#that's her daughter but it's also her best friend.
Text
Provocative
Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader
Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.
Warnings: Swearing
a/n: I know it's been a long time, but I just couldn't get myself to write anything because of my finals coming up and everything else going on. I also didn't want to write a bad third part, so I only wanted to write when I had some motivation to do so. I hope you all will like it. Part 1 / Part 2
If you had known that one day you would see Mimzy again, you would have been the most holy person in your mortal days, and unfortunately, you weren't.
And as soon as everyone in the hotel registered the short woman's appearance, Lucifer dropped his grip on your hand, looking almost fearfully at your expression, which probably said more than a thousand words.
"Why is everybody gawking? Is it cuz I'm adorable?" The woman playfully said while posing as you gritted your teeth.
And not even a second later, Alastor immediately stopped holding your hand, "Mimzy!" The happiness was more than obvious in his tone.
"Alastor, sweetie, doll face!" In your mind you were already imagining how you could break every bone in her body. "How have you been? Good? Good," she said as she put her arms around your husband.
They even squeezed each other as they made contented sounds. "You good?" Lucifer whispered in your ear as you could almost feel your eye twitch.
"Splendid," you murmured back as the Ruler of Hell continued to look at you uncertainly, but your eyes never left the pair.
"I heard you were staying at this ritzy slob factory and I figured I'd stop by, say hi! For old times sake" you hated the way she talked about Charlie's hotel as the blonde walked even closer to Alastor, if that was even possible.
"Of course, Sweetheart! Everyone is welcome here" the enthusiasm still didn't leave your husband's voice as you balled your fists tightly.
"'Everyone is welcome' my ass," Lucifer muttered hatefully, squinting his eyes at the man dressed in red.
When Charlie asked how they knew each other, you tried to hold back as best you could, you knew what was coming.
And the moment Mimzy heard the question, an even bigger smile appeared on her face "Oh yeah. We go way back."
A little too far back, you thought.
"You know, this one used to frequent the club where I used to perform. He's the only one I knew who could pound whiskey like a sailor and then keep up with me on the dance floor," her theatrics continued as she did a little dance and received a compliment from Alastor.
"Ho ho, you should have seen her in her heyday," oh, how you wished you hadn't seen her then.
You remembered everything perfectly. Mimzy and Alastor knew each other before you married him, and you met her through him.
Alastor was always a huge fan of music, especially the music that was played at the club where Mimzy used to work. And one day he had had taken you out on a date. Of course you were excited at first, you had never been to that club before, you were expecting something spectacular since your husband was always talking about it.
And oh, how spectacular it was, Mimzy practically throwing herself at your husband like it was nothing. Now, you really weren't a jealous person, but the short woman brought out the worst in you.
At first you really tried to like her, but with every backhanded compliment, you began to truly despise her more and more.
It was obvious that she had a crush on Alastor, and that crush probably never really went away, or she just wanted to get you mad by sticking to him like glue.
"Oh, oh, my stars," she made her way to Lucifer as soon as she saw him, and you immediately made your way to Alastor while she was distracted.
"You never told me she was here," you said in a snippy tone as you approached him until you and him were face to face, just with you having to look up due to his height.
"My sweet, of course Mimzy would be in hell," he only said as he looked at the chubby woman who was currently engrossed in a conversation Lucifer had no interest in.
Before you could snap at him, the annoying voice was heard once more, "No way!" Mimzy shouted loudly as she made her way towards you, deliberately swaying her hips.
And before you could prepare, the short woman hugged you tightly as she stood on her tiptoes to lean closer to you, "Still the jealous little wench, I see," she snickered as you bit your tongue.
"Ah, just like old days," Alastor's smile still remained on his face as he looked at the two of you, obviously not having heard what his friend had just said to you.
I'll show you the old days, you thought when Mimzy finally let go of you. And then you all remembered that the tour of the hotel had to continue.
"Why don't you let the others help you settle in and I'll be back before you know it," your husband said to Mimzy as he took your hand and led you to Charlie and her dad.
"Behave," Alastor whispered in your ear as his static returned and you could only scoff.
"I'm the one who should behave?! Look at you!" You whispered back, even digging your nails into the hand that was currently holding yours.
And while the tension between the two of you didn't go away, Mimzy already started talking to the others at the bar.
"How ya been, fur-ball?" She asked as she leaned her elbows against the bar, holding her face up with her hands.
"Good until five minutes ago" Husk wasn't happy about the whole situation, just like you, and it was obvious, and clearly ignoring his mood, she turned around to ask what Niffty has been up to.
"I never understood why you liked her so much," you said, keeping the frown on your face as Alastor let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist while Lucifer glared at him as Charlie showed him around.
"Jealous, aren't you?" He asked with his piercing smile, having already expected this reaction from you.
"She's the last person I would be jealous of," you snapped back, but in reality you knew she was everything you were ever jealous of.
Not only was she popular, but she was beautiful and confident. All the things you couldn't see for yourself.
Suddenly, Alastor laughed, even softly, I might add, as his hand rubbed your hip, "As it should be, you have nothing to be jealous of, love," your eyes widened.
He has never called you "love" before, unless it was to get attention or to make your marriage more believable decades ago.
"Uh-huh... Thanks, pussy cat!" Mimzy said as she drank from the glass.
"Oh, fuck you" was the only thing Husk replied with as he walked away while Angel Dust made his way to the bar.
"So uh, you and Alastor are like what? Friends?"
A grin made its way across her face, "Well, that's your word, not mine, but I think it fits," Angel Dust didn't seem too convinced as he sipped from his glass, which didn't seem to make Mimzy too happy.
"Why so surprised?" She grunted as Angel Dust responded with "Well, just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery. I really don't know how his his wife handles him. What even is his deal?"
At the mention of you, her face fell for a split second, but she regained her composure as she began to tell them about when Alastor revealed himself as the Radio Demon.
"But underneath is all... he's a total sweetie. Put on some jazz and pour a couple fingers of rye, and he becomes a kitten!"
Sir Pentious and Angel Dust looked at her in shock, since that part didn't sound like the Overlord they knew.
And once the tour was over and they made their way back to the bar.
"There you all are! I was starting to get real bored here," Mimzy's voice was slowly starting to make you mad once more.
"Finally," Husk grunted as he wiped the glass in his hands clean while Mimzy continued to talk.
"I bet she was the reason it took so long," obviously referring to you as she glared, "Nothing's been the same since the marriage," the short woman ranted, while you rolled your eyes at her as you suddenly felt Alastor's hand graze your back.
Looking up at him, his eyes were a fraction softer for once, as you couldn't look away.
"Since the marriage?" Lucifer asked, clearly confused as to what was being discussed.
"Their marriage, of course," Mimzy said with disgust in her voice as she nodded towards you and Alastor.
"You're married?!" Lucifer yelled as you flinched at the sudden loudness, while Alastor rubbed your arm in reassurance.
Fuck... you thought.
Taglist
@l0ca1ax010t1
@itsmskeisha
@nightlydream
@randomuser-89
@explosionkatsu
@nonetheartist
@anuttellaa
@angelxx7
@karolinda007-blog
@fairyv-ice
@chewbrry
@cryptidghostgirl
@harmfulb1tch
@crowleysthings
@fandomfan-102
@readergirlstuff
@wendds
@lucifers-silhouette
@droopingdatura
#alastor fluff#alastor x you#alastor imagine#alastor fanfiction#alastor x reader#alastor#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor x y/n#hazbin hotel x y/n
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Daddy’s Girl
summary: this is actually a part two of Sweet, Domestic Life. i’m glad y’all thought it was cute bc i love joel having a happy life and being a family man (but tbf idk if i like this or not) also i’ve been reading writing tips and whatnot and even had a friend go over this for me (she helped so much) !! i hope you can notice a (good) difference shskdhakal
warnings: your child is a menace (affectionate), f!reader, reader is referred to as mama, the daughter is nicknamed ‘Bug’, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth, i also don’t know how to properly write toddlers lol
w.c.: 1k
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A soft, content sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the bed, crossing your legs as you neatly folded laundry and separated each article of clothing into its own pile. Joel was not as contented; he chased your little girl up and down the hall, her high-pitched squealing bouncing off the walls as she scuttled away, and he followed in hot pursuit with heavy feet that thundered after her with every laugh and giggle.
You heard Joel ask with an accusing tone, "What do you have in your hand?" Your ears perked up, and as soon as you lifted your head, you saw your three-year-old come barreling in. With a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on her face, making her cheeks appear rounder, she held her closed fist out in front of her.
"Mama!" She hollered and rushed to the edge of the bed, her free hand gripping and fisting at the bed sheets as she clambered up the mattress and placed a tiny foot against the frame of the bed to hoist herself up, trying her best to reach you.
"Bug!" You exclaimed with a dramatic widening of your eyes, dropping the shirt you held, and raising your arms slightly before grabbing her and settling her onto your lap. Joel joined next and propped an arm against the door frame as his chest heaved from the chase he had just endured. His brows bunched together, but a playful smile stretched his lips, clearly thrilled to be a part of the game.
"Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head and walked forward, "Mama can't help ya." Then he reached for the toddler once again.
Your eyes narrowed as you were about to argue but stopped short as Bug screeched in your ear. The sudden noise made you recoil with a wince. Your neck craned to the side, and you arched your brows while you blinked rapidly and waited for her to simmer down.
After a minute, you tilted your head to look down at her, "You done?" You ask softly and tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear.
Her head bobbled in response, "Yeah," she sucked in her lips and shifted in your lap, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt to balance herself.
You nod back and carefully remove her hand from the shirt, preventing her from possibly tugging the collar too low. "Okay," you whisper, then turning back to Joel. You resume your theatrical act, cradling your daughter's head to your shoulder protectively as you give him a mock pout.
"Not so fast, Miller," you say dramatically, "You bein' mean to my girl?"
The little girl had her hands tucked under her chin as she peeked at Joel with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Your husband noticed this, of course, and shot her a lighthearted glare.
"If anything, she's the mean one," he retaliated with a vague gesture of his hand and moved to lay down beside the two of you. "Makin' an old man with a bad back and bad knees run around like that." He added, followed by a soft exhale as he brought his hands to his stomach and clasped them together.
You snorted faintly and observed him with mild amusement as he got comfortable. You then avert your gaze to the fidgeting child in your lap. "I heard Daddy ask what you got in your hand," you tell her, tilting your head curiously. "Wanna show me what it is?"
Her nose scrunched as she bared her teeth in a goofy grin and brought her hands from under her chin, splaying them open to reveal-
"Nothing?" Your head reeled back with a laugh. Ah, of course. She was getting her father riled up for the sake of it, truly a chip off the old block.
Joel chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand from his torso to rub tiredly at his face.
"Glad I've got my girls ta keep me on my toes." He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he opened his eyes again and glanced between you. Your daughter wormed free from your hold and crawled onto Joel's lap, her little hands splayed across his chest as she gazed down at him.
" 'S'a joke, Daddy." She explained, her shoulders bobbing up and down with a happy lilt in her voice. "Bellie told me." Ah, that would explain it. Joel couldn't deny that Ellie's favorite pastime seemed to be finding ways to get under his skin, and now that had also expanded to his other daughter.
" 'Course she did," Joel replied, flicking his gaze to you, his expression mostly neutral with a faint look of amusement. You noticed your daughter's lip slightly parted with a soft yawn, and her eyes dropped ever so slightly, which signaled the two of you that she was starting to get sleepy.
"Yeah, bein' a li'l menace is tirin' ain't it, Bug?" Joel cooed playfully and touched her back, gently lowering her to lay against his chest.
You watched the interaction fondly and felt your heart flutter.
You couldn’t deny it; your daughter was a daddy's girl through and through, always seeking out the time she could spend with him, running to him with open arms when he came home after patrol, and always being under his feet, which he would always welcome with equal enthusiasm.
You finished folding the rest of the laundry and gathered each pile, placing them in their respective spots within the dresser. As you worked, you listened as Joel quietly sang, "Bye, Baby Buntin," his words slowly trailing off as he did. You turned back to see the pair fast asleep, the two embracing each other.
A warm feeling rushed through your body, and you silently padded over to the bed, reaching for the comforter folded at the end and throwing it open. You placed it over the pair and gently kissed each of their foreheads before turning off the lamp, then snuggled in next to them and closed your eyes, savoring this moment of peace and contentment.
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sorry it’s so short ahh !! i just wanted to write something real quickie. thank you for reading and comments/reblogs are always appreciated <33
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel miller tlou#tlou#joel miller x you#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel miller imagine#joel miller the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller/reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fic
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Mini Sydcarmy domestic headcanons : SFW
when they start getting closer as best friends (basically dating but without kissing bc they’re scared), Sydney starts biting his hands or his forearms and he just… lets her, making comments about her being a cannibal to see her pout and asking ‘what sides she wants to eat with his left arm’.
Sydney Thee Biter 👹🤭💞✨
In fact, he just starts offering her his arms whenever she looks antsy, she bites him once to sate her blood lust, and smiles at him.
Now Once they start 💞✨smooching✨💞 officially, she moves on to biting his cheek meat or his bicep; carmy’s body is nice and firm so it’s very pleasant to bite on. Good for chewing.
If they’re pillow talking, she’s biting his jaw. If they’re working in the office side by side, her teeth are in his shoulder. If they’re watching a movie together, Sydney is in his lap practically eating his face.
also Sydney smells like cocoa butter and her hair always smells like fruit somehow? (That’s that black girl magic) Carmy is obsessed.
Carm is also a chronic sniffer. If Sydney is a biter, Carmy is a sniffer; he’s smelling her hair and her pillow and he love using her body wash.
He will stick his nose in her hair and just inhale. “You’re a creep, Carm” he doesn’t care.
But He can’t use her shampoo anymore bc apparently her haircare is expensive and she popped his wrist when she caught him sneaking into it.
Sydney after catching Carmy using her Shea Moisture and Carol’s Daughter in the bathroom:
#sydcarmy#sydney adamu#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#the bear#the bear tv#headcanons#Drabble#otp ideas#carmy x sydney#syd x carmy#jeremy allen white#ayo edebiri#jayo#ayomy
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When writing both original fiction and fanfiction, it's my personal preference and style to remind people who characters are in the narration when I feel it might be needed. It's especially handy when bringing OCs into a fanfiction. Example: "The person calling out to them was [Character's Name Here], the baker they had met earlier that morning." This quirk of narration often reads to me as the POV character internally reminding themselves who someone is.
Sometimes, a character is quite bad with names or wasn't given one, which is where it's handy to refer to this other character by a fixed epithet. Example: "The person calling out to them was the square-faced man from yesterday, who had given them those bad directions." OR: "The person calling out to them was the mayor's daughter." This reads to me as though the POV character is distinguishing people by a particular feature or remembers them by their relationship to someone else, which is a common way to remember people, until their own name becomes more fixed in your mind.
I also think it's important to keep an epithet / title the same across a scene. Epithets are best used, in my opinion, when that particular feature or quality is actually relevant. It's a little weird for a POV character to suddenly think of their own husband as "the tall man" unless his height is suddenly important in some way, and it might confuse the audience into thinking another person is in the room. If a character doesn't have a name, then "the square-faced man" or "the mayor's daughter" effectively becomes their name, and it's confusing to have a character's name change too much with every other paragraph. (It would be fine to also refer to "the mayor's daughter" as "the girl" or "the young woman" as long as there aren't any other nameless girls speaking in the scene.) Keeping the same title allows it to blend in in the same way that the word "said" does, rather than break up the flow of a scene.
Not every person or character is bad with names and remembering people, of course, or is inclined to give them funny little internal titles. There are people who are very good at names. There are tricks to use to get yourself to memorize names as you're introduced to someone. Narrative styles are going to be different by author and by the current POV character. (Sometimes, you might want the audience to be confused and disoriented!)
In fact, thinking about how different characters think about each other is one of my favorite starting places for crafting a perspective voice. A single character might be referred to in the narration as "His Majesty" by one character, "my husband" by another character, "the king" by a third character, "the usurper" by a fourth character, and "Dad" by a fifth. The name that a character calls someone else by will often say a lot about their relationship and their opinion of that other person. If the prince appears to think of his father as "the king" rather than "Father", that implies something about their relationship.
But back to introducing character names, you as an author, in my experience as a writer and reader, generally can't rely on the audience to easily recall very minor character names unless they're very distinct or the character was introduced in a particularly memorable way. Like, if you introduce a character as the protagonist's best friend, Mary, and immediately start refering to her as Mary because it's followed by a conversation between the protagonist and Mary, that's fair! It's reasonable to expect the audience to just learn Mary's name here! But then if Mary disappears after Chapter 1 and doesn't show up again until Chapter 10, I think it's reasonable to subtly reintroduce her to the audience again. Example: "It was Mary smiling at me from the doorway, and I jumped up to hug my best friend immediately."
Like, there's no one way that you have to refer to characters and introduce them and reintroduce them, of course. Characters have different levels of importance and sometimes we don't really need to know who they are. Sometimes, an author wants an audience to feel grounded, to recognize people, and sometimes they want their audience to feel lost and scared. It's all situational. Style is a thing.
But because it's all situational, this is something I like thinking about and I think it's something worth studying when you're reading original fiction. It's interesting to pay attention to how characters enter and exit scenes in different forms of media, and how the narrator introduces them and how other characters greet them aloud. (Shakespeare comes to mind as a neat thing to look at, to see how theatre does it. Comic books and films and visual media will do it differently to a text-only story.) The audience doesn't have the background that you, the author, carry around in your head all of the time, and you often need to give them a helping hand in keeping your cast of characters straight. Even in fanfiction, without including OCs, not everyone in the audience has the whole canonical cast perfectively memorized, and not every character in any given cast actually knows every other character! It's not just OCs who need introductions, whether those introductions happen subtly or a character enters the story with a bang.
Kind of another side note:
One of my favorite character introductions comes from the book "The Princess Bride", in which Princess Buttercup is kidnapped by three men who are referred to only as "the Spaniard", "the Turk", and "the Sicilian". You don't know their names for quite some time. Buttercup doesn't know these people.
You only learn the Spaniard's name when the Sicilian leaves him at the top of a cliff, tasking him the Spaniard fighting and killing "the Man in Black" who is pursuing their kidnapping. When the Spaniard is about to fight someone to the death, the book pauses to tell you that his name is Inigo Montoya, and then there is an ENTIRE CHAPTER dedicated to Inigo Montoya's long and tragic backstory, in which you learn about his decades-long quest to find the six-fingered man who murdered his father. And then the book abruptly dumps you the audience back out onto that cliff, where Inigo (no longer just "the Spaniard" and no longer just some random kidnapping thug) is about to fight for his life.
I think it's a terribly fun piece of whiplash that suits the comedic style of the book really well. (The book is a little different to the movie and there are things about it that I don't like, the movie gets across a level of a sincerity and love through the acting that the book misses in places, but there are lots of really funny elements to the book that the movie sadly couldn't cover.) The transformation from "the Spaniard" into "Inigo Montoya" is really neat to me.
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Shrimpy Chronicles: Ama and the Sun
Octopolycue x Shrimpmer!Reader (Main: Azul x Reader)
Synposis:
"Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light.
And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her fathers and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin.
She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting.
Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun."
or
Your daughter notices that you yearn for the sun and the surface more than her other parents do, and learns why.
Takes place after "Mating Season", different timeline from "The Delights of being a 'Zuzu'". Neither are necessarily needed to understand the story, but are helpful for some context.
[wc} - 1,818
[cw/tags] - gn!reader, reader is referred to Ama but has they/them pronouns, mild angst, has a happy ending, in daughter's p.o.v., Jade and Floyd mentioned but not seen in story (implied poly!octotrio x reader), Azul is referred to Baba/Zuzu, reader comes from a happy family in their world, i also didn't edit lol
[notes] - I wanted to write something very simple for coming off my hiatus! I have a lot of strong thoughts about preserving something like my culture and language. I imagine that for a Yuu with a strong family bond, having to accept that they can't go home and lose not only their family, but their culture and language, is quite devestating. For people in our world that have to leave their homes to go somewhere else, sometimes they forget bits of that and want to make sure that their kids know and love where they come from out of desperation to maintain that connection. I wanted to write a little something about that, hope yall like it!
Written while listening to "Shelter" by Porter Robinson and Madeon, I recommend listening to it while reading :)
There was something about the warmth of the sun that Coral was drawn to. She wasn’t sure why, her sister, Pearl, didn’t have the same inclination, nor did her fathers. Her Baba Zuzu might’ve been an exception, but he also was perfectly fine to stay in the dark, cold depths of their home.
But Coral was like her Ama. They shared a lot of similar traits, like their shrimp merforms and the color of their skin. The strand along her bangs even matched the color of Ama’s hair, pretty stark against the rest of Coral’s teal hair. Though, her twin Pearl also had the same strand, just on her opposite side.
But still, Coral was Ama’s baby girl. Coral never said it to anyone other than Pearl, but Ama was her favorite parent. And Ama?
Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. Sometimes, when Ama thought no one was looking, they would gaze out the window and stare at the sunlight filtering through the water, making green and blue streaks glitter during the day.
And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her papas and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin.
Coral tried to copy them once. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting.
Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. But Coral could see the wet look in their eyes. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun.
Coral did her best to make sure they’d never be alone, always going with them to the surface. It was a bonus for Coral too, she got to see her Grandpa Divus and his doggies. Most of the time, though, it was her Goddads Ace and Deuce. They were okay too.
This time, her Ama and Zuzu were up on the surface to warm up a bit before diving back down after visiting Grandpa Divus. Though, Zuzu still stayed mostly in the water. He rested his arms and chin on the rock while Ama was laying on their back, arms spread and eyes closed as they basked in the sun.
Coral had taken to hanging on one of Zuzu’s tentacles picking at the skin with her shrimp legs, trying to mimic Ama when they were cleaning her Papa and Dada, though she was starting to fall asleep.
The warm sun always made her sleepy, and Zuzu’s scratching at her scalp wasn’t helping along with his tentacle rocking her back and forth. But the low voice of Zuzu speaking to Ama caught her attention.
“You’re going to dry out if you stay too long up here.” He was whispering, like he didn’t want to wake Coral up. So she kept her eyes closed and listened, her earfins wiggling a bit.
“Mmh.” Ama hummed in response. “It’s fine, just for a bit.”
“A bit has been for almost 30 minutes.” Zuzu sighed, harsher this time. “Please, my dear, come back in the water. Coral’s fallen asleep, we should take her back home.”
“Just a bit longer Azul…please…” Ama sounded sad, the way they sighed. Coral could make out the sound of movement. Maybe Ama turned on their stomach?
“I just need this, okay? The sun and the air.” Coral peaked an eye open up at Ama and Zuzu. She could see that Ama was indeed on their stomach, facing Zuzu as they kept speaking.
“Didn’t you used to miss the sea when you were at NRC all year? The cool water, the darkness? Floyd would talk about getting homesick, wouldn’t you?”
Zuzu sighed again, holding his cheek in his hand.
“Sometimes, yes. As much as I didn’t like my natural form then, I missed having ten limbs. Losing 6 of them was a shock. Couldn’t do quite as much as I usually could.”
Ama blinked sleepily as they yawned, the sun was lulling them to sleep too. Coral really took after them.
“I just miss my home.”
Zuzu was silent, the swaying of his tentacles in the water stopping, and the one rocking Coral slowing down.
“… Your home is under the sea. You remember that, right?”
“…”
“Angelfish?”
Ama sniffled, their eyes watering as they looked to the side, staring at the shoreline nearby.
“I know! I know it is, it’s just…”
Tears began flowing from their eyes, their lips quivering as they continued.
“It’s not that I’m not happy with you all, I am. I really am, I just—” They took a shuddering breath, rubbing the tears from their eyes. “—I had another family before. Parents, siblings, friends, that I will never see again. That my girls will never meet!”
Holding their face in their hands, Ama began tearfully rambling, making Coral’s heart feel funny.
“I had a whole culture, a language, that I can barely remember now. I love my life here, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like I’m losing a part of myself. Can you imagine that, Azul? Can you imagine remembering the touch of your mother’s hand on your cheek, but her face faded from your mind? She will never get to meet her, you, Jade, or Floyd. She will never meet her granddaughters. She will never know that I’m safe and happy and loved.”
Ama was crying now, hiccuping as Zuzu reached up to cradle their face, pressing his forehead again theirs. He was wiping their tears away, cooing at them like he would when Coral or Pearl had a nightmare.
“And you are so loved, my dear. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but know that when the twins and I gave our word to care for you, we meant it.” Zuzu pressed a soft kiss against their lips, giving them a small smile. “We never go back on our word, especially where you are involved.”
Sighing, Ama nodded, holding Zuzu’s hand against them as they kissed his palm.
“I know, I just hope that somehow, my family knows that. That I’m loved, and safe. And trying to keep their part of me alive.”
Zuzu chuckled softly, one of his tentacles scooping up some water to pour over Ama’s drying tail.
“Is that why you’ve been teaching them phrases in your language? Pearl was shouting something at Floyd a few days ago after he took the jellyfish she was trying to teeth on. Did you teach her curse words?”
Ama snorted, smiling at him as they reached down to splash some water onto their face, speaking a phrase in the foreign tongue that Ama spoke to them sometimes.
“No, nothing remotely like that. It means ‘I love you’ in my language. I just told her it’s a bad word, and to never say it. I figured she’d try cussing one of the twins out eventually, so I told her how to say ‘i love you’ instead.”
Zuzu tilted his head as he repeated the words, though he sounded off. Ama giggled at him, shaking their head.
“No, you gotta click your tongue! Like this.” Ama repeated it, their voice taking on a different tone and accent as they did.
Zuzu repeated it back, sounding closer to Ama’s accent, though they still giggled at him.
“I’m trying! Don’t laugh!” Zuzu huffed, though Coral could make out the tips of his mouth curl up into a smile. “Say it again, say I love you in your tongue.”
Ama smiled, their skin flushing as they repeated the words.
“Hmm, again.” Zuzu purred, smiling at the shy smile on Ama’s face. They repeated it again. And again as Zuzu kept demanding them to say it again and again, while Ama kept giggling and repeating it back.
Coral cringed at the display, feeling embarrassed as they shared a long kiss.
“Ew…Ah!”
Coral yelped as the tentacle that had been cradling her suddenly tightened around her waist and lifted her upside down. Squealing at the sudden change, Coral giggled as Zuzu brought her between them, he looked annoyed as Ama was smiling.
“I thought you were asleep, were you pretending, you little sneak?” Zuzu clicked his tongue, though based on his smirk, he was more amused than anything.
“Hehe, noooo~” Coral giggled as she was lowered down into Ama’s arms, who cradled her against their chest and fluttered kisses against their cheeks. “Ah! Ama! That tickles!”
Coral squirmed against their grasp, finally wiggling up as their little legs grabbed onto Ama’s arms to hold herself straight.
Trying to straighten her face, Coral grabbed Ama’s cheeks with her little hands and, very seriously in her opinion, asked, “Is Ama okay? You were crying about home, do you not like being in the ocean?”
Ama frowned, shaking their head as they gave Coral a smile and bumped their forehead against hers.
“No, baby, Ama loves being in the ocean. They just miss being a human with their family.”
“Ama was a human?! No way!” Coral gasped, eyes going wide. “I thought that was just for school!”
Coral frowned as she thought back to Ama’s earlier words.
“Do we have more family far away? In the land? Is that why Ama is so sad?” Coral asked, watching as Ama’s face turned sad, but quickly back to a small smile.
“Yes, baby, but it’s more complicated than that.” Ama lifted Coral into their arms, sliding down into Zuzu’s arms and tentacles as he lowered them back down into the water. “I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”
“Besides,” Zuzu piped up, pressing a kiss into Coral’s forehead. “You’re still due for a nap, Coral, you can wait later.”
Coral pouted, mumbling complaints to herself as they all dove back into the water.
“But I wanna know noooow…it’s not fair! I’m not—” Coral yawned mid-sentence. “—mmh. Ima not tired…”
One of Zuzu’s tentacles reached over to brush her hair as Ama cradled her closer to their chest, Coral curling against them despite herself.
“Shush, go to sleep, baby.” Ama cooed as they slowly made their way back home. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and you can ask whatever you want, okay? Sleep my baby.”
Coral blinked sleepily, eyes wandering as she made out the outline of her Ama’s face as they brushed a finger against her cheek.
Coral thinks she understood what her Ama was saying. She loved Ama’s hands on her cheek. She loved her Ama’s face. She never wanted to forget her Ama’s face.
Her final thought, before finally falling asleep to the image of Ama’s smiling face, was how warm her Ama made her feel. Like her own personal sun.
comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷
#mochi fic#twst#twisted wonderland#jade leech#floyd leech#azul ashengrotto#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade/azul#floyd/azul#octotrio#octopolycule#shrimpy chronicles
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Revelations - Part 3
Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader
Summary: a fic focused on the readers career because YOU ARE A QUEEN
a/n: i wrote this before the Newey/RBR break up. i also can’t stop ending my fics with a social media post 😭
requests open masterlist
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When Daniel retired from F1, you were ready to pull the plug on your career, but he wouldn’t let you. He saw the passion you still had and didn’t want to extinguish it just because he wasn’t going to have a seat in the race anymore. Instead, he decided to live his best life as a stay-at-home dad while also coaching Florence who was naturally drawn to her dad’s karts.
Your family eventually moved to England, it being the easier move with your job promotion and Florence’s karting. You took the Chief Engineering Officer position after Daniel retired, working closely with the man who taught you so much. Adrian and you were a dynamic duo, the cars you build together are rocket ships. Daniel is an ambassador for Red Bull when he isn’t with Florence at karting competitions. You’ve been teaching Sidney about the mechanics behind karts and the cars, letting him come to work with you to shadow once in a while.
You walk into Christian’s office to remind him about the family dinner tonight, Max already promised to be in attendance with P and Kelly.
“Y/n, mind taking a seat?” Christian asks, you think nothing of it, figuring he just wants an update on the car.
“What’s up? There isn’t much of a progress update yet,” you say, sipping your coffee.
“I’d like to sign Florence into our driver development program. Not just because she is a Ricciardo, but because she has the technical knowledge and the talent. I know someone with Rodin who has a seat open for her in Formula 4,” Christian says and you nod, having gotten a similar offer from Mercedes and Ferrari. You feel pride in your daughter, her hard work and drive being recognized by top programs. It’s extra special because Christian is using his connections to help get her a seat with Daniel’s old F3 team.
“The PR will be tricky to manage, but would you like to tell her at dinner tonight?” you smile, F1 fans already joke about Red Bull being Ricciardo central. Sidney is preparing for his semester finals for Mechanical Engineering and you can’t believe it’s been ten years since they made their first paddock appearance. You negotiate some terms with Christian, the most important being that if she wants to leave the program and go to another, she can.
“We will announce it once she’s signed with the team, I’ll give my person a call,” Christian lets you know before you go to your office. You admire the family photo you took when Florence won the CIK-FIA world championship last month. She’s been dominating British karting all year, Daniel has been working so hard to help her get where she wants to be.
Your day flies by, and before you know it you are all seated in your living room.
“How’s the driver program selection going?” Max asks Christian, genuinely curious.
“I actually made my selection today, Florence, how do you feel about the family legacy?” Christian beams as her face lights up.
“Really? Oh my god, thank you Uncle Christian!” she darts over to him to hug him. “Uncle Maxie, you better watch out,” she grins at Max, who is a Red Bull institution.
“I’ll be very lucky if I am still racing when you get to F1, but I will be happy to coach you,” Max chuckles, knowing he’s pushing the limit of his career.
“No way, that job is reserved for me,” Daniel tells Max who just frowns at his friend for taking away his plan.
A few years later, your whole family is essentially traveling race to race. Sidney is interning with Red Bull, Florence is racing with Rodin in F2, and Daniel is living his best life as a commentator.
“Y/n, let’s grab coffee,” you’ve noticed that Christian tends to say that when he has something important to say.
“What’s wrong?” you cut straight to the chase.
“Max is retiring after this season and I am going to retire as well,” Christian says and a silence falls between you.
“It’s a well deserved retirement for both of you,” you say after a couple seconds.
“I am recommending you for team principal. I also want you to be involved in choosing who is the next driver for the team,” Christian says and you pause.
“I would be honored, that would be huge shoes to fill,” you say after a second.
“You deserve it, you’ve worked your way up from the bottom,” Christian reassures you. In the next month, you signed your contract and got Oliver Bearman to replace Max’s seat.
“You should’ve let me take the seat, Mom,” Florence smiles, you shake your head.
“Not yet, you are a wonderful driver, but I can’t sign you my first year as team principal,” you tell her. Your promotion has been well received among staff and fans. You take the promotion seriously, learning what you don’t know while Christian is still there.
Five years later you walk into testing excitedly. It is a special day for your family.
“Daniel Ricciardo here reporting from the Paddock for testing, let’s see who we can grab,” your husband says, looking towards the entrance where you are walking in. “Y/n Ricciardo, have a second for an interview,” he smiles as you ate into the frame.
“I do, rare for a team principal,” you smile adoringly at your husband, still the young driver getting his shot in your eyes.
“How do you feel going into testing?”
“Great, my engineers and I have worked hard on the car, we are excited to see how it performs against the field,”
“And you have a new driver this year? How is that going?”
“Well so far, as a team we’ve been watching her for years. She’s worked hard with our junior team and we are always excited to bring young talent in. It’s always a tough decision when choosing someone for a seat, but we are confident in our choice,” you say, keeping things professional. The fans watching live are loving the interview, commenting about how your family is acting as if you aren’t a family.
“One last question, your new driver, Florence Ricciardo, is bringing in her own race engineer, Sidney Ricciardo, an engineer who worked for Red Bull Racing in the past. Are there any worries about an unproven race engineer?” Daniel says, the two of you somehow keeping a straight face.
“Obviously we want our drivers to be comfortable with their race engineer. Sidney has been with the team for a while before going to McLaren, so we are excited to welcome him back. Our team has worked with him to familiarize himself with the job, and he will be beside me on pit wall today for that reason,” you explain, a small smile holding back the laughter.
“Thank you for your time, Y/n. Good luck today,” Daniel tells you before you walk off. The video goes viral among F1 fans for the sheer humor of it. Fans also love that Florence and Sidney are following their parent footsteps and career paths.
“That interview was so funny,” Sidney sits beside you in hospitality.
“Thank you, Sid. I may be old but I can still be funny,” you smile at your son. “Are you nervous? I remember how nervous I was on pit wall the first time as your dad’s engineer,” you ask him.
“I am your son, I’ve got it in the bag, plus it’s only Flo,” Sidney says as Florence barges into the room, sitting beside you. Daniel follows behind her, quietly sitting beside her.
“Thanks for basically disowning me on live television, Mom. Oh, hi Dad,” Florence hugs her dad as you all try not to laugh.
“Come on, Flo, it was funny watching Mom and Dad act like we all weren’t related,” Sidney laughs. The social media team takes a picture and posts it on twitter.
twitter
@redbullracing: guys, a bunch of people with the last name Ricciardo are sitting in our hospitality, I guess all but one works for us. Apparently they know each our team principal? Are they related or is this just a weird coincidence?
@y/nricciardo not related to me, just a weird coincidence.
↪️@florencericciardo MOM! STOP DISOWNING ME
↪️@sidneyricciardo no, no, please continue disowning her
↪️@danielricciardo Do you know who these two are, Y/n? I don’t recognize them
↪️@y/nricciardo I’m sorry, do I know a Daniel?
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagines#daniel ricciardo imagine
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Importance
pairings: dad!Chan x mom!reader
warnings: angst, fluff
summary: Having a child with an idol isn't easy...
author's note: I'm sorry that I couldn't post anything the last two weeks. But here I am with a new one!
Marriage wasn't easy. Especially when your beloved husband was an idol. The Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids.
Between tours and busy schedules, there was little time for your relationship. But even though it was hard and you missed him like hell when he was gone for a long time, you still didn't regret to come to your best friend Changbin's party years ago. There, you had met him.
Well, he didn't see you and accidentally poured his drink over you. When your eyes met, he was fascinated by your breathtaking beauty. Maybe it was destiny back then. It felt surreal, like he was your soulmate. The missing piece in in your heart and life.
Apologetic, he bought you a drink and after a wonderful night together, asked for your number.
Soon, he took you out on a date and there followed a second and a third, becoming a huge part in your life.
Without noticing, time passed and Chan proposed to you.
You immediately said yes and became Mrs. Bang.
The second you were married, your family asked when you both would begin to try for a baby but Chan and you wanted to wait some time before thinking about an addition to your family.
You still were young and Stray kids took much time and you understood that. Your job was also one of your top priorities and wanted to earn more money.
But it seemed that the universe had other plans with you two. Seven months after the wedding you started feeling sick. At first you brushed it off and thought that it is just a stomach bug or the stress due to work.
As the lovely but overly concerned husband that he is, Chan took you too a doctor to get a check up. Even though you found it a little bit overdramatic, he still insisted and the reason why you felt nauseous was soon found. You were indeed pregnant and already two months into pregnancy.
Sure, it wasn't planned but you and Chan felt excited to have a small addition to the family. And sooner or later it would have happend anyways.
Chan promised that when the pregnancy was farther along, he would take some time off and help you. You agreed to that and decided to work some more months too before you need to go into maternity leave.
The months passed fast and soon, you welcomed your newest family member. A girl. A sweet girl with already some black locks on her head and the same brown eyes that you fell in love with.
Chan was over the moon. Even though during labour, he was terrified. Would he be a good dad? But all these thoughts washed away when he saw the beautiful angel you both had created with your undying love.
He was the first one to hold her as her crying filled the room. Exhausted, you observed the picture in front of you. Your husband with his precious daughter that already looked like a smaller copy of him.
He was told to undress his shirt and to lay the little bundle of joy against his bare chest to help her breath and keeping her warmth while the doctor checked on you because you had lost a lot of blood during birth.
The first weeks were exhausting. Your little girl, Nari, held both of you awake most of the night. Yourself needed to heal and time to recover from the labor, so you relied mostly on your husband who took such good care for his girl. Fortunately, he got some weeks off to settle into parenthood before going back to the boys even though they nearly saw each other every day.
Since you got home from the hospital, four days after birth, they visited you to meet their 'little sister' as they called Nari. Oh lord, they were so smitten. The only one that seems not so sure about that little human was Seungmin but when he thought that nobody would watch, you catched him drawing circles over Nari's hands, smiling when she wrapped her hand around one of his fingers.
When Chan went back, the house was suddenly so empty. After weeks of being together 24/7, the sudden quiet was unfamiliar. In the mornings, Chan was already out, you loved to lay on the couch, your daughter on your chest, snuggling close to you while sleeping.
When Chan came back home in the evening, he greeted you with a kiss and immediately ran off to his daughter to tell her about his day even though she was already sleeping. You loved to observe him while cooking. You loved this little family. It was something that you ever wanted.
You really loved Nari. But after the pregnancy and early motherhood, you needed some space for yourself. You would love to spend an evening with your girls. Just making yourself look pretty and have fun without watching over a child.
Especially since you almost never leave the house except for some stroller walks and buying errands.
You asked your husband if he comes home some hours earlier so that you could enjoy your night. Immediately, he agreed and you were so grateful that he understood you.
On that day, you took your time with getting ready while your daughter slept. You hoped that Chan would be home soon so that you would be on time since you hated being late.
Minutes passed as you sat on the couch waiting for him. Minutes turned into half an hour and you wrote your girls that you would run a little late today. They were understanding.
More minutes passed and you waited already for a whole hour. You tried to call him since he was always so focused on his work so that he sometimes forgets the time.
He didn't pick up and you were already half an hour late. Your girls were already seated in your restaurant, waiting for you to show up so that they could start ordering food.
Sighing, you texted then that you couldn't make it and they shouldn't wait up on you. Frustrated, you cleared your face from the make up that was hours worth of work.
You took off the new dress that you had bought. You were so excited to wear it because it made you feel so pretty again after the pregnancy made you look bloated and your belly was still not the same then before.
You didn't know if you felt rage, sadness or disappointment that you needed to stay home because of your husband.
It wouldn't be so bad if it was the first time after he got back to work. He used to come back at a normal time to have some time with you and the baby. But as the weeks passed, he stayed later and got up earlier so that you saw him just for some minutes per day.
It was like you were all on your own here in your home. You knew from the beginning that Stray kids was really important to him but after entering parenthood you had hoped that he wouldn't stay till past midnight in the company.
You heard the key unlocking the front door and your husband finally decided to come home after he had promised you that he would be here three hours ago. He greeted you with a small peck on the forehead as you waited for him in the living room.
He looked so calm while dropping his bag to the ground and sitting down on the couch.
"Why are you standing there honey?" He asked. You crossed your arms. He didn't even remembered that this was supposed to be your night out.
"Why are you so late?" You tried to remain calm since your daughter slept in the neighbouring room.
"I was working on the newest song for stray kids" he explained.
"Oh really? Because you said you would be here hours ago" you didn't want to pick a fight. You hated fighting with him. It made your heart clench but this night was important to you.
"I'm sorry honey. But I needed to get it done"
"Well, I had plans for the night, Chan."
"Really? I'm sorry honey. I forgot and this song was important"
"The song was important? My reservation with the girls was important to me" you said and couldn't hold the calm tone that you wanted.
"I already said I'm sorry, Y/n. I got caught up in work" He grew annoyed.
"Like always. You're always so late that I wonder if you even remember that you have a family at home" You knew you were mean and unfair but all these things were twirling around your head for days.
"Of course I remember! I'm sorry that I make money for us" he exclaimed sarcastically. His voice loud, nearly shouting.
These words hurt you. He knew damn well that you aren't dependent on his money and that you make good money as well. Even though you currently took a maternity leave.
"Fuck you, Chan. You aren't the only one working. I was asking you for just one thing. Just being home a little earlier so that I could have some time for myself." You said loudly, your voice cracking in the middle as some tears stung in your eyes.
"Y/n. I-" he tried but you stopped him.
"Nari is your child too. Currently, I'm the only one she sees whether it's in the morning or in the evening. And I'm tired. Tired of being the only one raising her."
You heard cries from the other room. You must have woken up your sleeping daughter. Sighing, you excited the room and headed to Nari without waiting for an answer.
Chan knew that he went too far and that he was more away than home. And it pained him to not spend so much time with his daughter. Slowly he followed you to your daughter's room.
It was dimly lit and you sat in the rocking chair next to her crib with Nari in your arms, rocking her. He hated seeing her in distress and guilt crept up. He was a terrible father and an even more terrible husband.
You felt Chan's hot gaze on you. You knew that the guilt ate him alive right now. He couldn't fool you. Therefore you knew him too well.
After placing Nari back into her crib, giving her a light kiss on her soft skin that smelled so sweet like a baby. Your baby.
Then, you took Chan's hand and lead you outside to the kitchen, farther away from your daughter.
He just followed you, deep in thoughts.
"Y/n, I'm so sorry. I should have come early. And I know that parenting a child alone is difficult. I didn't want to lash out on you like that. I know that the meeting with your friends was important to you" he said and caressed your hand.
"I'm sorry too. It's obvious that you try to be around Nari as long and often as you can."
"No, you were right. I need to be here more. Especially with you both. I shouldn't let work take over so much" he said and pulled you into his arms.
His arms circled around your waist while yours travelled upwards into his fluffy locks. Exhausted he let his head fall on your shoulder, all the tension leaving his body.
"I love you Chan" you whispered.
"I love you too. You and Nari are the most important things in my life"
#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan imagines#stray kids#stray kids angst
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languages, travel, identity, grief
Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.
I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.
That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.
I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.
And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.
I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.
And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.
But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.
There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!
And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.
So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.
You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.
I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.
It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.
And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.
It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.
Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.
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Imagine you're an ex-evangelical high schooler who's been out for all of one year and is living with your girlfriend's family because you got kicked out of your homophobic parents' house. This girlfriend is the one who helped you realize you're gay - she held your hand as you cut ties with your church.
As well as being gay, you're also a forgetful, impulsive kid who has a really hard time getting your mouth to agree with your brain. You have ADHD, but you aren't diagnosed and you'd probably deny the idea of it were brought up. Nonetheless, these traits have historically given you a hard time not just in school, but in terms of making and keeping friends, too.
Sophomore year, you go on a huge trip with your girlfriend, and after a lot of miscommunication, conflict, and reconciliation, she dumps you. It's on as good of terms as you could hope for; you know you'll be heartbroken for months, but it isn't a fight, and she doesn't hold anything against you. She tells you that it's because she needs a bit more stability in a partner; someone who's going to be better able to center her needs when the situation calls for it. This stings - you know you weren't the best partner on this trip. Like always, you said the wrong thing, and the stressful situations you found yourselves in exacerbated your fights. She's telling you the same thing everyone does; you don't try hard enough. You don't care.
You move on. You have a super busy summer with your best friends and they help you work through it, as best you can. Things get better, and you decide to start taking better care of yourself. You're still living with ex-gf's family, but ex-gf is out of the country getting into politics. She's trying to build a grassroots movement to help the members of her religion start divesting from their involvement with that evangelical church that raised you. It's a noble calling.
When junior year starts, you and your friends start getting bullied & harassed by this girl. There's a lot going on there, but whenever you confront her, all she does is talk about how little you care; how easy you have it; you lazy you are. All the worst versions of the things everyone always tells you, spar in your face. The nice teachers pity you, thinking of you like You're not a full person. The mean ones call you a slacker and a class clown. This girl combines the two; she snipe's at you about how easy your life must be because you've managed to trick your friends into thinking you give a shit. All this while you're in danger of being expelled, and tanking your friends' grades on your way down. All this while you attend school *solely* for their sake. All this while you're trying harder than you ever have before, and it's only barely working.
Over winter break your junior year, you decide to visit ex-gf with your friends. You feel better about things with her, and even though school and that bully are stressing you out, you think it'll be a nice time. When you get off the bus to the small town where she lives now, you're led to the center of her political movement - a megachurch.
Not an abandoned building. Not some old rundown thing they've commandeered, or a repurposed space they rent for their own ends. No; a brand new evangelical megachurch, that your ex gf had a hand in designing.
You question her about it, and she gets snippy with you. She asks what do you mean this is wrong? What do you mean she's clearly becoming the exact thing she set out trying to overthrow? This isn't a megachurch! It's just a sign that their movement is popular!
Then you meet her girlfriend. And you know something? She seems nice enough. She's a lot like you, actually - she's kind of forgetful, and impulsive. She has a hard time with words, like you. Thing is though - she's also the daughter of a famous evangelical minister. And guess who paid for this church.
Yeah, so it turns out your GF left you, citing your forgetfulness and lack of ability to demonstrate care to her satisfaction as reasons why. She then turned around and got together with someone who can be generously described as "you but rich," and then set about becoming a spokesperson for the same homophobic church she told you to become homeless running from.
Tracker is a hypocrite and a bootlicker, is what I'm saying.
#i have FEELINGS#kristen deserves better#fantasy high#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#kristen applebees#tracker o'shaughnessey#naradriel
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actually. i was thinking, though. what exactly *is* the metric of a tim civilian friend. as in, what exactly makes a character tim's friend vs a kid he goes to school with who he happens to friendly with (because tim is generally friendly with everyone). what's the distinction?
and i think the answer falls on "does tim's civilian life and robin life intersect in a significant way around this character"
because, listen. we all know that tim is a compartmentalizer who tries to keep the ideas of "tim" & "robin" separate. however, we also know that it's not one or the other with tim--he's both. and the closer you're allowed to that narrative intersection of both tim & robin, the more the civilian in question can then be seen to have importance in *tim's* life and a reciprocation of friendship interest by tim.
because you think of the gotham heights high crew--not only does tim use his skills to investigate what's wrong with ives at one point (he got an embarrassing job), he's also used the W&W crew for unknowing assistance against the joker, hudson leads him to a case at one point, & he runs into a case whole hanging out with them to see a play at the park. despite tim's best effort to seperate parts of himself the close interactions of his other life to his friends is not just tim accepting friendship, but tim narratively showing friendship in return--they are narratively allowed to be a part of his life as robin though they'll never know it.
and the brentwood boys are no different. though they're not allowed the secret, their lives are affected and improved by tim as robin. as they give friendship, tim gives friendship in return. and when tim leaves his friendship and reunion with ives is marked by a case, the one with charaxes.
and even later, with zoanne, her life and relationship with tim is complicated by tim's life as robin, but she is allowed that narrative closeness to his life as robin, closeness to the entirety of his life. she even makes a cameo as having spoken to vicki vale about tim, and vicki's story during that era is finding proof of the hidden life of the batfam.
louis grieve is interesting because darla is the friend of the era who meets this metric--her life as a mob daughter is doomed to return tim to his true life. her resurrection as warlock's daughter is what intersects her with whole of tim's life, not just tim. and bernard surprisingly doesn't have any narrative markers that would indicate these kind of particularly close feelings from tim towards him--tim does not help him on a personal level with his personal life, there's, hm. like bernard does bring him the news of steph being robin, but there's really no personal intersection of *tim as robin* with bernard or because of bernard or for bernard. they do interact during the school shooting but it's no more personal than tim and the rest of the kids. in post-crisis, at least, the lack of tim's as robin having any sort of notable personal connection to bernard narratively indicates a fundamental distance between them where tim is not shown to have any significant personal investment in/towards bernard unlike all the other civilian friends. i would say bernard does make in on account of his presence at the school shooting, however when tim's true self is both robin & tim, for him to not have any significant personal narrative connection to the real tim, it does makes him a notable outlier among the civilian cast.
#okay NOW i'm done.#i do think this is intentional btw there absolutely was room to put him + his trauma post the shooting#in a way that tim would have had a chance to intervene as robin and thereby connect bernard to the true tim#but the notable absence of tim having any sort of personal robin connection to him#does narratively indicate a functional disinterest in him on tim's part
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G'raha's Leadership in the Final Days
Finally got PunchyCat to the Final Days, and while we often speak to the big cutscene where G'raha "goes into Exarch mode" and takes command in the chaos, before that he and the WoL run around Radz-at-Han investigating the Blasphemy, and even there, G'raha's many years as Exarch really show through in how he interacts with the traumatized and terrified people.
Rahdvira: Sisters have mercy, what is happening to the world!? What am I to do…? Is nowhere safe!?
G'raha Tia: Settle down, friend. The danger has passed…at least for now. If it's not too painful to remember, could you tell us what you saw?
and at the end of the man's tale:
G'raha Tia: That is enough, my good man. You were brave to share with us your tale. Many of your fellow merchants are safe. The High Crucible, too, has survived mostly unscathed. Pray stay close to your friends and loved ones, and rest your body and mind while you are able.
G'raha Tia: I suspect that is the most we can expect the people here to tell us. I think it best we find a place outside the bazaar where we might rest and review our findings.
Choosing to Speak with G'raha...
G'raha Tia: It might distress those still traumatized by the incident to discuss what we've learned within earshot…
He also remembers the details of how WoL knew Khalzahl (thanks to that great memory of his, hearing the reports of the first trip to Thavnair). As Mihleel is shaken by remembering the terror erupting at her tables, however...
G'raha Tia: Forgive me. I would not have you recall the memory if it brings you pain. If I could, I would ask just one more thing.
After getting directions to Khalzahl's neighborhood, WoL and G'raha question an older woman:
Mahti: I don't travel much these days, but my daughter's told me not to venture outside. Stuck in here as I am, I've heard little about these bizarre goings-on.
G'raha Tia: Rest assured, the city is safe for now, but the situation may change without warning.
G'raha Tia: I urge you: stay close to your daughter, and be prepared to take refuge should the satrap order it.
Mahti: Yes, I shall do just that. Thank you for your concern, and pray stay safe as well.
And then the sleepy Arkasodara down the street:
Parigha: Hmmm…? Could you come back another time? I just woke up, and I'm not exactly in the mood for idle chitchat.
G'raha Tia: Well, that's one way to avoid the panic, I suppose…
G'raha Tia: Pardon our intrusion. You may not have noticed, but a great danger has come to Thavnair. I encourage you to stay alert, and prepare to flee the city should the situation turn dire.
G'raha Tia: But before we leave you in peace…pray allow us to ask a question or two.
And finally, when dealing with Djinabaha at Ruveydah Fibers, helping the employees pack things away before he'd even talk, G'raha finishes with this as we go on to the next quest (and Ahewann's fate).
G'raha Tia: My friend, we must take our leave. I pray that your establishment is spared further tragedy. But remember: your lives are far more precious than any wares. If you are ordered to flee, do so without hesitation.
Djinabaha: Indeed… I thank you for your concern, and pray you two take care as well.
G'raha knows how to talk to people shaken by disaster, calming and reassuring, and giving them clear advice and action to take to keep themselves safe. It's a handy precursor to his taking command in the next cutscene, reminding us that he is, unfortunately, all too familiar with events similar to these, and this steadiness, thoughtfulness, and concern comes from too many years of practice.
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It's been about a decade since Alfonso Alto came to destroy Postres de Alegría by opening his own business, Alto's Bakery. He stole their customers by using his family name and wealth, which Noemí could compete with as an immigrant with barely any money to her name.
Noemí and her mom, Ynez, had a dream to open up their own bakery. When Ynez passed away, Noemí was left on her own to make that dream a reality. She moved to a different continent and started doing bake sales at the front of her new house. It was nothing fancy, but it was a start. Noemí set money aside whenever she could.
She didn't think she would open her own bakery for a long time.. until her best friend, Irene, and her husband, Teodor, came to her with the partnership opportunity of a lifetime. It was either now or possibly never. Noemí was hesitant at first, but she eventually accepted. She had her bakery and it was all thanks to Irene and Teodor!
Nothing could have prepared them when Teodor's ex-business partner, Alfonso, came after him yet again... He already did it once when he stole his resort plans back in Isla Paradiso. Yeah, everything happened a long time ago and the Alegrías are somewhat okay financially now. However, rage builds up inside Dulce whenever she passes by Alto's Bakery and sees a long line of people outside. Maybe Alfonso's customers don't know or simply don't care about what he did, but Dulce has to do something about it.
And by the looks of it, Alfonso doesn't have anyone by his side anymore. Nick and Vita Alto passed from old age. Holly Alto wanted nothing to do with her family, so she changed her name and moved away to live a humble life. Bert Alto is in hospice care and doesn't have any heirs. Alfonso's daughter, Ashley, also wants nothing to do with his weird business practices; instead, she married into another rich family. Alfonso's alone. He's done.
Why hasn't he retired yet and let go of that damn bakery? Does he still want to take every single cent away from Teodor Medina until his last breath? Who knows? Dulce says it ends with her.
#this is a little recap of everything#the comments hardly have likes cuz she posted the video not that long ago#and just a reminder that teodor and the altos are all from the sims 3 😁 i didn't come up with the resort plan backstory#dulce alegria#tjolc gen 1#tjol challenge#tjolc#alegria legacy#matchalovertrait#sims 4#sims 4 legacy#ts4 legacy#ts4#tw death mention
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Só quero ir para casa, para ti [rd]
Author’s note: my best friend described this as “disgustingly cute”, so here you have some cute dad!Rúben to compensate for the last one 🫣 thank you to the anon who requested this, hope you enjoy it! Mwah mwah
wc: 1601- English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated
Rúben absolutely hates being far from you, especially now that you’re pregnant with your second baby.
He is currently in Abu Dhabi with the team, preparing the upcoming season. Not only is he 4 hours ahead in the clock, he is also full of trainings and recovery sessions - leaving him so little time to talk to you.
You are now five months pregnant and your baby is starting to kick and move like crazy inside of you. You try your best to show everything to Rúben, not wanting him to feel left out for losing all these special moments. But, you both agree that video calls might help a bit to ease the sadness of being away from each other, but those minutes don’t really make up from all the time that Rúben spends without his wife, daughter and son.
Every time he looks at you through his phone screen, he can’t help but think how beautiful you look, the pregnancy glow really showing again - more and more each day now. He misses you like crazy, even just a couple of hours would already be too much time away from you and your family, but spending weeks so far is killing him already.
He especially misses sleeping next to your belly, wanting to feel as close to his boy as possible, while Matilde is wrapped strongly in his arms. He misses the way you would laugh when he peppered your belly with kisses. He misses talking to his children - having full conversations about every thing and anything at the same time, really. Always promising his entire love and dedication to the other love of his life, his baby - Dinis.
Rúben has been sad lately, thinking non-stop about all the times you call him, or send him videos of his son moving inside your belly. He hasn’t felt it yet. Every single time the baby decides to move, he’s not around, and when he is, Dinis decides to keep quiet.
“Maybe he is just shy. He’ll move for you when he feels like it, we can’t rush these things” - you would always say to him, trying to get a bit of all the guilt Rúben held upon his shoulders to go away. Why wouldn’t the light of his life kick for him? He even smiled at the first time you told him in between laughs ‘he’s not kicking because he’s afraid that you’ll tackle him’. Yeah, jokes about him being a footballer and his son not kicking around him.
But lately he has been feeling down, his mind thinking about that all the time. What if his baby gets here and doesn’t feel comfortable enough around him? He would always move to the sound of her mom’s voice, but not to his. Matilde was a very active baby, always moving and kicking to the sound of her dad’s voice - totally a daddy’s girl, still today being always glued to him, playing him with, sleeping with him, cuddling with him.
Either way, Rúben is tired, missing you, his princess and his baby. You are video chatting once again, him seeing how his boy’s tiny feet would mark your belly and talking to his princess, Matilde. He tries to smile, glad to see his baby moving once again, even if he’s not there to feel the sensation.
You can sense that he is a little down, but you try to shrug it off since he said he was feeling tired and sleepy.
“Tenho tantas saudades vossas” (I miss you so much) - he says lowly, like his voice is threatening to start shaking if he speaks any louder.
You smile, understanding why he is so down. “We miss you too” - you say to your husband, noticing how his face falls.
However, the voice of his angel on earth brings a smile to appear on Rúben’s face. “Volta rápido, papá” (come back soon, daddy) - Matilde says, showing his daddy her newest growing teeth, that has been giving her mommy so much trouble and sleepless nights.
“Eu já só quero ir para casa, para vocês” (I just want to go home, to you) - by the way he is talking portuguese to you, you know he really means it. He takes the value of saudade very seriously, no translation can do that feeling justice.
Rúben goes to sleep with a headache. Maybe he should stop pushing his baby, stop begging him to kick into his hand. Maybe he should go back home with a different mindset. Trying to fight some kind of war with his son really sounds crazy to him, and he kind of hates himself for being so annoyed about something so trivial as that.
When he finally goes home, after so many weeks apart, you and Matilde are waiting home to greet him, you even cooked your daughter’s favourite cake - she insisted so she could share it with her daddy on their usual tea party, something that has became a tradition between Rúben and her already.
Berny the bunny and Johnny the bear are patiently waiting on the three year old girl’s lap for her most important guest to arrive - the little girl anxiously setting every thing up.
When you hear the door handle click open, Matilde immediately runs to the door.
“Papá, papá! You’re home!” - she girl screams as Rúben immediately picks her up and wraps her on his arms, taking in the wonderful and unmistakable scent of his daughter, breathing deeply and hugging her tightly, scared that she would run away if he puts her down - but she would never run away, she loves her daddy more than anything in this world, his embrace is her favourite place to be. The little girl wraps her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck even tighter, telling him how much she loves him and how much she missed him every day that he was away.
That alone made some tears appear in Rúben’s eyes, walking with his princess still in his arms, going to greet you with a passionate kiss, missing you like death. His hand instinctively goes to your belly - nothing happened. But Rúben is not going to worry about that anymore. He has his family by his side again, and that’s all that matters to him.
After the tea party with Matilde and a small family dinner, the little girl was already fast asleep on her father’s chest - never letting go of him since he arrived, and Rúben silently thanked her for that, really in need to feel his light near him as well, begging her to illuminate him a little more. Which she does, all the time, even if she doesn’t realise it. Rúben is already feeling lighter, being home near you and his babies helping him a lot with his mood.
After putting your sleepy daughter in her room, you and Rúben finally have some time to yourselves. He immediately wraps you in his arms, cuddling you close to him, hugging you and kissing your neck, face, shoulder, anywhere he could reach.
“Amo-te tanto” (I love you so much) - Rúben softly speaks in your ear, making your heart tingle like it’s the first time he is saying those words to you.
“We love you too” - you smile as you grab his hands that were already touching your belly, massaging your baby boy now.
Rúben smiles and tries his best to not think about the kicking topic.
“Is my boy behaving? Hope you’re not giving mommy much trouble already” - he speaks softly to his son, with a smile on his face.
When those words leave his mouth, Rúben’s hand feels a light kick. His face shows a shocked expression, not really believing what’s happening.
“What was this? This wasn’t a kick, right?” - he asks you, his mouth still agape at the feeling. You laugh at his reaction.
“Yes, it’s a kick, babe. Our son is answering your question” - you kiss the shock out of his face.
“Are you, filho? Are you answering daddy?” - Rúben keeps talking to the baby, hoping that he would keep kicking, amazed at the feeling of his baby’s kick for the first time.
Dinis kicks two more times, harder now at the sound of his dad’s voice, and Rúben’s eyes are full of tears, all the emotion and happiness falling down his face already.
“I can’t believe he’s finally kicking to me” - he says, more to himself.
“He loves you so much, never doubt that” - you reassure him.
“Oh god, I love you so much, Dinis. Dad will always be by your side, to play football with you, to teach you everything about space and astronauts, to take care of you and lead you the way” - he confesses while hugging you tightly now.
Rúben knows how badly you wanted this to happen, just as much as him. And he’s not a religious man, but it’s like he could feel all your prayers on him now, feeling such a powerful love wrapping your hearts, feeling extremely grateful for you, for being such a supportive wife and for bringing to life his biggest dream, the biggest loves of his life, his babies.
When you’re together, everything feels better to him, he’s only happy when he is holding his wife and daughter strongly in his arm - and now you are preparing your family for another beautiful adventure, almost welcoming your baby boy into this world - soon to be Rúben and Matilde’s best friend.
#dad!ruben#ruben dias x you#ruben dias oneshot#ruben dias fanfiction#ruben dias fic#ruben dias fanfic#ruben dias x reader#ruben dias imagine#ruben dias#thoughts about ruben#thoughts about football players#football imagines#football fanfic
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what's your opinion on steves 'ending' in endgame? i generally feel like it sort of goes against a character arc of his, and a bit conflicting how much he did to not lose bucky and then sorta ditched it all the second he could actually exist with him once more, kinda also feels like a plot hole in some scenarios for his character and the future but i'm probably talking with some form of bias, I'm not too sure!! so I wanted to know another persons perspective on it!!
opinion: Was Bad
credentials: My very first introduction to Marvel was my best friend (hardcore Steve Rogers fan, called me “her Bucky”, was as insane abt Steve as i currently am abt tony) bringing me to see Endgame, and then her talking MAD SHIT about the ending for the next few months. I have heard every criticism. I learned that the ending was character assassination before i even know what character was being assassinated.
So. i don’t think it’s good. Getting into the Meta of the MCU for a sec, the MCY movies are partially paid for by the USA military etc etc so they reflect some political targets of the country. You gotta watch for propoganda in the movies. and in endgame, it was the happy little family. There was the family together in Wakanda, Tony being all domestic with his wife and daughter, Clint finally got to be back with his family. The snap brought back other family members, including don’t remember enough but generally… they were pushing the happy family thing. The US birth rate is down, and i imagine that part of the funding included some sort of push for more family imagery, in order to influence people to settle down together.
And then there’s Steve. Who has always had a found family, he’s out of time, away from his legal family. He doesn’t have any way to be included in this push for a family. My guess for what happened in the writers room is that they assumed everyone would fall for it hook line and sinker. that people would start believing, somehow, that birth family and nuclear family structures are most important.
If you look at it from the framework of their imagined audience, who thinks a nucular familg reunited is the happiest structure of all, Steve got a happy ending! He got to be with a hetero romantic partner!
Where they went wrong, is that nobody fuckin fell for it. Because it wasn’t convincing in the slightest. They spent hours after hours showing how desperately Steve cares for Bucky, and then they betray Steve’s primary motivation (keeping friends safe) in order to fit into their Nuclear Family Initiative.
they accidentally created a character who was the perfect encapsulation of an audience member who would NOT care most about a nuclear family unit. They made a character who cares most about a non-romantic partner. And then, they had to try to convince us that it was the same guy, while actively betraying his core values.
Bad ending. Wrong ending. Betrayed the audience and the character.
And it’s due to propoganda.
(side note: as far as i can tell, they’ve moved from “family unit” to “parenting is important”. Most blatant example i saw of this was in the last GotG, but it’s all over. they’re making everyone parents.)
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I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)
masterlist | rules
❝ Can you please writhe a one shot with Jason and daughter of Psyche reader based on the song “I can fix him(no really i can)” by Taylor?Like imagine some time later when Jason is finally free from his demigod duties and goes to college with his friends,here he meets reader.Since she is a daughter of Psyche (the goddess of the human soul)she understands him immediately and she help him understand himself,discovering what he likes and to heal from his past and of course they fall in love. ❞ — anon
in which they shook their heads saying “god help her,” when you tell ‘em he’s your man
pairing jason grace x psyche!reader
warnings feelings of self loathing, slight bullying
on the radio . . . i can fix him (no really i can) (taylor swift)
an they r in new rome uni in this !! i feel like jason is a tad ooc but also its 11:30pm as im posting this and im tired
Everything you heard about Jason Grace screamed ‘red flag’. Son of Jupiter, ex-praetor, raised by wolves then sent to camp at the mere age of three or four - what was there not to be afraid of? To add to that, the way he carried himself exuded power in a way that would make anyone cower in fear. His face was inscrutable, crystal blue eyes unreadable in the same way the storms his father made were
However, you weren’t anyone. Your mother was Psyche, goddess of the soul. And as a daughter of Psyche, you could see right through just about everyone, including Jason Grace. Whenever you tapped into his energy, you couldn’t help but feel he was the complete opposite of what he presented himself as. While Jason seemed content with solitude to everyone around him, you knew that deep down, he was just seriously misunderstood and in desperate need for some loving
You were right. Jason’s life had been hell, especially the past couple years. His memory had been taken away from him, making him lose ties with all his friends and a potential lover, Reyna. Then, he’d gotten a new girlfriend and new friends, only for his girlfriend to dump him and his friends to all be too busy to spend a single second with him. Still, Jason had persevered. He applied and got accepted to New Rome University, he attended all his lectures, he got perfect grades, he tried his best to socialise.
The latter never worked out though. People either saw him as Jason the traitor, the guy who’d chosen to leave with the Greeks instead of fighting for his camp (Jason would stifle a laugh at the phrase ‘his camp’ - if this were really his camp, they wouldn’t have easily found a guy who’s the epitome of everything un-Roman to replace him. They weren’t any better), or as Jason the soldier, the man who’d toppled Kronos’ throne and won in a fight against the titan Krios, absolutely untouchable and worshipped in a way that would make his father seethe with jealousy
Eventually, he gave up. If that’s how they wanted him to be, so be it. He shut himself off from the world, focusing solely on his studies and his plans for shrines for every God and Goddess. Little did he know, a certain someone was formulating the perfect plan to become his friend
Your plan backfired. You’d spent weeks keeping note of all the classes you had with Jason, even occasionally following him to see where he’d go after class (his dorm, immediately), and yet you couldn’t seem to get a single conversation out of him. The closest you’d gotten was when you sat next to him in one of your lectures and dropped your pen - he’d simply handed it to you without a word. For the split-second your fingers brushed, you took on all his pain and felt it pull you apart. How could he cope with all of this baggage?
Luckily for you, the fates work in mysterious ways that in this case, happened to be in your favour
“Oh, I’ll leave. Sorry.” Someone mumbled from behind you. You had been having a hard time sleeping as it was exam season, meaning everyone’s late night stress as they did last minute cram sessions piled onto you, so you decided to go to the one place you knew would be quiet. It was a small garden you’d discovered as a freshman and dubbed as ‘your spot’, and you’d often come when you were feeling extra overwhelmed
Turning your head, your eyes widened as you saw none other than Jason Grace, who was about to go back to his dorm
“No, wait! You can stay, I don’t mind,” this was a first for Jason. Usually, people would go the other way at the sight of him, not offer to let him sit with them. He felt a gut-wrenching, yearning feeling in his stomach, and you felt it too. Softly, you patted the spot on the bench next to you. It was quiet between you, but with that simple gesture, you had made an everlasting mark in Jason’s mind
After that night, instead of leaving his bag on the seat next to him, Jason would put it on the floor in hopes that you’d see the empty seat and choose to sit there. You, ever the empath, did. The more you sat with Jason, the more words were said between you. You started the conversations, of course, asking him about his day and telling him about whatever minor inconvenience you had that morning
“I ran out of toothpaste,” Jason had said to you one day as you took your laptop out of your bag. This was his first time initiating a conversation. He wasn't sure why he did it, and cringed internally the moment those words came out of his mouth - toothpaste, Jason, really? - but you’d smiled and asked if he wanted to come with you to the shops after class, since you also needed to stock up on some supplies
That was the day Jason’s walls began crumbling down. Suddenly, he seemed to loosen up. His posture slackened and he smiled more often, told more jokes and even engaged in your banter. People gave the two of you weird looks as you walked around New Rome in fits of laughter, but neither of you cared
Well, not until one fateful day. Jason had been making his way to class with two coffees in hand, one for you and one for himself, when he’d overheard two people deep in conversation. He’d never been one to eavesdrop, but when he heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t help himself
“That poor girl, she has absolutely no idea what she’s getting herself into,” one of them said. The other hummed in agreement, pity laced in his voice
“She thinks she’s doing a good thing, being friends with him and all, but he’s just going to break her heart like he did Reyna’s. Jason Grace is no good.”
He nearly dropped his coffees. Suddenly, all the confidence he’d built came crumbling down, being quickly replaced with those walls he knew all too well, the only things he could trust other than you. Since he loved you so dearly, this was for the best. You’d find some other guy to befriend eventually. If all of Camp Jupiter could replace him after years of service, who’s to say you couldn’t after a couple months of being friends?
Coincidentally, you happened to be looking for Jason when you saw him standing there, a blank look on his face - the same one people had warned you about in your first year at NRU. This time, however, they didn’t have a fighting chance in fooling you. Even without your powers from being Psyche’s daughter, you knew Jason was a sweet guy with the kindest heart
“Jason, are you alright?” You asked, reaching to place a tender hand on his shoulder. He pulled away and your face dropped as you tuned into his feelings and realised the old Jason was making a comeback. It’s not like he’d ever been gone, no one ever gets rid of lifelong trauma and horrible experiences that quickly, but Jason’s aura hadn’t felt that self-loathing in a very long time
Looking behind you, you saw a couple give you a pitying look and the pieces clicked immediately. Scowling at them, you took Jason by the arm and dragged him to that garden where you first spoke. The garden that was no longer just your spot
“Whatever they said, I don’t care,” you told him, “they’re wrong, Jason. You can’t listen to them. From the moment I met you I knew they were wrong. Don’t let them win.” His eyes stared into yours, completely emotionless. His guard was up, and you didn’t know why (slight btd ref!!). Didn’t he trust you?
His voice monotone, Jason replied, “this isn’t just about them, Y/N. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You don’t deserve to have to deal with that, it could affect you too. You could be making so many friends right now and yet you haven’t, because you chose to stick with me.”
The tension rose between you and you knew there was only one thing you could do: succumb to the pull he had on you once and for all. Grabbing him by the collar, you pulled Jason closer to you and kissed him fiercely
When you pulled away, you took a second to take in Jason’s dishevelled look before replying, “I don’t care. I’ll choose to stick with you in every lifetime.”
#jason grace x reader#jason grace x you#jason grace x y/n#jason grace#jason grace x fem reader#pjo#pjo x reader#jason grace fanfic#jason grace drabble#percy jackson x reader#jason grace x psyche reader#daughter of psyche#psyche pjo#cynwrites
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Trope - Disney Princess Syndrome
"Disney Princess Syndrome" is my personal name for the trope of a rich or powerful character portrayed as "Nice", "Good" or "Down to earth". Because they want to hang around "Normal/Real people" and want to be treated like a "Regular person" or otherwise does not think their phenomenal wealth makes them abnormal.
This trope/character concept is usually contrasted against another rich or powerful persons who flaunts their wealth intentionally, is aware they are rich and tends to be snooty, cocky or otherwise act in a manner that is more reflective of their phenomenal wealth.
Usually these characters are contrasted so that we like the former but hate the latter but weirdly… I often find myself either disliking both or liking the latter more. Largely cos they at least seem self aware of their circumstances and so come off as less frustratingly flippant or willfully ignorant.
Examples will be drawn from, Miraculous Ladybug.
I will largely avoid talking about how X character was raised, or trauma that might influence this behavior. But keep in mind people with bad home lives can often act out in ways that don't make them a "good" victim.
In ML, you have "Wants to be a normal boy" Adrien, "Wants to meet sincere people" Princes Ali, and "This is all so artificial" Musician Jagged Stone. They are contrasted against hotel heiress, Mayors daughter & smug about it Chloe.
Now:
Chloe's a brat, a jerk & a snob to be sure, however I still somehow find her less hypocritical or deluded than these other three because at least she seems aware of her circumstances and what they mean for her VS others.
Jagged treats doing a small autograph session with the mayor like its some horrible imposition and he flips out at being expected to follow trends he deems artificial. But he also drags his literal assistant with him everywhere to manage his life, keeps a pet alligator on him at all times & can be extremely rude and demanding. But it never feels acknowledged in the same way as with Chloe, because he's 'real'.
Prince Ali acts like its weird for people to try and charm or otherwise please him when assigned to give him a tour for a whole event about himself. He also seems to neglect what would be fairly typical greetings for someone of his class & position despite likely being taught them. This again ties into making him seem 'genuine' but comes off as just odd.
Adrien balances it best by wanting his father to be less controlling and his father is indeed controlling. But he's also only bothered by Chloe, her parents or his fathers haughty behavior if it alienates him or people he wants to be friends with. He laughs it off or otherwise tends to ignore it with staff but is meant to be better.
This isn't to say a character 'can't' want these things, or find the trappings of wealth utterly unsatisfying. Especially children who are not themselves actually rich and exist at the whims of their parents who are often functionally immune to the law.
Its more an issue with how the trope tends to be executed. Both in terms of the "Disney Princess" who wants to be "Out there" having no self awareness of their wealth, or internal hypocrisy. With this being framed as more endearing than anything, despite often coming off as entitled or selfish by accident.
Or in how the rich jerk just ends up feeling more grounded, or accidentally becomes sympathetic because they are usually an antagonist. Thus meaning they not only have to lose, but usually are surrounded by people like themselves. Leaving the impression their behavior is less to do with having the money to get away with t and more born of mistreatment.
& that as they say is that.
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