinda nice to to look at but he won't admit that's the actual reason

he is like a cat,he slow blinks at you and he hope you understand he is begin affectionate with you ,you either get it and be happy about it or you wonder why tf is your captain blinking in Morse code 'you need frogs' so much

the crew is betting on when you both will end up realizing you like each others , hopefully soon

Unfortunately it will take literally 2 years of slow burn,two almost death experience to have law kinda realizing that,unlike you ,you kinda realized that after seeing him shirtless once

M sick again 🫶 went to ER nd they said I was too dehydrated ,smh,,, hopefully this post good for now

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #luffy d monkey #luffy x reader #law x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x you #owl writes #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #my beloved #anonymous

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just-a-fragment · 10 months

Text

It's jung heewon's birthday and gosh her character arc still hits hard even after finishing the novel for almost a year now.

She was a "nameless background character" and when she was introduced it's implied she was a victim of one of the most cruel crimes someone can commit to another person(and yet its something that happens to most women).

In this scene, KDJ's commentary states that its a "cliche" or not an unexpected development that happens to "nameless" characters whenever a story has societal collapse. So it's very refreshing that not only did she turn out to be such an important character, but when she gained one of the more powerful attack skills, she was able to enact her vengeance and carry this righteous catharsis throughout the novel. But it doesn't stop there!

The skill actually contains a caveat. She wasn't the one who decided which "evil" is deserving of being killed. She has to constantly answer to a system that has to unanimously "vote" if the skill should be used or not. So while she's extremely powerful, there were times where she wasn't able to defend herself just because the system of good decided that her enemy wasn't worthy of punishment.

Except who are these constellations to decide if someone was worthy or not, especially when, aside from delighting in these spectacles, they weren't the ones affected by such grievances. She has seen how the so-called "good" abandoned her and her companions in vital times, that's why it was so satisfying when she finally gained full autonomy to enact her own judgement. She saw that the system doesn't actually adhere to morality but to an audience, to authorities who never cared for their own well-being in the first place. The best part about this arc is not just how her skill evolved from adhering to a shaky yet rigid parameter to the intrinsic desire to protect the ones you love but how it doesn't abhor the way she handled her trauma! It was never implied that the rage she felt was cruel/any less.

Her story arc is such a kind fate that most authors rarely consider for characters who suffered the same as her. It's established early on that aside from being one of the most powerful characters, she's also funny! she's very caring to the kids, she mentors jihye, she's very loyal to kimcom. She has one of the more consistent moral codes in the novel, she's justice personified. It's what makes her character arc so satisfying, her trauma never retracted any of this, because that's always been who she is.

Her character arc could've just been dissecting her trauma around men, but it's also how it's incredibly hard to maintain your sense of justice/sense of self under an oppressive system. How even the most capable people are held back.

She's not reduced to some brooding/tsundere combat side character, who not only overly relies on the male mc but experiences more trauma to further male mc / other male character developments, which unfortunately happens to characters that have the same fate as her.

Like she's incredibly loyal to dokja but she questions his decisions, she doesn't praise him as a god that goes through with all of his plans just because he saved her, Because she doesn't owe him anything and both of them know this! By the end of the novel she was the one who felt remorse, but her loyalty is still there.

Same thing can be said with Hyunsung who was consistently willing to be a tool for her catharsis, for her righteous anger, and this might be a controversial opinion, but I actually kinda liked that they broke up! In the brief/rare times we get their perspective, yeah we can see that they actually do care/love each other, we can't deny that their love story was born from the apocalypse. It was never confirmed but I wouldn't ignore the possibility that to some constellations, their relationship was a spectacle, people were supporting them, or egging them on(I mean we even see how HSY placed a bet on them)

It's a very refreshing or even realistic take to these kinds of storylines, yes Hyunsung helped her when she was broken, yes he helped her with her trauma, yes they loved each other. But the implication that Heewon, someone who was introduced as a person whose agency was taken from her, being able to decide that her "knight-in-shining armor" isn't her endgame, and being able to acknowledge that it isn't the right time, but the love existed, the love was still there(which is one of orv's main themes). Like that's such a powerful and important message!

I also like how the side stories addresses the argument on whether or not she deserves the backstory she got like!!! SS already proved that she was written with so much care, so much interiority, so much agency, so much love. I wish I could write more(even though this post is already long lol) but I haven't read the side stories.

So yeah HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HEEWON WOMAN OF ALL TIME.

#orv #orv spoilers #HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HEEWON #orv analysis #jung heewon #jhw #omniscient reader's viewpoint

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yestrnight · 11 months

Note

slime brainrot anon, back again with another, shorter rot for ya. bc the first one got too long

shrinking yourself to tag along with alhaitham to work! cw for: dubcon, exhibitionism, kink discovery, i do not know how his job works so i just guessed lol

at first, you simply chill in his belt-pouch thing (it's a fanny pack but mihoyo won't admit it), sit on his shoulder or head, or roll around on his desk until you eventually get bored and slide down into his pants.

he tries his best to get you out, but sticky and slippery as you are, you persist, so he eventually resigns himself to his fate. it's going to be a long day when each step of his makes you shift around his cock. at least his belts and sashes cover up the evidence.

in an unfortunate turn of events, alhaitham is forced to walk much more than usual that shift. while he usually sits at his desk, he now has to pace laps around the archives sorting and organizing tomes.

and to make matters worse, you've escalated from simply wrapping yourself around him, to actually moving and teasing him.

the poor scribe is trying his best to keep the shaking of his legs, and the noises that threaten to slip out to a minimum. but after some time, he's stumbling as he walks, using the walls and shelves for support.

eventually, he gets oh so close, having to stop and lean up against a bookshelf, gripping the shelves while he tries in vain not to buck his hips into nothing. and alhaitham bites his lip, breathes in, and out, tries to keep level, but he can't help the quiet, low, breathy moans that slip out, and the way his head tips back and his eyes roll up into his skull.

luckily, the archives are usually quiet. unluckily, one of his superiors has ambled in, looking for a specific file.

and alhaitham can't decide if it's luck or unlucky that you've slowed your pace, but not stopped.

his self control is almost, almost strong enough to keep from breaking. hey, he made it pretty far into the ordeal, you have to give him that.

alhaitham's not exactly the religious type- far from it, but he thanks all of celestia that the unknowing sage is turned away, absorbed in the sound of their own one sided conversation. and that he's able to keep quiet enough when he cums in his pants, only letting out one, hitching intake of breath as he grips the shelves so hard he almost dents them, mouth open in a silent moan, convulsing, nearly collapsing.

for a sage, his superior is pretty stupid. chalking up the scribe's somewhat debauched appearance- his flushed face, labored breath, and slight tremble to fatigue, recommending him a cup of tea and a break before sauntering out.

he does end up taking a break, watching you gurgle happily in slime form while you bounce around his office, and he just doesn't have it in him at the moment to discipline you.

because he's too busy thinking about why in the hell being secretly fucked in front of one of his bosses felt so good.

extras!! cw for: implied dom character (but it's vague enough,) mild objectification, slime cum, aphrodisiac

letting one (or several) of your masters actually be in control for once, by using you as a fleshlight

it's obvious that fucking them brought you some level of enjoyment, but were slimes actually capable of bona fide sexual pleasure?

apparently, they are. and your masters are drinking up your adorable reactions to having your slime gspot? prostate? erogenous zone??? massaged by their cocks.

and apparently, slimes can also cum. if this sweet smelling, viscous material you're gushing counts.

in a moment of poor impulse control (some might claim scientific curiosity), they find out that it tastes as sweet as it smells. and- ah, they'd be regretting that decision if their minds weren't clouded by an almost unbearable desire for more.

their judgement may be a bit skewed right now, but perhaps a few more rounds wouldn't hurt... actually, fuck it. they need more.

it's bound to be a long day, and night, for the both of you.

isn't it always though? hey, at least this time, they might actually be able to keep up with you.

super excited for part two of the series :)

actually feeling really horny for slime reader so i'm gonna satiate myself with this masterpoece in my inbox <3

ahhh haitham being fucked wide open in front of his boss <33 and subby slime reader being used as a pocket pussy for their masters :(( they're so cute fr

#nite.thirsts #genshin smut

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fictionadventurer · 1 year

Text

Because @maltheniel has enabled me, I'm going to tell you about William Henry Seward.

If you had the American history education that I had, you might have heard of a thing called Seward's Folly--also known as Alaska. Seward was the Secretary of State who was mocked for buying America territory in what appeared to be a barren wasteland, until he was vindicated by the discovery of oil and gold and a jillion other useful natural resources. If you had the education that I had, this is the only thing you heard about him, but the more I look into the Civil War, the more baffling this is, because this guy is everywhere in the political scene of the time.

Seward was an extremely vocal anti-slavery Whig from New York. He started as a US Senator in 1849, and he became part of President Zachary Taylor's inner circle, influencing him to support measures to keep slavery out of the new territories. After Taylor died, the question of slavery in the territories dominated politics for the next decade, with the conflict getting more heated and the positions getting more polarized. The Whig Party fell apart because of disagreements over the issue; Seward held on for as long as he could, but eventually joined the newly-forming Republican Party, and became well-known for his eloquent speeches against slavery.

When it came time to choose the Republican nominee for the 1860 presidential election, Seward was by far the top candidate. All but a shoe-in. Unfortunately, some of his anti-slavery speeches were a bit too eloquent, and gave him a reputation for being much more radically anti-slavery than he was. A significant portion of the party doubted he could win a nationwide election when slavery was such a divisive issue. This gave Lincoln's team a chance to pitch him as a less-radical option, which allowed him to come from behind and win the nomination.

Seward was extremely gracious about the loss, immediately publishing letters announcing his full support of Lincoln as candidate, and putting his own campaign manager to work getting Lincoln elected. Privately, though, he was seething. He had been in politics for decades, helped to build the party, and then lost his chance at the presidency to a guy who'd been working as a backwoods lawyer for the last twelve years.

But he knew his politics, and knew it was better to support the party's candidate than to oppose him. Lincoln offered Seward the prime Cabinet position of Secretary of State--he was qualified for it and deserved it--and Seward accepted. Seward hoped that he'd be able to help select the other Cabinet members, so he could pick people from his own faction who he'd work well with. Then he, with his extensive connections and political experience, could be the real head of the administration, with Lincoln as a compliant figurehead.

Lincoln was having none of it. He listened to Seward's suggestions, but he'd basically already chosen the people he wanted for his Cabinet, across all factions of the party. While he made use of Seward's expertise and trusted him as Secretary of State, he was going to be head of his own administration and be the one making all the final decisions. After a rocky start, Seward came to recognize that Lincoln had a shrewd mind and good judgement, and he became Lincoln's loyal supporter and a good friend.

But there was a persistent idea that Seward was the real power behind the throne, sparked partly by the prominent role he took in Washington between the election and the inauguration. States started seceding almost as soon aa Lincoln was elected, and Seward was the one who had to hold things together in Washington while Lincoln was tying things up in Illinois. He was getting reports from informants, watching out for Southern spies, and keeping Lincoln abreast of what was going on. He gave a stirring speech to Congress urging the Southern states to keep the Union together, offering all sorts of concessions to mollify them, such as amendments preventing the federal government from interfering with slavery. It was a highly controversial speech, and his wife, Frances, raked him over the coals for it. She understood, earlier than almost anybody, that this crisis would turn into a long war about slavery, and that they couldn't afford to bend on that issue, even to keep the Union together. (Lincoln privately approved of several measures Seward talked about, but publicly said little, preferring to see the public's response to Seward before taking official positions.)

Seward was a little bit like a Civil War version of Evil Chancellor Traytor. Under both Lincoln and Johnson, rumors persisted that Seward was the shadowy figure who was really in charge, secretly manipulating the president into making unpopular decisions, even though most of the time, Seward had nothing to do those decisions, and often disagreed at least partially with what the president chose to do.

Best example of the effects of this misconception is the time Seward came under attack during the middle of the war. The war was going badly, and since people couldn't directly attack the president, they started going after Seward. Chase, the Treasury Secretary, told some members of Congress that Seward was the reason the Cabinet couldn't get along, and that he was always trying to take control. These senators wanted to meet with the president and force him to get rid of Seward. When Seward heard about this, he gave Lincoln his letter of resignation, not wanting to cause problems for the administration. Lincoln responded by allowing the senators to join in a Sewardless Cabinet meeting. When confronted with both the senators and the Cabinet, Chase was forced to admit that his stories had been exaggerated, and the other Cabinet members rallied to Seward's defense, resenting Congress' meddling. Lincoln refused to accept Seward's resignation, and Seward returned to the Cabinet, having been saved by Lincoln's political acumen.

I'm going to skip ahead so I can tell you the craziest part of the story. Four days before the Civil War officially ended, Seward got into a carriage accident that left him bedridden with a broken jaw and a bunch of other injuries. When told of Lee's surrender on April 9th, Seward said (through a broken jaw, after barely surviving a painful accident), "For the first time in my life, you've made me cry." (Which is both touching and an incredibly badass claim, given what he's just suffered.)

Five days later, John Wilkes Booth shot the president at Ford's Theater. Everyone knows (or should know) that part of the story. What I didn't know was that his conspiracy also called for Seward's assassination. Booth knew his Shakespeare and didn't want to leave Seward alive as a Marc Antony to eulogize the dead tyrant. (He also wanted to kill Andrew Johnson, but that assassin chickened out, and it's not really important to this story).

While Booth was at the theater, his co-conspirator went to Seward's house under the pretense of delivering medication. When Seward's son wouldn't let him go upstairs, the assassin tried to shoot him and broke his skull with the gun. The assassin then made his way to Seward's bedroom--where, I need you to remember, Seward was still bed-ridden--and stabbed him five times in the face and neck. Like, sliced away flaps of flesh. The only reason Seward didn't die was because the splint for his broken jaw deflected the blade away from his jugular vein. And because his other son and bodyguard made it into the room and forced the assassin to flee.

Chalk this one up in the "Parts of American History I'm Furious No One Told Me About" column.

While Seward was recovering, they hid the president's death from him, thinking he wouldn't survive the shock. But he figured it out three days later when he saw the flags at half-staff through his bedroom window, and realized that if Lincoln were alive, he'd have been the first to come see Seward after the attack.

Of course, Seward survived (badly scarred) and went on to buy Alaska. Which is an interesting story. But not half so interesting as all the stuff that came before it.

#history is awesome #presidential talk #answered asks #maltheniel #i really tried to keep this short #but there's just too much that i find interesting about this guy #like i said he was involved in everything political at the time #and you've got to talk about a lot of it to get across just how involved he was #like i had the whole post written out and then realized i hadn't even talked about the between-administrations thing #i can't leave that out!#so even though no one wants to read that much about william seward i want to tell you that much about him and it's my blog so there #i also have to add that it was very satisfying to head to wikipedia #and find out that his first political party was specifically an anti-mason party #and that he got criticized for his support of catholics #he's a career politician so there's a lot to disapprove of but i very much like both of those things about him

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swallowerofdharma · 1 month

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So, what is Berserk about after all?

Please be considerate to me, don’t repost this, don’t share it outside of tumblr, don’t copy parts of it, thank you.

I have read really funny critiques and reviews of Berserk. Often they would refer to Miura supposedly saying that he didn’t plan everything out and they would use this statement to support their argument that after the Golden Age arc the story just looked like it dragged on. One, don’t ever fully believe what artists and writers say about their work. Second, without a proper conclusion it is impossible to make that kind of judgement and the story is ongoing. Then, not having a plan or having just vague ideas and taking inspiration here and there isn’t how manga works or how it gets published. When asked in an interview why he started creating Haibane Renmei as a doujinshi, Yoshitoshi Abe replied: “With mainstream publishing, it would've been difficult to do it with that avenue because of this particular approach with everything being adlibbed. I don't know how the story will be developed, how it's going to end up, or what the ending's going to be. If you go to a mainstream publisher, by their general approach, they have to know what the characters are, who they are, what the story's going to be, and how the story's going to develop so they know if there's going to be a serial, continuing storyline. They need to know how it's going to go”. Even though plans can be renewed and renegotiated, Miura still needed to make solid advanced plans and decisions and respect deadlines and page quotas. Even without considering this, the world building of Berserk seems too intentional and coherent to me to think that he didn’t really know how the story would go. Granted he created a reality that could be changed and bent by the human imagination and psyche, from the inside. This happened to be a brilliant choice for a long project like the Berserk manga.

I once read a review that pointed out the weakness of the later arcs and episodes, making the hypothesis that Miura was influenced by the success of stories like One Piece and Pirates of the Caribbean. I can’t really say that I share this opinion, either. Reviews like these make me smile, because they reveal how people missed a very big clue that Miura never really hid. Berserk was inspired by the story of Peter Pan as told by J.M. Barrie and reinterpreted in several different ways, not only visually. He went as far as dedicating to it the Lost Children chapters, immediately after the Eclipse, when the tension of the story was higher than it ever had been. We should read the Lost Children as an homage to the story of Peter Pan and Wendy that plays into the already disquieting themes of the original in darker tones and with much more horrifying elements; but we should also pay great attention to the Lost Children chapters as an important recontextualization of the events of the Golden Age arc. While I want to dedicate proper analysis and attention to this, I am going to add here that in Peter Pan we already had the pirates, the islands with hidden caves and the mermaids. The journey to Skellig island and Elfhelm had to be long enough for Moonlight Boy to make an appearance at least twice before the big reveal of his full identity the third time, and since he can only appear on nights of a full moon, Miura had to make the readers feel that time had passed. But Guts had always belonged in Neverland.

In my rudimentary outline of various elements that contributed greatly in building the world and story of Berserk, I actually ran out of space. And I want to properly address the various points and develop them more. For the moment I just really wanted to show that Miura had a very strong grip over the story and that he was really attentive to nuances. I said to myself, if I want to criticize the writing in Berserk at least I have to make sure I understand it to a sufficient extent.

Also I really wanted to at least give an idea of how important a role Shōjo manga had to Berserk. I hope to be able to fully explore this element soon.

#berserk #berserk meta #kentaro miura #manga analysis #guts berserk #griffith #casca #all the tags because I worked hard on that outline lol #another little bit of groundwork to give context #lost in translation #berserk themes #berserk as a Shōjo manga #eri reads berserk

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reunionatdawn · 3 months

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My Analysis of the Best Paired Endings in 3H (Part 16: Mercedes/Dedue)

Mercedes: If I were someone else, perhaps a commoner without a Crest or stature, maybe things would be different. It's a bit sad, but…this is the way things have to be. After all, only the goddess can decide our fates.

Each character in the Blue Lions was a victim of Faerghus's patriarchal culture. Mercedes was adopted for the purpose of being married off for her Crest. The Crest of Lamine is associated with the arcana of Judgement. It represents an important decision that needs to be made regarding love and romance. It also symbolizes a solution to a protracted problem, and a feeling of freedom.

Mercedes was separated from her brother at a young age and had to make a new life for herself in the Kingdom. What got her through those hard times was the support of the church. That's why her dream was to work there to help people, just as they did for her. But doing so would be difficult if she married a nobleman.

Mercedes: Though, just because two people share a promise, that doesn't guarantee they'll be together forever. You've noticed many nobles at the academy, right? They very rarely have the freedom to choose their own partners.

Mercedes had a lot in common with Ingrid. She did not want to give up on her dream to be used as a broodmare for her Crest, like her mother was. However, she felt like she had no choice.

Byleth: You can't just give up on your dreams. Mercedes: That's a very good point! We're only given one life, so we must do all we can to pursue our happiness! OK! I think that may have been just the push I was looking for! I'll tell him the truth. That I've found a life worth pursuing and I must decline the proposal! Maybe I should tell him I've fallen for someone else?

Mercedes had difficulty standing up to her adoptive father. She was willing to lie to him by telling him that she had fallen for someone else. That might explain many of her pairing options.

Ferdinand: You baffle me. Do you not wish to be free? Mercedes: Of course I do. Let me try that again in a way you might understand. Ahem. A true noble cuts their own path, seizing freedom from the clutches of tyranny!

I suspect that the reason she rejected Ferdinand's help to sever ties with her adoptive father was because she wasn't sure if his gesture was an attempt to woo her. She wasn't sure if she would have the will to decline if he proposed. In their paired ending, she severs ties with her adoptive father and marries him immediately after the war. She lives the traditional life of a noble wife while her husband is recognized for his achievements.

Mercedes: I don't care to flaunt my noble past or my Crest. I have no desire to return to that status. Lorenz: Then, if I may speak hypothetically a moment… Does that mean that if a nobleman were to offer you his hand in marriage, you would decline? Mercedes: Not at all. That's a separate matter entirely. Even if I were to fall in love, regardless of their social status… I'm not looking to marry right now.

Even by the end of their A-Support, she still didn't seem to like Lorenz very much. She was unusually sarcastic with him. And she specifically said she wasn't ready to marry even if she was in love. But it is still possible that she will marry Lorenz immediately after the war. It shows how difficult it was for her to deviate from her path.

Mercedes: …No, I'm glad. I feel like I saw your true face for the first time. …Hey, Sylvain. Would you be able to save me from the curse of my Crest? Sylvain: I…I'll save you! With my heart and soul! I love you! Great! Let's get married!

Mercedes also had a lot in common with Sylvain, and the two actually became close friends. They are both Gemini, the zodiac sign which is thought to be two-faced because of their natural duality.

Mercedes: Don't be ashamed of crying. I'm here to protect you. Will you protect me in return? Sylvain: I will. I promise. You know, Mercedes, you really are a special lady.

Because Mercedes was able to empathize with his pain, he let the mask slip with her, and she saw his other face. Because of that, she was also the only character to see him cry. She wanted him to save her from her arranged marriage, and she had a genuine desire to save him from that fate, too. So, she is one of the very few women Sylvain is able to marry and have a paired ending with.

Mercedes: You're much the same, yes? People like us have to try to bloom as best we can. Sylvain: Never really thought of myself as a flower, but I get what you're saying. Flowers are stuck in the same spot for life, whether they like it or not. And if they happen to sprout in a bad area, they're out of luck. But we have legs, not roots. We can go wherever we want.

But Hopes does a good job of showing why that's not the ideal solution to their problems. Even if she did marry him, she would prefer to be doing charity work rather than living the life of a nobleman's wife. Sylvain was fine with that, but Mercedes did not want to stand in the way of him marrying the person he truly loved.

Sylvain: To be perfectly clear, I'm not making advances on your or anything. But I'm the heir of House Gautier. If I ask you, this other guy will have no choice but to bow out. Though I doubt he'd be happy about it. After that, you can do whatever you want. Go work at a church or ladle out soup or whatever makes you happy. I won't stop you. Mercedes: But that would prevent you from marrying the person you love.

She didn't realize that Sylvain didn't want to get married in the first place. He would be marrying her because she offered him a loophole to his own predicament. With her as his wife, he could fulfill his noble obligation, but still be able to live freely. They cared for each other and shared mutual respect, but neither of them seemed like they would have considered marrying the other without their fathers pushing them into an arranged marriage.

Mercedes: And before that, when I lived with my mother and my little brother. It also reminds me of the time I spent studying with friends at the school of sorcery in the capital. Things may not have been easy then, but I would give anything to return to those days.

The tagline for the game was, "Sweet memories twisted by time's cruel hand". The best option for Mercedes might seem like recruiting her into Crimson Flower and reuniting her with her brother.

Mercedes & Jeritza Once those who slither in the dark were finally defeated, Mercedes left home and opened a small orphanage in the Faerghus region with her mother. After many years of kind service raising children who had lost their families, she received a letter bearing familiar handwriting. Its author, a prisoner in Enbarr, expressed his sincerest well-wishes to Mercedes and her family. Still more time passed until, one day, the man who wrote the letter paid her a visit. With joyful tears in her eyes, Mercedes smiled, took Emile by the hand, and at last welcomed him home.

And their ending is certainly touching. I was never really a big fan of it, though, because Jeritza's condition is resolved without any explanation. In Mercedes' paralogue, the Death Knight said his soul had long departed. He was not fully in control of himself, which is why he continued to fight on the opposite side from his sister. Before this DLC update, it had been implied that Emile had probably been experimented on like the Remire villagers. He was barely human anymore and it was impossible for him to return to normal.

Mercedes: It's sad, but the truth is that people forget. You may be afraid to forget your past, but you'll never be able to revisit it. Living in the present is the best we can do. We owe it to those who can't come back. Dimitri: If someone had said those words to me five years ago, I would be a different man today.

As sad as it is, Mercedes had a stronger character arc in AM where she had to accept that she's unable to return to the past.

Annette: You know, I've always loved you more than anything in the world! Mercedes: My, is that…a confession of love? Hehe, I'm so happy~. Annette: Uh, um, I wanted to say I love the sweets you bake more than anything in the world! Mercedes: Oh, is that so... Well, I love you, Annie.

Other than Emile, Annette was the most important person to Mercedes. In their A-Support they both confessed their love for each other. While it did seem like the bisexual Mercedes may have loved her beyond friendship (particularly in the Japanese), Annette seemed insistent on emphasizing her platonic love.

Annette & Mercedes After the war, Annette and Mercedes lived separate lives: the former as a teacher at the school of sorcery in Fhirdiad, the latter as a cleric at Garreg Mach. Though they lived apart, they exchanged letters so frequently and shared their lives with one another in such detail that it was as though they were side by side. After many decades, they resigned their respective positions and reunited at Garreg Mach. In their final years, they relocated to a modest house in the Fortress City. It is said that they were happy together to the very end.

They will not be life partners even if you go for their paired ending. While they do keep in touch, they'll live completely separate lives until retirement age. It's a slightly bittersweet ending, showing how, as we get older and pursue different life paths, things don't always stay the same. I don't consider it to be the most satisfying ending for either of them. Still, the fact that Mercedes will move away from her best friend shows how important it was to her to pursue her dream.

Mercedes: I just don't want to let go of the life that I've made for myself. I know it's not what my heart wants, but I don't have the strength to say no.

After Garreg Mach fell, Mercedes returned home to the Kingdom capital and joined the merchant business. She told Byleth that she didn't want to give up the life she made for herself in Fhirdiad.

Annette: Since our time in the capital, so much has happened. We've had to make new lives for ourselves, and we've seen at least as many hard times as good. If things keep changing like this, I wonder if we'll be able to stay the same people we are now…

And Annette also didn't want things between them to change by starting completely new lives again, which is what happens in their paired ending.

Dimitri: My own dreams… I have never given it any thought. What about you? What do you want, Mercedes? Mercedes: I want to keep sewing and training with you, even after you've become king. I want to be your friend.

Mercedes even wanted to stay friends with Dimitri after the war, which would only be possible if she kept her old life in the capital.

Mercedes: I'm going to Fhirdiad to meet with my adoptive father, and I'd like you to accompany me. Byleth: What for? Mercedes: I feel the need to set things straight with him in my own way. I've already decided exactly what I'm going to say. I'm choosing to live my life how I want, in pursuit of my own happiness. I need you to accept that. I'm in charge of my own destiny. Not you, not anyone else. Just me. Ah… I've waited so long to say all that.

The best thing for her would be to sever ties with her adoptive father, without the excuse of already having a fiancé. She always left her fate in the hands of the goddess or people above her. But her character arc was about acting of her own free will.

Dimitri: Do you remember the child who cursed me after my father's funeral? Dedue: Ah, yes. I believe he was the son of a knight who fell in Duscur. Dimitri: He was furious that I would not take revenge on your people, and even more enraged to see you serving as my vassal. He berated me without mercy, demanding I kill you then and there. All I could do was walk away. Everyone desires revenge for that day. Survivors and the dead alike cry out for retribution.

Dimitri was also a victim of Faerghus's violent patriarchal culture. He was expected to carry out vengeance for the Tragedy of Duscur. His violent urges were encouraged and rewarded by the society he grew up in. At times, he was chilled to the bone by the depravity of his own actions, such as suppressing a rebellion.

Dedue: When I stood before those soldiers and their swords that day, I was prepared to die. But then you suddenly appeared, and you shielded me. I knew then that a savior's hand could reach into even the deepest darkness.

Dedue was the biggest victim of Farghus's retaliatory violence. His moniker is "Taciturn Devotee". A devotee is a person who strongly admires a particular person. But it can also mean a strong believer in a particular religion or god. It probably would not be an exaggeration to state that Dedue saw Dimitri as the Fódlan goddess.

Dedue: And I would cast it aside in an instant if my death were to your benefit. For that reason, I cannot consider myself your friend. There are still many in the Kingdom who despise the people of Duscur. It would be selfish of me to stand by your side as an equal.

Many people interpreted his feelings for Dimitri as having a romantic aspect to them. I certainly wouldn't reject that interpretation. After all, by reaching out his hand, Dimitri served the same role that Byleth did for him.

Dedue: You promised me you would build a Kingdom that is proud to boast of Duscur blood. In this Kingdom, where there is no distinction between the people of Duscur and the people of Fódlan… Will I finally, without reservation, be able to call you my friend? Will I…Dimitri? Dimitri: Dedue… Yes, you will call me your friend, again and again. No matter how many hardships I must endure… Dedue: I will do all I can to bring about that world as well. To be your friend…is what I have always wanted.

During their A-Support, we learned that Dimitri made a promise to Dedue before they attended the Officer's Academy.

Dimitri & Dedue After his coronation, Dimitri assumed the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and his loyal vassal, Dedue, remained ever at his side. Among Dimitri's achievements was the reconciliation with Duscur: an extraordinary effort that required extensive negotiations to get past a history of betrayal and oppression. It was a trying task, but Dimitri never once considered giving up. While they behaved as lord and vassal in public, it is said that Dimitri and Dedue were more like family in private. When Dimitri finally fell to illness, Dedue tended to his liege's deathbed, and then took up a post at his grave for the rest of his days. When the time came, they were buried beside each other.

Their paired ending emphasizes Dimitri's efforts reconciling with Duscur and how he never gave up. But it does not specify whether the Duscur people were able to proudly live alongside people from Fódlan without distinction. In fact, because Dedue had to behave as a vassal in public, it implies that there was still hostility between Duscur and the Kingdom for the majority of Dimitri's reign. Dedue only gets to stand by Dimitri's side as an equal in death.

Also, there was no mention of Dedue's efforts bringing about the world he wanted to see. It only mentions him serving Dimitri for his entire life as a subordinate, then guarding his grave for the rest of his days. It is not that different from his solo ending, and I don't think it's a particularly satisfying ending for Dedue.

Dedue: I would regretfully decline. I cannot know happiness without you by my side. I would still seek vengeance. Just… for my own sake, not yours. Dimitri: Interesting. And nothing I say to the contrary will change your mind? Dedue: Your Majesty, can you not live for your own sake? Dimitri: My life is not my own. It belongs to my kingdom, my people, and the dead.

Neither Dimitri or Dedue knew how to live for themselves, and neither could live without the other.

Dedue: I…can still fight, Your Highness. Dimitri: Shut up and retreat. You must live, Dedue.

During his boar phase, Dimitri was willing to mow down any of his old classmates, even if they were not his enemies. And he was willing to send all of his friends and allies to their deaths, too. The single exception was Dedue. He is the only person Dimitri tells to retreat at Gronder Field. And Dedue will live only to seek vengeance.

Dedue: Ngh… I'm not finished yet! Dimitri: Fall back, Dedue! Please! I cannot afford to lose you!

In Scarlet Blaze, Dimitri also begs him to retreat in the Valley of Torment. Dedue would have gladly fought to the death, but Dimitri personally made sure he didn't. It was because he cherished Dedue so much that he wanted him to live for his own happiness.

Dedue: Someday, I hope to show you a whole landscape of these flowers in full bloom. Byleth: You mean Duscur? Dedue: Yes. Once this conflict is over, and His Highness ascends the throne, I believe it can be done. You must live at least until then. Understood? Byleth: Same to you. Dedue: That's true enough. I had not thought much of my own life, until now. Except that I would gladly cast it aside for His Highness. That is still true, but now I desire to see the end of this war. Until I can show you the fields of Duscur in bloom… I will go on living.

Other than Dimitri, the only other thing that gave Dedue a reason to live was showing Byleth the flowers of Duscur in bloom.

Dedue: When I left the capital, I told His Majesty that I would be leaving his service. Byleth: What?! Dedue: He accepted my decision with a smile.

If you go for Dedue's paired ending with Byleth, you learn that if Dedue were to leave Dimitri's service, he would accept with a smile. And I think Dedue has a better character arc if he is able to grow past his codependence on Dimitri and find his own reason to live.

Dedue: To Duscur? There is nothing of interest left there. Mercedes: Isn't it where you were born? And isn't it where your wonderful food and stories come from? I think those are reason enough to visit at least once! Dedue: Mercedes… If you will allow it, I would like to accompany you. His Highness would surely grant me leave to go.

When Mercedes asked Dedue what his plans were after the war, he said it was to serve Dimitri for the rest of his days. And in most of his endings, that's exactly what he does, even if he's married. Going with her to Duscur and praying to the gods (and goddesses) of his own culture changed his entire fate. That's probably why his ending with Mercedes is so different compared to all of his others.

Mercedes: I think a place is only truly destroyed when there's no one left to remember it. You should tell more people about Duscur to keep it alive.

The whole relationship between Mercedes and Dedue revolved around the idea that they could keep their loved ones alive through their memories. He taught her many things about his culture, and she taught him a family recipe that would have otherwise been forgotten.

Dedue: I understand how you feel. I had a younger sister. Sylvain: Had? Oh. Tell me about her. What was she like? Dedue: Hm. She loved flowers, and often made crowns out of them. And once she set her mind to something, nothing in the world could change it.

I really loved their Support in Hopes. It felt exactly like a post-Houses version of their relationship after they had travelled to Duscur and fallen in love. There are rarely any times where Dedue seems happier than when teaching her and the kids to make flower crowns, in memory of his sister. They seem like a married teacher couple, too.

Dedue & Mercedes Two years after the war, Dedue and his wife, Mercedes, opened a school in the Duscur residential district in Fhirdiad. The school educated Duscur children, who had never been given structured learning before, in reading, writing, arithmetic, and even Duscur history. Many years later, when the Duscur people reclaimed their homeland, the people who attended this school were able to resettle there and revive their old culture. Because of this, Dedue and Mercedes were forever renowned by the Duscur.

This is the only ending where Dimitri's promise to Dedue is actually fulfilled, as it mentions the Duscur people having their own district in Fhirdiad. And it just so happens that this is the only paired ending (besides the one with Byleth) where Dedue isn't described as a vassal. He is still living in the capital, so we can assume that he and Dimitri are close friends. But they live as equals. Dedue has his own life now and his own achievements are renowned.

In Hopes, Mercedes said she wanted to go back to Fhirdiad, but not live with her adoptive father. This is the only ending (other than with Dimitri) where she can live her dream, help those in need, and stay in Fhirdiad with her other friends. With Dedue, they get married two years after the war. So, she clearly didn't marry him just to escape her arranged marriage. Dedue and Mercedes bonded over their sense of loss, but they used that pain to keep Duscur alive, so I think it's the absolute best conclusion to their character arcs.

#fe3h #fe3h meta #dedue molinaro #mercedes von martritz #mercedue

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tpotr · 1 month

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Hello my author, I came to leave a message to remind you when I have time and of course make a one-shot of your characters from your fanfic with all of Rhaenyra's children, all born girls HAHAHA I feel sorry for our boy, having to deal with his sisters and the strong girls!!!

I ended up finishing this right before a plane ride, thankfully! Thank you dear for always being so supportive <3 This is a little plus for all the readers. This is an AU tweak where not only the green children are genderbent, but also Rhaenyra's children. Meaning M!Hel (Rhaegal) is the only boy. You know the green girls names if you are here, so for Rhaenyra's children: F!Jace - still Jace as nickname, Jacaera F!Luke - Liliana (after another Velaryon girl) F!Joffrey - Josephine (not mentioned here tho) F!Aegon 3 - Alyssa F!Viserys 2 - Viserra

Aerea sits disinterested on the high table, sipping on her Arbor red. It is a holy day, and the Red Keep has turned into an odd mix of a tavern and a sept. The frigid brick of a High Septon is sitting by her uncle Daemon, still as if he’s about to piss himself. Aerea has the inclination to cringe at that, but actually does when she notices the poor singers who had been utterly ignored as they sang their hymns. It is the Feast Day of our Father Above, a day for tables of roasts and toasts, as well as a day to lay judgement, for the Father watches over and makes one’s judgement auspicious.

It can be argued that the most auspicious judgement of the day had been by the seating planners. While their father is sitting between their mother and half-sister on the elder side of the table, Rhaegal sits parallel to him, a human divider between her and Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter, Jaecaera. Effectively, he split the table between silver-haired sisters and brown-haired nieces.

The seating choices had been deliberate. ‘The girls do not get along, therefore we must stick the boy in the middle.’

She does not find this decision astute, to say the least.

Aerea used to get along with her eldest niece, back when she looked like a little boy. She even gave her the nickname Jace. However, then she grew to own the same audacity and unfailing entitlement her mother is known for, learning how to speak well without knowing how to apologize. The girl used to be a cute, pugly thing; now she just knows how to bark and worse, be charmingly coy.

Aerea will admit, she does not take it well when her husband has to play peacemaker. He’s an approachable sort of man, whose looks are graceful enough to be inviting and is of gentle enough character to be mannerly. Meaning, he is susceptible to being taken advantage of by girls who are bold enough, and very easily used by girls who want to annoy her.

“When I passed by the gardens, I remembered how we used to play hide and seek,” Jace reminisces fondly. Aerea brings her hand over her husband’s. Lest he thinks I’m not attentive, she thinks to herself. He glances at her nervously, squeezing her fingers between his for some assurance. Jace looks at her sister, chuckling. “Well, Liliana’s sobs came to mind first, really. When she couldn’t find us on that tree, if you recall.”

“Can you let that go?” Liliana exclaims, and for once, Aerea agrees with that twerp. As if it has any relevance now.

“Never,” Jace smiles, affectionately patting at the top of her sister’s head. “It is a shame we don’t have as much of a thriving garden in Dragonstone. It is barren, rocky land for the most part. I wanted to play similarly with Alyssa and Viserra. These are sweet memories to have.”

Aerea’s fingers move slowly over Rhaegal's fingers. She’d consider it an affectionate warning, but it seemed more a hostage situation.

Rhaegal swallows, offering a timid smile. “You can still play with them there during this visit,” he suggests.

Jace perks up. “I should, I suppose. Will you come? I think they’d enjoy your presence. You’ve always been good with children.”

Aerea’s finger squashes down on her husband's index. I’ll smash your pug nose flatter than it already is.

She moves herself to look beyond her husband and stare down her offending niece. “We will come. Our twins need more companions to play with. You’d think Maelor would be enough, but they still ask for more siblings.”

She expects it to shut Jace up, but the girl's chocolate brown eyes crinkle. “That would certainly do,” half a dimple comes upon her face as grins at Aerea. She represses any giggles, and pats Rhaegal’s shoulder. “Seems like you have some work cut out for you, though.”

What does that mean—

She very nearly stood up. She would’ve, hadn’t it been for Rhaegal promptly grabbing on her hand and squeezing on it as if to contain her. His face is entirely flushed red, and that frustrates her too, until he lifts himself from his seat and dragged her alongside him. “We should dance,” he says abruptly, whisking her away. He doesn’t wait for any confirmation, taking her towards the dance floor.

Jace watches them as they leave the table, full grin on. “And I after!” she announces with roaring laughter.

Aerea would have gone back to chew her out if it hadn’t been for the fact Rhaegal already turned to glare at their niece. Clearly flustered, but deliberately glaring. She finds him handsome when he glares. She supposes it is the conviction that appears in a usually carefree gaze. She similarly does not resent the grip of steel he has on her, but that better not be because he must separate her from Jace.

“She flusters you?” Aerea accuses, not asks. Her hand reaches for his shoulder, as the dance’s form calls for, but her nails dig deep at the shirt and skin. She doesn’t care if it makes her easily irritable, the next she sees a strong hand on his shoulder she’d cut it off. If they can take eyes, why couldn’t she take hands? That brazen bitch deserves it.

Rhaegal gathers her close to him. His hands are supposed to go on her waist, but they sit lower than the small of her back. It is a pleasing enough feeling, and she feels a surge of heat rushing through her— No. Focus. She must keep the frown. He needs to answer!

“No,” he says, and he sounds awfully riled as he says so. “It is only that she inserts herself to where she shouldn’t.”

Aerea grabs at his nape to look at her. “You think me blind to not see that? I had the entire day to see. Oh, I know she dreams of insertions, that—”

His grip on her becomes more forceful in a split second. It makes her take a deep inhale within. “Hardly,” he says, and cranes his head closer to her ears. “She thinks it amusing, to make you frustrated. Just as she thinks she helps me by making you frustrated.”

“You don’t—” Aerea starts, but then takes a moment to digest that statement. She feels her ears grow hot, embarrassment and anger smoking at each flushed lobe. For a moment she feels stupid, and then she feels rage. That girl played her like a fiddle? On purpose? She hates that. More than anything. “I’m not jealous,” she says, trying to ignore the waves of envy that ran through her before and now.

It is just no funny thought to her, having him tempted by Jace. Those bastard girls could do anything and be acquitted from any fault by their mother. As if she doesn’t hear Father talk of how easier it would’ve been had her husband just married her instead. It started with Rhaenyra and continued with Jace and gods be good even if the lot of them die she may just hear the same with baby Viserra.

She knows she had been stupid at times, but she gave him three children and all the love she has left to give. She hates, loathes, abhors how easily they make her feel replaceable.

Rhaegal puts his forehead against hers. “You needn’t be,” he soothes, as he knows to do. He knows she yearns that quelling, and that makes her scared by itself. She has made so many mistakes, but he holds her heart tender. He nuzzles against her and it is all reassurance, until she opens her eyes and meets his gaze.“But I’d like the flush on your face to be all for me, as well.”

She considers stomping his foot, if only for the mere suggestion that any redness could come to her cheeks if it wasn’t for him. Jace couldn’t have embarrassed her for years to come if she hadn’t used him. If it wasn’t for him, she would’ve found a reason to smash Jace’s face into her plate of cake and she would’ve been as pale as the moon doing it.

“As if it could be for anyone else,” she says quietly, and licks her lips. She knows this isn’t quite how he likes that phrased. Between her cynical and his lyrical their words never match unless they make the effort to make them as such, and it is an effort worth making. “I love you.”

He is not one to reach out to her when they are among the masses. His intimacy is a separate section of him, belonging fully to her when they share a lone room. A secret only she knows.

Regardless, he kisses her this time, full on the lips.

He knows how she likes his love expressed, too.

Aerea sighs as the kiss breaks off. She expects bulging eyes at the two of them. To imagine the prince will disrupt an entire dance routine only to kiss his wife; an event worth the stares for once, if you ask her. She hopes Jace had looked and blushed at a site that required none of her incitement.

And yet, the choice to kiss her has not seemed to have compromised their secret at all. The eyes of their guests are all on the high table, where seemingly, a yelling match between Aemma and Jace is taking place. Or more like, Jace is barking, and Aemma is smirking.

Hah! She should’ve known Aemma wouldn’t have let her get away with things. Sometimes little sisters are good to have.

Aerea almost steps in to come aid her, but Rhaegal holds her arm.“Don’t,” he whispers to her ear, and she blinks at him. Mother and Rhaenyra stand to calm the yelling girls, and he continues, his hand sliding down to hers. “They will be alright. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

He weaves his fingers in hers. “Before everyone can notice.”

Aerea smiles widely. A day for fine judgement indeed; her husband has his wits about him. She squeezes on his hand, dragging him with her instead of slipping away any sort of gracefully. His pearly whites show as he stifles a laugh.

The lords and ladies, and all their family can look as they rush away together. Because his very smile is mine.

#hotd fanfic #i'm not going to even tag it the normal tags this feels too indulgent LOL #*rhaegal #*aerea #*aereagal #*aemma #*reqs #*answered

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