#what a judgemental little paragraph
Note
Hello, in fic I've come across mentions of
- the elves stopping frequently on their journey to Aman to have sex (and Orome urging them forward by creating storms?)
- elf sex being too intense for most mortals to survive
I think these come from HoME or NoME (or similar sources), but I've never seen the actual quotes. There might be other things related to elf-sex in there as well.
So I guess my question is: What else did Tolkien mention about elf sex, apart from (the already relatively well-known) LaCE?
Elf Sex Lore
There comes a time in every Tolkien fan’s journey when they come upon the Professor’s writings on Elf sex — and, since 2021, there are even more! Elf Sex Lore remains a hot topic as the fandom continues to experience the aftershocks of the spurt of new lore that came with the publication of The Nature of Middle-earth (NoMe) in 2021.
As you say Anon, before NoMe was published, the fandom’s primary resource on Elf sex was the (in)famous essay Laws and Customs Among the Eldar (LaCE), published in 1993 in Morgoth’s Ring, the tenth volume of the History of Middle-earth series. LaCE is full of juicy (or not-so-juicy) lore about Elven aging, marriage, gender roles, naming, death, and rebirth.
It is in relation to the first two that we get some details on Elf sex, such as the knowledge that “it was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete.” (Laws B). We also learn that:
“…the Eldar say* that in the begetting, and still more in the bearing of children, greater share and strength of their being, in mind and in body, goes forth than in the making of mortal children. For these reasons it came to pass that the Eldar brought forth few children; and also that their generation was in their youth or earlier life, unless strange and hard fates befell them. But at whatever age they married, their children were born within a short space of years after their wedding. For with regard to generation the power and the will are not among the Eldar distinguishable. Doubtless they would retain for many ages the power of generation, if the will and desire were not satisfied; but with the exercise of the power the desire soon ceases, and the mind turns to other things. The union of love is indeed to them great delight and joy, and the ‘days of children’, as they call them, remain in their memory as the most merry in life; but they have many other powers of body and of mind which their nature urges them to fulfil.”
The History of Middle-earth Vol. 10: Morgoth’s Ring, ‘The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II)’, Laws B
*Note how this paragraph is introduced: “the Eldar say”. Phrases like this signal to us that LaCE is not written from a Elvish point of view. There are indications elsewhere clearly pointing to a human author with a human audience in mind.
Translation: Elves use up a lot of energy in baby-making, including in the sex part (“begetting”) but even more in the pregnancy and birthing part (“bearing”), so they don’t have a lot of children and they do so early in life, shortly after marriage. But even if they marry later in life, Elves are still able to have babies because being able to and wanting to reproduce are the same thing for Elves. But once they’ve fulfilled the desire to make babies they’re good and turn to other things. Still, they look back on the time of baby-making as “the most merry in life”.
In most (if not all) cases, when Tolkien writes about sex he is writing about reproduction. Did Elves have sex solely for pleasure? Maybe; I cannot find anything that says they didn’t. I also can find little conceptual separation of sex and reproduction in Tolkien’s writings. Make of that what you will.
(At this point I want to reiterate a principle central to this blog: it’s about presenting what canon says; it is not about casting judgement on creations that subvert, reinterpret, or ignore canon, none of which makes a work lesser than one which adheres strictly to canon.)
So what did NoMe add to our knowledge about Elf sex? First of all, let’s make sure we all know what NoMe is.
What is The Nature of Middle-earth?
NoMe is a volume of texts by J.R.R. Tolkien collected and edited by Carl Hostetter. It is basically a supplement to the last three volumes of The History of Middle-earth (Morgoth’s Ring, The War of the Jewels, and The Peoples of Middle-earth), which cover a period from the late 1950s to his death during which Tolkien was undertaking a rather massive project of worldbuilding, working out the structures underlying his Silmarillion mythology in preparation for revising and publishing what he had written of it before ‘a sequel to The Hobbit’ (LotR) took him away from it for the better part of two decades.
Christopher Tolkien in Morgoth’s Ring called this undertaking “analytic speculation concerning [the] underlying postulates” of his world (Foreword to Morgoth’s Ring). That’s how we end up with essays like LaCE and the philosophical debate about the fates of Men and Elves in Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth.
The texts in NoMe all date to around the same time and deal with the same sorts of questions about the physics and metaphysics of the world: it contains the essay on ósanwë, for example.
The Context of the NoMe Sex Lore
The first section of NoMe, ‘Time and Ageing’, is where we get the new lore on Elf sex. As it happens, the sex lore is rather incidental to extensive ruminations two core questions:
How did Elves experience the passage of time and how did they age?
How did the population of Elves go from 144 at Awaking to a sufficiently high number (around 30 000) when they reached the shores of Beleriand on the Great Journey?
(It is not relevant to get into why 144 and why 30 000 here; suffice to say those are the numbers Tolkien wanted and he expended great imaginative and mathematical energy trying to make them work.)
A note on the textual context: Anyone who has ever engaged in worldbuilding knows how it can go. You think (for example), “Okay, I need to develop a backstory for this character’s spouse,” and before you know it you are knee-deep in invented genealogies and geographies and Eru-knows-what-else.
It’s important to bear in mind that this is what Tolkien was doing. The quotes we are about to look at (yes, very soon!) are from a collection of evolving (and unresolved) notes in various states of refinement from barely legible scribbles to carefully penned essays. I will let you decide what that means to you based on your personal definition of canon, but I wanted the textual context to be clear.
Elf Sex Is Intense
In relation to Question 1, Tolkien considers the time-scales of Elven growth, including pregnancy. In the essay under discussion, Tolkien decides that Elven pregnancy should, like human pregnancy, take about 3/4 of a year. Oh no - not that kind of year. A yên, a ‘long year’, the unit used by the Elves and to which the matter of their bodies (their hröar) is bound. Elves gestate for 108 Sun years.
I know what you’re asking: If the pregnancy lasts 108 years, then how long does the sex last?
No? No! You’re probably asking yourself why Tolkien hated Elf-women so much (don’t worry, he says there’s no pain…)! But Tolkien was interested in the first question, which he answered thus:
“On the other hand the act of procreation, being of a will and desire shared and indeed controlled by the fëa, was achieved at the speed of other conscious and wilful acts of delight or of making. It was one of the acts of chief delight, in process and in memory, in an Elvish life, but its intensity alone provided its importance, not its time or length: it could not have been endured for a great length of time, without disastrous “expense.”” (NoMe, p. 24)
An earlier version of this passage, which you may also come across in fandom, comes to a similar conclusion:
“But the act of procreation not being one of growth until the union of the seed and being under full control of the will does not take long - though it is longer and of more intense delight in Elves than in Men: too intense to be long endured.” (NoMe, pg. 27)
Translation: Pregnancy, like other aspects of physical growth, is a process of the hröa over which the fëa has no control; thus it is bound to unfold on “Elvish time”, i.e. 1 year = 144 years. But the sex leading up to it is an act of the fëa and under its control and therefore occurs at a “normal” speed. The Elves love it, too! But not because of how long it lasts, which is a regular amount of time, but because of how intense it is. In fact, it is so intense that if it were any longer they would suffer “disastrous “expense”.”
What is this “expense”? Basically, it’s referring to the usage of an Elf’s natural “vitality” — far greater than that of Men but not infinite. As far as I can tell, this passage means that having intense Elf sex for too long would have spiritual results similar to Míriel’s bearing of Fëanor, or Fëanor’s creation of the Silmarils. Too much of their spirit would be expended (used up) in the act, with possibly disastrous consequences.
These are the quotes from which, I think, originate the rumour that Elf sex was too intense for mortals to survive. As you can see, the discussion is about Elf/Elf relations. Elf sex is too intense for Elves to endure for too long. Anything about what this means for Elf/Mortal sexual relations is fan conjecture.
That’s the Elf Sex nugget from Tolkien’s considerations of Elven growth rates: Elf sex (between Elves) is intense but of a normal duration.
Elven enthusiasm for baby-making delays March
As you can imagine, more nuggets are unearthed in relation to Question 2, which boils down to Tolkien crying: “I need the Cuiviénen Elves to breed a lot and quickly!”
Initially, Tolkien developed some Elven life cycle schemes that had them taking a leisurely approach to reproduction, with each generation taking many hundreds, even thousands, of Sun years to materialise.
This scheme did not work for getting him from 144 to ~30k in the timeframe he wanted. So, he made some adjustments to the scheme with respect to the timing of Elven maturity and consequent desire to begin reproducing — and then set about getting those Elves procreating!
One of the solutions he entertained was giving the Elves opportunities to reproduce on the Great Journey. He laid all of this out in a timeline (NoME, p. 49-53) detailing where and for how long the host of Elves would pause because of the “desire to beget children” (p. 49).
Reading this timeline, it can become increasingly comical each time this desire to reproduce (i.e., have sex) halts the host. It can start to read like, “The Elves took forever to cross Middle-earth because they couldn’t stop banging!” And, in a way, that is what happened. But bear in mind the context is an attempt at solving the problem of increasing the Elven population to a number Tolkien considered satisfactory for his worldbuilding endeavours. An Elven enthusiasm for sex is there, but it’s not the whole picture.
There are several points on the timeline when Oromë hangs out with the Elves or checks in on them, and he does become increasingly concerned with their begetting-related delays. For example:
“About 2000 pairs (of available Telerin 8th gen. of 4,950) beget children in the spring 1130/80. The Chiefs and Oromë are disturbed.” (NoMe, p. 51)
(“The Chiefs” are Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë.)
And:
“Either by chance, machinations of Sauron, and/or because Oromë withdraws protection (hoping to make the Eldar less content with their new Home (Atyamar), winters are hard and the weather worsens.” (NoMe, p. 51)
The second quote is the origin of that rumour about Oromë creating storms to urge the Elves on because they were having too much sex. Is it canon? Not quite: Oromë didn’t create the storm, for one, and the emphasis is on sex for the pleasure of children more than the pleasure of sex on its own (though, as we know from the previous discussion, sexual pleasure was certainly had!). But the rumour you've heard is not without basis in Tolkien’s notes.
The First Elves Really Loved Sex
There’s one more Elf sex nugget in NoMe that I’d like to end with. While scrambling to get his Cuiviénen Elves reproducing at an adequate rate to reach his population-at-finding target, Tolkien came up with what he calls the “Quick prolific” scheme (p. 99).
“The Quendi in their first few generations before the March (or reaching Valinor) must — as is quite reasonable — be made far more eager for love and the begetting and bearing of children. *They must have larger families, at shorter intervals between births.” (p. 107)
To explain this attitude of reproductive eagerness in the first few generations of Elves, Tolkien coins the term “philoprogenitive” — they love to procreate! Procreating — not artistic and intellectual pursuits or exploration or leadership as with later generations — is their number one priority in life. So much so that “they mated almost at once with their predestined mates” (p. 54).
Not only that, but they have so many babies! In one version of the scheme, 12 children per couple in the first generation (p. 108). (This soon changes to 6 per couple. Philoprogenitive they may be, but no one gets to outdo Fëanor).
As with the highly intense Elf sex and the Great Journey delayed by procreating, this is another bit of NoMe lore with great imaginative potential. As we learn from LaCE, Elves enjoyed sex, quite a bit actually, but they enjoyed a lot of other things also, and after a period of baby-making they would usually move on from sex (though they would always remember it fondly). But the First Elves, those early generations by the shores of Cuiviénen? No such balance between sex and other pursuits. It was all about sex and procreation for them.
Of course, what we’ve been looking at are drafts and notes. While all written around the same time (late 1950s to early 1960s), none of the texts here examined were ever finalised and many of them don’t even agree with each other. Tolkien was experimenting; he was worldbuilding. And with the publication of these notes in NoMe, we in turn get some intriguing ingredients for worldbuilding of our own.
So, do as you like with the Elf sex lore. But if you’re looking for a great setting for some canon-compliant smut, may I suggest Cuiviénen?
Resources
PDF of LaCE
Mythgard Academy’s seminars on The Nature of Middle-earth. You don’t actually have to have read or own NoMe to follow these discussions. Great for getting a handle on the material, and ideal for listening as you work your way through reading.
#nature of middle-earth#history of middle-earth#laws and customs among the eldar#anon#happy valentine's day
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Judgement Call
Summary: You only have 1 job: Don’t let the werewolf out of the basement.
▸ Pairing: werewolf!DK/Seokmin x F!reader
▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp (smut) / established relationship, supernatural
If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.
▸ Warnings: breeding, a bucket of drool, biting
▸ Word Count: 1.2k
▸ A/N: This is my entry for KBCS’s Blood and Bane event! 🐺 The prompt ofc being: breeding kink. Thank you @shuadotcom for your beta services (no pun intended lol) as always!
Read more at the top because grown up words are in the first paragraph.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Dokyeom is a gentle giant with too much self control. Everything about him is oversized. Yet, the way he keeps his palm to the small of your back in public is reassuring. He holds you in your shared bed delicately, as if you’re a baby bird. He fucks you as if every thrust could break you.
Holy shit, you wish he would break you. Just once.
You both know that he could. It’s not that Dokyeom has to set out to either; quite the opposite. Dokyeom is always holding back for fear of hurting you.
As the days bleed together and the nights inch closer and closer to a full moon, he gets a little careless. His canines linger on the fleshy part of your thighs and the pressure teeters on painful. Long digits grip small, purple bruises into your hips. Enormous palms force your legs up to dangle your feet near your head for so long that your hips feel it in the morning.
Then, when the moon has reached its full magnificence for all to witness, Dokyeom is gone. He’s not far; just in the basement actually. You huff and roll your eyes every time your scheduled Rules meeting rolls around, but your boyfriend still insists on reviewing everything thoroughly and consistently.
The Rules:
Double-check the restraints.
Double-check the basement door lock.
Do not investigate any sounds.
Do not come to the basement for any reason before 8am.
Tonight, you exaggerate your pout as you salute him playfully on the landing of the basement stairs. You pout even harder when you step back after locking him in heavy metal wristlets chained to the floor. Dokyeom flashes his signature LED smile and sunny “love you”. It doesn’t make you any less upset about having to lock him away, but you’re forgiving enough to just go along with it.
What Dokyeom isn’t aware of is that you’re also forgiving enough to take whatever he dishes out when you head downstairs in nothing but a nightgown and a key around your neck at half past midnight.
You only make it halfway down the stairs when the chains rattle, then clang as they’re pulled taut. A cautious, deep rumble from Dokyeom’s chest cuts through the darkness. When you reach the bottom and flick the lightswitch on, he’s only a few feet from the steps – it’s as close as he can get with the cuffs on.
Crimson eyes stare you down, unblinking and predatory as Dokyeom’s gaze roots you to the spot. You should be worried and you should be fearful and you should go upstairs, but when you look past his fangs and claws, there’s an unmistakable tent in his basketball shorts that makes the sensible part of your brain shut down immediately.
“Out.” Your boyfriend's voice is deeper and so much more gravelly than you would have expected. It’s as if he hasn’t spoken in eons and nearly forgot which language he speaks.
One thing’s for sure: his tone is speaking directly to your pussy.
“Out!”
Dokyeom growls again, straining against the chains as you disrobe where you stand, skin instantly pebbling with goosebumps from the draft. His expression keeps changing in a kaleidoscope of contradicting emotions, but it’s clear which one wins out the second you dare to enter his personal bubble.
The hook of Dokyeom’s nails threatens to puncture as his fingers curl around your wrist and yank you toward him. It’s not exactly tender, but he’s reasonably careful as he lowers your down onto the blanket – the only “amenity” here, at his request – so you’re laid bare beneath him. The two of you stay frozen, Dokyeom panting above you as he scrutinizes every inch of your body.
It’s not until your hand reaches to cup the side of his face that he lets go. He leans into the touch before mouthing your hand, leaving a trail of drool in your palm. There’s no time to complain – he’s got to be only half-listening at best, anyway – with how he’s yanked your legs apart so he can slot himself in to rut against your cunt sloppily.
Dokyeom was not small to begin with, but his bulge is noticeably bigger now. Is it harder, too? Is that possible? Yes and yes, you confirm as you (barely) manage to slide your hand between your bodies and catch the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down to expose his hips.
A shaky, high-pitched sigh/whine lets you know how much he appreciates the gesture as he lines his tip up with your weeping entrance. Dokyeom is physically shaking as he does so, eyes screwed shut as he begins to enter as slowly as he can bear. The bliss of your heat keeps his mouth hanging open in a silent groan, letting more saliva fall from the gape like a faucet that douses the link between your bodies.
If you’d had a chance to study his cock as it is now, there’s a good chance you would have chickened out. With your hubris and his reduced impulse control, though, you make it work. Once he’s fully inside of you, you’re only given a few seconds before he’s thrusting. Dokyeom’s cock fills you deep, deep, deeper than you’ve ever felt before. In your daydreams, you’d pictured yourself full, yet still dainty, arms above your head as you sigh with pleasure. In reality, you barely sound human yourself as you hiss and yelp beneath him while the shape of his cock projects itself in the pouch of your lower belly, clawing at his sides because he’s too wide to even get your arms around him in this form.
Dokyeom has never been shy about letting you know how good you feel, but he’s so vocal like this. You know he’s close, even without words. Grunts smooth themselves into whimpers and growls slip into the beginnings of a howl.
You’re close too and you tell him so, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at first. The way you ragdoll in Dokyeom’s grasp as he suddenly hoists you up by the waist to fuck into you harder would be comical if you could see yourself, but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your skull. He pins you down with his full weight, nearly taking the wind out of you as his thrusts become short and sharp.
He rests his lips on your shoulder, breath almost searing as he murmurs, “Love you, breed you.” It’s not clear if he’s asking or telling you, honestly, but you wouldn’t be here in this moment if that mattered to you.
Dokyeom is yours and you are his. It’s sealed when you cum on his cock and he drives into you one last time, howl muffled into your shoulder as fangs compress and then perforate your delicate skin. It should hurt and you’ll certainly need to patch yourself up later, but the pain only pushes you deeper into euphoria as he floods your pussy with hot cum.
Just like when you started, the two of you suspend your movements, catching your breath. This is the part where you both come down together and Dokyeom pulls you into his chest lovingly.
There’s just one little detail you didn’t consider in your excitement leading up to tonight: Werewolf Dokyeom doesn’t just want to breed you; he has to. And one session is simply not enough to get the job done.
#kbcshallo2023#svthub#kvanity#dk svt#dokyeom#seokmin#dk x reader#dokyeom x reader#seokmin x reader#dk smut#dokyeom smut#seokmin smut#seventeen smut#svt smut#dk fic#dokeyom fic#seokmin fic#svt fic#seventeen fic
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Yandere Rise Donatello Designer AU
okay, hear me out.
let me give context for this concept idea first (you could skip the next paragraph if you don't care, i'm just weird, i promise i start discussing the concept right after this next paragraph trust me)
i am a huge fan of this one designer in new york, bella pietro, her work is amazing. i was able to attend her bridal line debut fashion show in person this past sunday and got to speak with her very briefly. she's very lovely, relatable, super down to earth, and humble. she is also one of the influences for my own jewellery line, but this isn't the point i'm making, i'm going insanely off topic. i thought about what it would be like being a clothes designer in nyc.
donatello is the founder and ceo (at least, that's canonically what i'm led to believe) of Genius Built Technologies. it's also canon he designs Genius Built Apparel. i initially had this idea and shared it on discord a while back based around donnie being a member of a discord server with other designers. these designers usually joined said server for creativity, support, sharing each others' work, and giving critiques when wanted.
imagine you, an up-and-coming designer, join this server to gain more reach. while donnie was bored looking at others' designs and critiquing them harshly when asked to, he admired your work and advocated for you so that you could gain more popularity. the two of you accepted each other's friend requests and started talking in dms. he admired your work and thought it was cute how you were slowly rising in the industry, but you needed the right connections to actually get things going. you started getting seamstresses and a manager, but that took your time away from donnie.
donnie might have found out you lived in new york, that was when he suggested a meet-up for a collaboration. he was excited when you said yes, and a GB Apparel x For You line was in the works for when the two of you started discussing potential pieces. your crew got a little upset when you put all your attention on the collaborative project, especially your manager, and they thought it was a bad idea. you thought about listening to them and backing away to work on the collab line in the future. donnie... didn't really like that.
he loved spending time with you, as hard as it was for him to admit it. he adored the way you drew your designs, the face you made when you focused and shrimped over your tablet to get the details just right. he told you to adjust your posture, and you did it with a stretch, you ran your fingers through your hair he so badly wanted to run his fingers through instead. donnie hated the thought of having that taken away from him. once you told him you wanted to file away the collaborative project for another time, he managed to manipulate and gaslight convince you into believing your manager has the wrong idea, because his own brand was well known and high quality.
you hesitantly agreed with him and your crew began getting a distaste for you when you arrived late to meetings, made decisions with poor judgement, and delayed your own projects in favour of working with donatello instead. what you didn't know is that donnie anonymously emailed them all to quit their jobs with you because you were practically not working with them anymore. your crew moved on to work with other local designers. you didn't think much of it, you were aware people in this business would come and go, they would find other people to work for and it's no big deal, because you could sew your designs yourself.
besides, donatello had been a big help, he lent you his sewing machines that literally sewed by themselves. your own fall line had been presented on a runway at a moderately sized venue, a team curated by donatello organised it as if he were your manager. everyone on the server the two of you met on barely showed their support at first, until you got incoming praises and compliments from everyone after donatello's worship of you was sent in the runway channel. you were unaware to the fact that donatello threatened everyone with their careers if they didn't support you.
everyone seemed beginning to dislike you, your fans acknowledged that it didn't seem to be you at fault because your head was still held up high, staying positive and thanking anyone who bothered to take a look at your collection. donatello was working behind the scenes to isolate you as much as possible. he didn't want anyone taking you away from him because you were his precious fashion genius, your ideas complement his. that's why GB Apparel x For You is going to rock the fashion world, he had thought, deep in his delusions of spending more time with you. one look at you and it had his heart beating out of his chest.
your workspace in his apartment was a mess, fabrics everywhere, sketchbooks and a couple tablets (courtesy of Genius Built Technologies) with plenty of space for designs and you sat on the floor with your hair a mess and new glasses (those were courtesy from donatello himself) on your face after staring at the screens for so long. the softshell simply watched you work, enamoured and savouring the way you find his apartment more comfortable to work in because yours is already so cluttered.
donatello was so proud to see the results of your collaboration, he kissed the top of your head and held you close. you've had affectionate friends before, but you had only intimately known donnie for a few months. sure, he was one of the turtles that saved new york years ago, not to mention his brand even climbed up the ranks for a place in paris fashion week alongside balenciaga and valentino... so you knew him... but you didn't ask for this. you used to have more friends, lovely colleagues. whatever happened to that ?
of course, once the collab line debuted in the spring you went back to work, you designed a men's fall line you thought would grab people's attention. it certainly snatched donatello's, when he called you frequently and realised you were parting from him to work on your own, it pissed him off. he wanted to know what you were hiding. you hesitantly let him in on a day when you were being interviewed by april for press, dressed up for photography and not for him. you're only for him, no one should see you except when you're beside him. he lashed out at you in front of april, upset that you weren't telling him your plans since the GB Apparel x For You collaboration, and april took notes of the drama. not for press purposes at all, but to tell his brothers.
you didn't see donatello for a while after that, to which you were glad. you felt a weight finally slipped off your shoulders as you rebuilt your community. people didn't know that donatello was the one at fault for your darkest moments. you rebuilt your community over the course of a year, making new connections and finally making it into new york fashion week all by your own efforts, not by donatello's.
it was when he showed up at your door everything went downhill again. he pushed his way back into your life, asking for a spring GB Apparel x For You line even though he already started on his own designs, incorporating style that you would add due to how well he already knew you. over the year he had been gone, he watched how you grew and connected with other people in the soho fashion scene. the thought made his skin crawl. it irked him to know you were out and about, perhaps having dinner with your new manager, or spending hours at a time with your new seamstresses after you threw out the sewing machines he so lovingly gifted to you.
all he wanted was to share his world with you, have you live in lavish luxury like you deserve. you said no. you already had ideas for your spring line which would be presented in london along with new york, you didn't have time to collaborate with him. donnie threw another tantrum in your apartment, this time feeling a lot more destructive. he threw your decorations everywhere, then held up some of your supplies to set them on fire. it scared you into submission, telling him yes, putting off your own projects to move into his apartment and get to working with him on the next collab line.
things were different this time. donatello was a lot more clingy, literally working alongside you as the two of you designed the thirty-piece collection, he made gentle suggestions and leaned in close, added and subtracted things on what you already drew. the two of you had ordered takeout sometimes and he would be the only one allowed to receive the food. you felt trapped. there was nothing you could do about it, just accept your fate.
you disappeared off the tabloids, no one knew where you went, not even april. donnie kept you away for his eyes only, wrapping his arms around you at every chance he got, nuzzling into your neck from behind as you tried to break through the parental locks donatello placed on your tablets. that won't work, darling, he said, a smirk on his face you could feel against your skin. it made you sick, your stomach churning at the thought that you might stay in your captor's arms forever.
#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rottmnt writing#rise donatello#rise donnie x reader#rise donatello x reader#donnie x reader#donatello x reader#rottmnt x reader#yandere rise donnie#yandere donnie#no beta we die like gram gram#angst#dark content#jules' thoughts
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[“put that down! you’ll hurt yourself with that.” / “you’re so pretty when you smile.”]
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
ೃ⁀➷: summary: idia bought a new multiplayer game, and he wants to play it with his player one, you.
ೃ⁀➷: word count: 2.3k (2334)
ೃ⁀➷: reference/Inspiration: playlist
ೃ⁀➷: event: [200 followers event]
[author's note:] JDJDKD MORE IDIA CONTENT WOOHOOO this was supposed to be his belated birthday gift from me but uhh cough cough writer block hit me like a bitch soo.. didn't finish before new years, and it's now like- 4 months late??? anyways, thank you anon for requesting idia with dialogue #3 and #7!! my last yandere idia work had him a little creepy so i made him cute this time loll i hope it's to your satisfaction anon!
[warnings:] lowercase, yandere behavior, more fluff than yandere, established relationship, reader is a gamer, cuddling, kisses, reader is ticklish, poor explanation of game mechanics, mentions of fear for judgement, reader is portrayed as a crybaby, one paragraph mentions idia being a creep, game is a rip-off of minecraft (fantasy version), toxic teammates.
[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. i don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. if you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, i am not responsible for your actions from here on out.
[GN reader]
IDIA SHROUD seemed to be in a good mood today, at least according to what you've seen so far. probably because his latest purchase is the cause of his being in such an upbeat mood. not that you're complaining; it was rather cute seeing him all excited and giddy when he found a new game to play. it's like a whole new, different side of him comes out whenever he starts to ramble about the features of the game and why he should absolutely play it right now. of course, as his player one, you're automatically going to be the first person he's going to play with. not that you mind, really. playing with idia was always a fun experience; it reminded you a lot of how you would spend your free time back in your world.
(those days of laziness, those days of unproductivity where you did nothing but lay down on your bed and do nothing—no school work to do, no club activities to do, no studying for an upcoming exam—just pure idleness. then when you're bored, you could just use your phone, PC, or iPad to entertain you as the day goes by, playing nonstop until late hours in the evening. god, you miss those days.)
you often wondered what genre of video games this new world had to offer. you knew that it wouldn't be so different from your own world, but you weren't sure just how many of your friends were affiliated with gaming entertainment. out of fear that judgement would be placed upon you if you shared this interest of yours, your love for video games has been hidden—so to find someone else (with that someone else being idia) that likes video games and is very well versed in them is a dream come true. it was a long process to get him to play with you, let alone consider you a friend and not try to avoid you every 2 seconds—still, it was a feat you were proud of because now you get to experience many, many different sides of idia that you would have never known 9 months ago.
(you once heard idia curse like at least twenty times in one breathe when one of his teammates was being shitty and a prick, he sounded so angry and scary that you backed into a corner to avoid getting burnt by his scorching, bright red hair that grew the more angrier he got. the only reason he stopped was when he heard quiet sobs in the corner of his room and turned around away from his computer to see you huddled in the corner of his room. quickly he went over there, completely abandoning his game and comforting you. he hates seeing his cute prefect cry, especially because of him, he's not the great at comforting but when he hugged you so tightly, your quiet sobs turned into silence. right then and there he swore to never be the reason you're crying and when you do, he'll be right there with you.)
you are currently cross-sitting in his very comfy bed, watching as idia set up two controllers and plugged in the PCs to turn them on (you're still surprised he's got more than 2 PCs, which, if you really think about it, his family background makes it make sense). after waiting for the PCs to turn on, he then connects the controllers to the PCs and opens up the game on both screens. you would insist on helping him set up, but due to you literally being isekai'd into this unknown world of twisted wonderland, you aren't too familiar with many things besides the whole magic stuff—plus, you aren't too keen on breaking any of idia's stuff because of your lack of knowledge on how to do technology.
(technology in general is so extremely confusing, you would argue wholeheartedly all day and all night, and idia would agree with you and low-key flex on how knowledgeable he is in the field of technology, just to impress you and show how reliable he is. secretly, he likes it when he's useful to you.)
"sorry! it took a while to set up..." in slightly shaking hands, he hands over the controller to you while holding the other in his free hand. he looked rather nervous when he faced you to give the controller, like he's worried he wasted your time waiting for him. it reminded you of a puppy looking up to its owner apologetically when they did something wrong, so cute, you thought, adorable even, you added.
"haha! it's okay! you didn't take that long anyway." you gave him a reassuring look, a soft smile, and bright eyes, showing him that you weren't bothered by having to wait a bit as he set up for you two to play.
both screens show the in-game loading screen, and the bar quickly fills up due to the fast internet speed (one you're quite envious of). slowly it fades to the starting screen, where a big text is bouncing 'tap to start' in both of your faces. Idia presses to start immediately, wanting to get into gameplay as fast as he can while you take a moment to admire the visual aspects and effects of the game in silent awe. you always had a thing for the visual stuff that was shown in-game. by slowly pressing the button on your control, you enter the game and begin a fantastical journey with idia.
“put that down! you’ll hurt yourself with that.” he says worriedly as he watches you damage your avatar's HP bar this early in gameplay. usually he gets really annoyed when he plays with noobs and normies; they stink at comprehending basic knowledge, do dumb things in-game, ask too many questions, and ruin the whole gameplay experience for him. 'ugh, how annoying.' is his usual reaction to such—of course he wouldn't think of that towards you! never ever would he ever think this way towards you; even if you do things noobs and normies usually do, he can't bring himself to be annoyed—you were too cute in his eyes. he would never admit this to your face, though, and he still gets red just at the thought of him thinking you are cute. It's true though; don't get him wrong, but... the embarrassment that comes with thinking about these thoughts is just too much for his poor little heart! honestly, he's for sure that one day you'll be the death of him, does he care though? not really; in fact, he would probably love that.
(he blushes so hard whenever he thinks of you in his clothes; it's the way your natural scent clings onto his shirts, the way his shirts made you even cuter than you already are—one of the only reasons he doesn't wash his clothes immediately because he wants to savor your smell to memory. he's a creep, yes, but he's one devoted creep.)
"whoops! sorry didn't see that, haha..." nervously laughing at your mistake, you eat whatever consumable you have in your inventory to try and restore as much health as you lost. as your avatar munches on the food in its hand, from the corner of your screen, you can see idia's avatar walking towards you. once it's near enough to your avatar, you can see the animation of a bunch of items being dropped and your inventory picking up due to the proximity between the items and your avatar. you opened your inventory, curious about what he just gave you since it looked like quite a lot of items, and confused about why he was giving you so many items in the first place. your eyes widen in shock as the items he's given you are one stack of steak, every weapon in-game (sword, axe, pickaxe, shovel, hoe), but in steel, and a full set of steel armor.
your mouth continues to gape open as you put on the armor set on your avatar. how did he get so much stuff this fast? it hasn't even been an hour yet! "where.. did you get so much stuff!?" you ask naively, following idia around as you don't want to get lost, die, and lose all your stuff. "stole half of those from villages, some from mining, and a few from trading" he says so casually as he continues to walk in an unknown direction, like this was a regular thing for him, not to mention this was a hard difficulty! he's playing this game like it's not easy mode! "could've gotten more if it weren't for those stingy mobs..." furrowing his eyebrows, he let out a small huff of frustration, pressing slightly harder on the buttons on his controller, not noticing how your mouth dropped down even further at his passing comment. as she presses on, walking in an unknown direction, you're hit with the hundredth reminder that he's on a whole other level than you when it comes to gaming.
three hours in, and you guys decided to play on public servers, where you'll get to play different game modes other than the usual story and survival modes. once the two of you picked a game to play, the room quickly filled with laughter, shouting, incoherent grumbling, screams of terror, and many more in between. you two decided to save a team game as last since idia wasn't enthusiastic about playing together with other players because he just wanted to play with you, and there was an underlying fear that you would encounter toxic teammates. but since you were practically begging him to just try it at least once, he couldn't help but give in to your pleas.
it was fun, he supposed. it wasn't as annoying or infuriating as he thought it would be, but he still had to keep up not making really snarky remarks when certain players were interacting with you. he'd hate to have you see such a mean, ugly, and disgusting side of him. other than that, it was an okay experience. he thinks it would've been better if it was just him and you on a team; wouldn't it be kind of romantic? you and him against everyone else?
then what he feared most would happen actually happened. suddenly some fucking jerk is screaming insults at you for not being good enough, and before that teammate got two more words in, he exploded on them. curses upon curses spit out his mouth in rapid speed, and the voices of that said teammate slowly but surely die down as their ego and pride go down with them. in the midst of anger and chaos between him and the teammate, you could feel tears building up inside you; everything around you started to blur, and the sounds that filled your ears were starting to get tuned out. you couldn't even hear that idia stopped screaming curses, turned off both PCs, and went to take the controller from your hand, lift you up into his lap, and slowly wrap his arms around you.
once he had you fully in his grasp, he tightened his grip, making sure not to let you get away from him. he wasn't good at words, especially when trying to comfort someone, but seeing you cry was making him cry too. he did, after all, swear to always be with you when you cry. raising one of his hands, he placed it at the back of your head and gently pushed towards his neck. then his hand went down to rub your back, up and down, up and down, at a slow pace. letting you cry it all out in peace while also letting you know he's there with you.
a few minutes have passed, and your sobs have gone silent. your eyes have become droopy and sleepy, and it feels almost impossible to keep them open. suddenly, a hand lifts your chin, and you feel a pair of lips come into contact with your forehead. it wasn't like a quick kiss; no, the kiss lasted for at least a few seconds before pulling away. even then, upon pulling away, you feel another kiss on your cheek, this time a little quicker than the forehead kiss. then another kiss on your other cheek, then another on your nose, another on your jawline, another on your earlobes, and finally, his lips hovered over your own lips.
you could feel the hesitation when he let out a nervous breath; the thought of your lips on his always sends him into an electrifying and drunken daze. he can't think straight when he's this close to you, but even then, it gives him an unusual feeling of contentment and confidence. the luck he has to be able to snag such an adorable, cute, amazing, and beautiful person like you in his life. he almost can't believe it. swallowing his own nervousness for your comfort, he presses against your soft lips delicately. soon after making physical contact with your lips, he feels a smile form on your face—a small smile, yet it was enough for him. any smile from you is enough for him, because seeing you happy is the best view he could ever lay his eyes on.
feeling out of breath, he's the first to let go but also the first to frown at the loss of touch. i want to stay like this forever, he thought as he watched you emit a giggle after the kiss. fire burns brightly in his heart, and he starts to wonder if you being the death of him will really come true. his cheeks burn that ever-warm red that he knows you've seen many, many times before, but he can't help it. when you pull him into a world through rose-tinted glasses, no way could he be immune to such an effect.
"i really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? you’re so pretty when you smile."
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.
#event💌#200 followers💌#200 followers event💌#Yandere event💌#200 followers yandere event💌#Yandere twisted wonderland#Yandere twst#Twisted wonderland#Twst#Yandere twisted wonderland x reader#Yandere twst x reader#Twisted wonderland x reader#Twst x reader#Twisted wonderland Idia Shroud#Yandere twisted wonderland Idia Shroud#Twst Idia shroud#Yandere twst Idia Shroud#Twisted wonderland Idia Shroud x reader#Yandere twisted wonderland Idia Shroud x reader#Twst Idia Shrouad x reader#Yandere twst Idia Shroud x reader#Idia Shroud x reader#Idia x reader#Yandere Idia Shroud x reader#Yandere Idia x reader#┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Yandere#⭒❃.✮:▹One-shot#gender neutral reader
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if you're a radfem (or feminist in general) chances are you're dealing with these: repressed anger and the effects of gaslighting
if you're exhausted a lot (without strenuous physical activity and lack of sleep), find yourself having outbursts of strong emotion, feeling desperate for a form of escape, fantasizing about drastic measures, anxious and "forgetful" about memories you have, nervous about speaking about your experiences . . .
here's some tricks on how i've been coping:
-boundaries. if you can cut off people (irl or online) that cause you to spiral into hate, frustration, anger at their ignorance/malice, do it. even if it's a musician whose one song you like. or your brother or dad. limit time as much as possible with them. the less access they have, the less relevant they become, the more energy you conserve.
-do art! create something, it doesn't matter what it is. express those emotions! make sure you're doing it in a judgement-free zone. it's important you don't become a critic at this time. do messy, honest art (sometimes i write short scenes of gay/lesbian characters to cope with the homophobia in my life, and it makes me feel MUCH better and less cynical, sometimes you need to create beauty to remember it exists in the world)
-get out! get out into nature, if you can. if you can't immerse yourself in some form of it. try watching a potted plant for a while or watch insects. take interest in the mundane aspects of life. see that leaf curl? that ant? you're part of that. when you see the clouds, remember they are part of the cycle. the earth grows into its beauty as you do. the moon is the sky's cycle tracker. you belong to this world. you belong in it. this is your home. revel in it.
-if you can, and if you want to, hang out with animals. animals are great companions with none of the misogyny, internalized or otherwise! they don't mind if you cry, either. seriously, if you need non-draining, non-complicated companionship, animals are a good option. it's also good to remember you're a simple animal sometimes, with simple needs. sometimes all you need is a nice belly rub and a little treat.
-cultivate female friendships where it's safe to rant and also not all about ranting. your friendships should be a comfort, not a chore. you need irl community. if you can access it at this time, if you can find a way to cultivate it, please do. it may save you
-it is okay to enoy things despite the evil in the world. you don't have to be an activist 24/7. go watch your favorite movie. listen to your favorite comedian. and let down your guard while you're enjoying that little something. it's important you don't fall into analyzing things.
-for the gaslighting, start having conversations where you make it explicitly clear that you want the other party to ONLY listen. also, JOURNAL, even if it's just a paragraph or two sentences. write down the small important facts of your day. you'll either build a more reliable memory or come to see how reliable your memory is. just don't hang out with people that are constantly testing you. that is not an environment where you develop healthy trust in yourself.
-fight back! these are some ways to heal from the bruising of the world, but honestly? you need to acknowledge how RIGHT and GOOD your anger is. and one of the best ways to do that is to fight back! do something that addresses part of the injustice your heart is screaming about. it doesn't have to be big, it just needs to help someone and address the situation. address the alarms in your brain telling you something isn't right and you have to do something about it. scratch that itch! do that something. you will feel really good
please feel free to add any other tips you guys may have for cultivating joy, hope and energy, because we don't have to be miserable while/for doing the right thing
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1000+ followers / Commissions
What's up, everyone!
First of all, the follower count for this blog seems to be glitched, so I'm only 95% sure that the following paragraph is correct. But anyway...
This blog has reached and surpassed 1000 followers, which is kinda insane. Never really expected this collection of my weird little stories would get a large following, and certainly not this fast. And I'm so damn grateful for that.
Especially for all the positive messages you bros sent me. It's such a great feeling when you realize there's a whole community of people that share interests and kinks with you. Thanks for every DM, it's really cool to see a notification about a new message, appreciate that very much.
So I come here with gratitude. Thanks for all the support bros, stay tuned for what's coming next! There are quite a few hot (in my personal opinion) ideas sitting in my drafts, there are sequels and longer stories and more musky jocks and soldiers coming.
I also come here with a proposition.
I am now doing writing commissions - if you would like me to write a story for you, you now have the option to make your wish a reality.
If you are interested, please contact me (through DMs) and tell me what you have in mind. We'll work together and figure out the details. But before we begin, please read the details below first.
What I will write about:
Of course, I am most comfortable with the stuff I've been writing about already - please check out my writing to see exactly what that entails. My interests include jocks, cops, soldiers as well as transformations, mental change, identity change, muscle growth or mind control.
But I am open to other stuff, although in that case I'd like for you, the person commissioning the work, to be more prepared to provide me with the kinds of details you'd like me to include in your story. I will not be able to help you figure the details out as well as with themes I'm more used to.
When writing to me, please be... fairly specific. Come with more than one sentence. If you want to give me a vague idea, you can just send me an ask. Try to also approximate the length of the story, check out my other writing to get a sense of how much detail and story can fit into 500 words.
What I will not write about:
These are my red lines - things, themes, kinks I will not write about because I'm not comfortable working with them. This is not a value judgement - I am not saying that any of those things are bad, that you should feel bad if you get off to stories that include them. With that in mind, the list includes:
Feminization/main focus on female characters
Bathroom stuff (watersports, scat, etc.)
Excessive violence, torture, rape etc.
Chastity
Real celebrities
Feet
Underage (duh)
Inflation/excessive size
This list is not exhaustive, and I reserve the right to say no to your proposal.
And about explicit writing: for now I will not write stories that include explicit scenes, that is characters fucking, you know what I mean. The reasons for this are twofold: I'm not sure in my ability to deliver writing that will be satisfactory in that regard AND it is a grey area when it comes to taking payments for that type of content. So for now its a no, bros.
Pricing:
My base rate is 3 EUR for every 100 words. That translates to 15 EUR for 500 words, 30 words for 1000 words, and so on.
The payment is upfront, the size of which will be decided before I begin writing based on what you'll want and what we will decide your idea needs. The payment will be made through the "commission" section of my Ko-Fi page (https://ko-fi.com/mrrharper). You can also go there and see if I'm accepting new commissions (I will set the number of free slots there and update it).
Other information:
Please, take into account that I have a life outside of Tumblr. I have a family and friends to foster relations with, classes to go to, papers to write. Because of this I might not be able to answer within seconds or complete your story as fast as you would expect or want to, and I ask you to take that into consideration.
After the work is finished I will provide you with the full file containing the story in a format of your choosing (but remember that I'm not paying for any professional word processing software).
I might want to one day post your commission on my blog (with credit). If you'd like for me to not do that, or not credit you, please tell me.
That's it for now, don't be surprised if I add (or ask for) some more details as we talk.
The Ko-Fi page is also open to one-off and monthly donations, if you really want to support me. I will really appreciate every single donation, but please - DO NOT feel pressured to support me financially. You reading my stories, liking and following, is completely enough.
Thanks for everything bros! See ya soon and Fly Eagles Fly!
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How do find all those gems of fics because you have incredible taste im so serious
Hi! Aw, you are very sweet to say so, thank you! I freely admit that I have very specific tastes, but I know what I'm about and I'm recommending fics that I know I would enjoy, so it's a list perfectly tailored to what I want to see in fandom!
As for a semi-serious answer about how to find the fic you want to read, it's sort of a collection of little tricks:
1 - Read a lot of fic. The more you read, the more you'll find that you like, and the more you'll develop a sense for finding what you want to read faster!
2 - Be willing to give up on a fic that's just not for you. The number of times a fic has gotten better after hitting one of my personal warning signs has been so low that now I almost never both to keep reading. If a fic says attachment and love are the same thing, good luck with your fic, author, but I'm out right then and there. If a fic crosses into Bad Dad Bruce territory, you're perfectly valid author, but I'm out right on the spot. If I don't vibe with the formatting or style (I need every new speaker/thinker to be in a new paragraph, I need reasonable sized paragraphs, etc.), I drop the fic and move on to the next. If a summary seems like it has the type of fanon that doesn't hit my id, I keep scrolling.
This isn't a value judgement, those fics are fine! They're just not meant for me. But it means I have more time to move on to the next fic, rather than frustrating myself by trying to vibe with something that's just never going to be for me. If I change my mind later, I can always come back, but honestly this has allowed me to find a lot more fic that is for me, if I'm not spending time on something that I don't vibe with.
3 - I will sort by kudos to get started in finding authors to begin reading when I first start, but after that I'm heading to the bookmarks of authors I liked, filtering by "Other work tags to include" to find what I'm really looking for (usually a specific relationship), and start opening up fic. When you find another author you like, repeat the process!
4 - Check out when other people do rec lists, too! Like, I've picked up fic from @cacchieressa and @fantastic-nonsense in DC fandom, as they both do recs fairly often, or I'll do a search for whatever character I'm looking for on tumblr, like "search/dick grayson fic recs", and if something sounds interesting, I'll drop it onto my reader. (I hope I can give back in this way, too, I would love to help others find fic to read and if that inspires making a recs list, that would be great, too!)
5 - I do go through certain tags every night (I go through the Dick & Bruce tag every night, I go through the Anakin Skywalker tag every night, sometimes I'll go through the Jedi Culture Appreciated tag, etc.) and see what catches my attention that's new today, or I'll do a search by kudos and hit up the 300 to 500 number of kudos fics, the ones that are smack in the middle to find more authors that are often really good (which I will then hit up their back catalogue and their bookmarks).
Basically, just figure out what really makes your motor run when it comes to fic, whether a favorite character, a favorite relationship, a favorite trope, and you'll naturally just start reading so much that you'll find a ton of fic you like. But also, seriously, hit up authors' bookmarks, if you like their writing, chances are good you'll like their taste in reading, too!
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Somewhere Only We Know 9/9
Notes: This chapter is a little bit different from all the others :) It takes on someone else's point of view. There's going to be an epilogue after this but it'll only be about a paragraph. I just couldn't fit it in this post.
Taglist: @shepgurl, @unicorngirly1, @bellgraves, @lily-lily131313, @sharksausages
Triggers: Lots of triggers in this one. Mentions of torture, dubcon, mentions of suicide/self-harm, brainwashing, mentions of harm during pregnancy, physical abuse, etc.
-1 year later
This is going to be a burn after writing kind of thing. And believe me when I say that I will burn after writing. I just need to get this all out. I don’t have anyone to really talk to about this kinda shit. I sure can’t talk to Val about it. She’s got more than enough on her plate. Shepherd I could talk to but he’s dead.
We have a 3-month old little boy. His name is Everett Lucas Graves. 8 pounds 8 ounces when he was born. I thought about making him a junior but I would rather not make him easy for my enemies to find.
I never thought I’d ever have kids. I certainly never really planned on it. Sure it had crossed my mind. But not in detail. But anyway it’s three in the morning and Val is asleep. So is Rett. He loves to sleep and he must get that from his mother because I have the worst time sleeping. I figured this would be the best time to get all this out.
It's been a journey and while right now it’s gorgeous it hasn’t always been pretty. I know a lot of people look at me as a bad person and that’s because I am. I’m a mercenary and I kill people for money. My company and I, Shadow, just do it within the confines of the United States now. No more overseas missions. For now, anyway. I miss the overseas stuff. Maybe when Rett is older. Maybe.
The main topic of this…whatever this is…is gonna be Val. We met when I was first introduced to 141 and I honestly can’t describe what I felt when I first saw her. I fucking wanted her. I wanted to tell her “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life” because she was gonna be mine. Forever. And she still is going to be. I’m never going to let her go. I can’t explain it. It was an instant connection. I had to have her. And a weird thought popped into my head. It was the first time I even thought about having kids: that woman is gonna be the mother of my children if I want them.
I probably should have used better judgement and shouldn’t have had sex with her for the first time when she was halfway drunk. I wasn’t sober either, to be fair. But as soon as I tasted her…as soon as I was inside her…it was instant addiction. There’s no other way to describe it. She was American, like me, but just so fucking exotic. Valdez, wherever that last name came from. She didn’t know. She grew up in foster care. I yanked her records. I know she’d probably smack me if she ever found out but do you know why she grew up in foster care? Her parents had a habit of fucking selling her.
Anyway, At least a few times a week we’d meet up. Deep down my values and morals would whisper and tell me I was halfway raping her because I was her superior. But she wanted it just as much as I did. You’re just gonna have to take my word for it. Hell, she sought me out a couple of times. She was just as hooked as I was.
That’s one of the things that made Las Almas so damn difficult. But I had to follow orders. I had to. I didn’t have a choice. I still remember that earlier that same day Val had come to me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her what Shepherd had told me: that I was to take control over the mission from 141 later that night.
But I couldn’t. I looked into her eyes and I couldn’t. And I remember that that afternoon was the first time I made love to her. Up until then it had been just…fucking.
Later that night after I had told 141 about me taking over she’d looked at me with such disgust and anger that…to be honest I wanted to fucking smack that look off her face and tell her to respect me, that this was all for the better, couldn’t she see?
I’d been planning on taking her with me anyway but she toppled over that barrier and into that wooded area before I could get my hands on her. My men were told to find all of them. But to bring Val, on her fucking knees, back to me. I was so fucking livid she’d walked away from me.
And when she put up a fight as I tried to ask her questions that stormy night in Las Almas I got even more irritated and felt even more betrayed.
I shouldn’t have done what I did. I shouldn’t have tortured her. Shepherd hadn’t even really given any orders outside of recapturing 141 at the point we started interrogating Val in that torn up warehouse. I just wanted to scare her. I was so sure she’d come to my side and just give me an idea as to where 141 was.
And when she didn’t, I lost it. God, I lost it. I started humiliating her in front of Shadow. They already knew we’d been sleeping together but I’d made her sound like a slut. And then she called me a war criminal. Which I’ve come to realize since then I am. But back then I didn’t want to come to terms with that.
It was the first time I’d hit her. Ever. It was the first time I’d ever hit a woman. And it only got worse from there. I asked…well no…if I’m honest…I demanded she call 141. She said no. And…
Ugh it’s so hard to go through all this shit again. But if it’s hard for me I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Val to have to go through it, experience it, live it, suffer it. Sometimes she still wakes up screaming.
But when she said no I used my gun to hit her across the face so hard I left a scar on her face. It’s a scar I can still see. Even in low lighting. It reminds me of all the fucked up shit I did to her. I shot her. Though to be fair, it hit her vest. I know it broke ribs. Because that’s what bullets do when they hit a vest.
And then I literally used a knife to cut her.
Is it supposed to be this hard writing this stuff out?
And the most fucked up thing was that back then, I liked hearing her scream.
I threatened to kill her, torture her further, to have her raped. But she still didn’t break. And you know what? With her childhood I’m realizing just how messed up that was. Her parents would sell her. Any woman is terrified of rape. But to Val it must have been like reliving a nightmare.
It only got way worse from there.
Something happened mentally in my head, though. When Shepherd gave official orders to “break that bitch…make her talk” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go hands on. I could barely watch. But I had to be there to keep things from going overboard. My men would have ripped her to pieces if I had left them in charge. They would’ve killed her. My men are…far more brutal than most people realize. They would’ve murdered her. But not before making her beg to die.
And the order was to keep her alive. So while I had figured out I couldn’t go hands on with her, we were still ordered to hurt her.
I tried keeping her uncomfortable to see if that would help. The more days that passed, the colder I’d set it in that room she was in. Ok, cell. I know she probably doesn’t remember all of it but I do. Every mind-numbing detail. I’d do anything just to make her as uncomfortable as possible. Then I’d let her be comfortable and attempt to ask what we needed to know.
Still nothing.
So sometimes I used handcuffs latched one latch too tight. She fought them so hard she bled. I’d use zipties, duct tape, anything to restrain her in stress positions. Still nothing. She screamed that she would kill me one day and I’d laugh it off. One night we tried borderline drowning her for hours. When I leaned down next to her, there was so much pain and fear in her eyes. And I was hoping this was it, that she was going to break, but she didn’t.
It got to the point to where she was swinging on my soldiers. And I didn’t like that. I couldn’t hit her again. But my men sure could. They beat her until I told them to stop. Still nothing. And she still kept picking fights. We were running out of ideas.
I know she had that information. She did. She was just refusing to give it up. And in my head, now and back then, I wondered if she wanted to give it up, knowing that the codes to the homing beacons had probably changed by then and they were useless, but she refused, wanting to control that tiny part of her life.
We tried anything we could think of that wouldn’t kill her. Wateboarding, beatings, keeping her awake, further threats of rape. Hell, several times we brought a Taser. It was around that time that I stopped liking hearing her scream. She’d gone from whimpers, trying anything she could to hold back a scream to screaming bloody murder.
And then came one thing that scared me half to death.
I remember I had decided to check in on Val, to play a little good cop/bad cop. I’d been planning t bring her a blanket. I found her slumped against the wall, face whiter than usual, her left wrist laying next to her and bleeding heavily.
She had tried to fucking kill herself.
I asked her what the hell was wrong with her. And I remember applying pressure to her wrist. That blanket I had brought for her ended up around her wrist tied tight.
I remember she was out of it when I picked her up and carried her to medical. I brought her to 10-4, a Shadow who specialized in trauma medicine and was also a nurse practitioner. He stitched her up no problem. No serious blood loss noted.
But the attempt had been real. She had tried to take her own life. A part of me wanted to stop it all there. So later that night I called Shepherd. I told him it was too much, that we needed to lighten things up a bit. I even asked if we could stop, saying those codes were probably outdated anyway. He told me to stop letting my feelings get in the way and that this stopped being about the codes a long time ago. Shepherd told me that he needed me to break Val and bring her to Shadow. There was no other way.
So when Val woke up from her drugged sleep, I berated her even though it honestly hurt me, too. I wanted to stop. So bad. To take her and disappear. But go where? They would’ve found us and killed us both. So I kept making her feel stupid and when she asked me if she was in hell, I told her she was.
And it was seeing her drugged and so out of her mind, talking to people that weren’t there, that gave me an idea.
It took days. Days of trying different cocktails. Days of further inflicting pain. Of stitching up those long-forgotten, close-to-infection cuts on her chest with no anesthesia while she screamed. Days of endless drugs being pumped through her system.
She was laughing at one point and I honestly wondered if she’d lost it. If she was going to end up in a psych ward for the rest of her life. She said she knew how to piss me off and it was at that point that she told me that Soap had fucked her better than I ever did.
I had no fucking idea they had ever hooked up. So even though she was drugged and restrained and helpless, I grabbed her by the hair and told her that if she didn’t give me those codes, we were going to start giving her something that was going to make her scream.
She didn’t break.
So in my anger I gave the all clear to use IV drugs that, when dosed a certain way, inflicted pain. 10-4 had described it as feeling like you were on fire inside.
And scream she did. And when we gave her a break, and she was somewhat lucid, she yanked the IV out of her arm and told me to kill her.
Not sure why but that shook me to my core. That had been her second attempt at her own life.
They sedated her.
Shepherd and I talked again. And I almost begged him to let us stop. I couldn’t do it anymore.
But that was when Shepherd said that if we didn’t break her he would.
Shepherd would make what we did to her look like child’s play. And I know Shepherd would kill her after. Because if she couldn’t break and join Shadow, then she was useless to him. She was worse than useless to Shepherd. She was a living witness that could testify that she was tortured at the hands of Shadow.
I don’t know what did it. To this day I don’t know. I walked up to her in her semi-conscious state and told her that if she didn’t give me those codes in the next 5 seconds, we would restart that horrible IV and then hand her over to Shepherd. 5, 4, 3…
And surprisingly, she opened her eyes fully for the first time in days. She looked at me. And she cried. At first, her voice sounded like it was spewing nonsense. But then I realized they were the codes.
At long last, we finally had those codes.
It took Val a few days to recover. But because we hadn’t inflicted physical pain, she recovered quicker than I expected.
It was time for me to start the second half of my assigned duty: make Val mine and Shadow Company’s. It wasn’t hard because she was craving, she was desperate for a gentle touch. That night when I undressed her I was reminded of just how much I had hurt her. Of just how many commands I had given to have my men hurt her.
She was covered in bruises and stitched lacerations. So I remember taking it easy on her. It was so close to making love…just not quite.
Val went through a metamorphosis after that. She was…docile? Not sure if that’s the right word. I think she was just scared of being put back in that tiny cell and hurt all over again. Maybe her brain made connections that made her realize no one else cared about her and that no one else was coming for her. She had been abandoned. And that this was going to be her home for the rest of her life.
She had fully broken and it was my job to rebuild her just like I wanted her.
She did whatever I asked her to do. It was simple stuff at first. Translation. And she did it without question, without a second thought. A good sign. And I played on that and played some mind games with her. I was honest, though. 141 wasn’t going to take her back.
She started going through these anger outbursts. Even as she started gaining more privileges. I figured she was just coming to terms that the 141 part of her was dead and a new identity was being born. We all mourn when we lose a part of ourselves, right?
I remember that it was around this time that we changed her categorization in our system. We first had her listed as a captured enemy combatant. Her sub-classification was prisoner of war. It was changed after the first time we took her into the field. We gave her a new callsign: Phantom-80. 80 because that’s the number on some parts of my uniform. I wanted to make it clear she was…is…mine. Phantom? To mock 141’s Ghost.
I began trusting my men to keep Val safe when I wasn’t around. I made it clear they were not to touch her. I didn’t have to worry about them disobeying despite the fact that quite a few of them had a crush on her. They knew and still know the consequences of what would happen if they were to so much as look at her wrong.
Val went through another episodes of having these rages and actually started having these physical outbursts of anger after I told her 141 thought we were both dead. She directed that anger into her fieldwork and she actually surprised me when her body count reached 15. She was so angry during that time. I remember even I was kinda scared of her. I remember asking myself just what I’d created. I recall being nervous she’d tried to find her way back to 141 so I told her 141 would kill her slow if they found her and she believed me. And even if they didn’t I told her she’d just end up in prison for the rest of her life. She saw me as God as far as I knew.
She went through this…phase where she hid her face from everyone but me. I knew she was self-conscious about the marks and scars on her face. I felt kinda bad about it. But then again…would any of it have happened if she had just told us what we needed to know immediately? It kinda made me feel special, to be honest. Here she was wearing a mask and long sleeves around everyone else but me. Taking off her clothes was like unwrapping a present.
I didn’t show Val or let Val see it on my face but I was scared when I realized we were going to have to team up with 141 again. I was terrified of losing her. I knew they were going to try to take her from me.
And when they did, my heart sank. When I was told she had been taken by them and there was no telling where she was, I remember punching several holes in drywall. I demanded she be found immediately. Now. I felt like every minute she was going was just another minute further away they moved her.
She was gone for a couple days but it felt like a month to me. I called Shepherd in a panic. Shepherd told me not to worry about it and that he had it under control.
Shepherd didn’t know but when I found out she was pregnant, the first thing that came to mind was how far along and did I interrogate her while she was pregnant?
Turns out I did. She was pregnant through all of it. And that made me feel like an absolute piece of shit. We captured Val in October. Rett was born in July. You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that’s a 9-month time period. I didn’t know. But that still doesn’t take away from the horrible fact that she was already pregnant. Barely but still. I mean how fucking horrible is that? At the same time it’s a miracle isn’t it? That little boy survived all of that. I realize she might’ve gotten pregnant right after but something deep down tells me she already was.
I looked at the hospital records. Some of them. I couldn’t make it through all of them. Broken, healed and re-broken ribs. A ruptured eardrum from when I hit her in the face with my gun that first night. Hairline fractures. I couldn’t make it past that.
I still can’t bring myself to say I’m sorry. The words just won’t come out. So until I’m man enough to put it into words that Val can hear:
Val, I’m so fucking sorry. I was under orders. No excuse, I know. I’m sorry you still wake up screaming from nightmares of what I did and had done to you. Even though you’ll never tell me what you’re dreaming about I know. I’m sorry I left scars on your body that will always remind you of the torture I put you through. And Jesus Christ, I’m sorry and I’ll never forgive myself for doing it to you while you were pregnant. I’ll never forgive myself. Just please, don’t tell Rett. I don’t deserve you and if I was any better of a person I would give you back to 141 with Rett and let myself go to prison. I know they’d take care of you and our son. But I just can’t. I can’t take back what I did. But I can focus on the future. And I promise that neither you nor Rett will ever want for anything. Anything you or he want, it's ya’ll’s. Let's go somewhere only we know and raise our family.
God forgive me for all I've done.
#phillip graves#phillip graves x reader#cod mw2#cod mw3#graves x reader#longwayfromhome#somewhere only we know
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Gala of the Gods (Part 1)
A few people suggested some stuff with Scarab and Nightmo, I've become obsessed with some of the art I've seen of these two in fancy clothes, so I'm going to combine the two.
Behold, my attempts at describing fancy clothing!
I am an artist as well, so if there's anything from this fic series you might wanna see me draw, just let me know.
Also, this is multi-parter! So y'all are gonna have to be patient.
Enjoy y'all!
Part 1 -You Are Here- | Part 2 | Part 3
Word Count: 2,200
Mail was not something Scarab expected when he first came to live in the Time Room. He figured anyone with something to say to Prismo would just take it as an excuse to show up and hang out for a while.
But, as with many assumptions he had, Scarab was wrong. Well, kind of.
The mail was never frequent, and it was almost only from the higher ups, but it had happened enough time with nearly missed important updates for Scarab to add checking the Time Room's make-shift mailbox to his routine.
And it was a good thing he did. Because they had mail. Fancy looking mail. And the beetle felt sick to his stomach when he began suspecting what this was about.
"Prismo! Mail! Letter from the Organizer."
Prismo made a rather undignified noise as he snapped awake from where he was dozing off in his hot tub.
"The Organizer? Ooooh, is it that Gala thing?"
"I suspect it might be. It's addressed to both of us, shall I read it?"
"Knock yourself out, Lovebug."
Scarab rolled his eyes a little but smiled regardless. He broke open the seal and unfolded the letter.
"To the Wishmaster and his assistant,
You are both cordially invited to the bicentennial Cosmic Gala. Attendance is compulsory, however you are not required to stay for the duration, should your godly duties require you to return to your posts.
The Gala will be hosted in the Judgement Hall, and will begin 340 time waves from now.
You are expected to be on your best behavior. There will be no physical altercations within the Judgement Hall. Please leave any and all grievances with coworkers at home. Snacks and drinks will be provided.
We look forward to seeing you there.
-The Organizer."
Scarab had suspected for a long time that that last paragraph was pointed at him specifically. It's not like he started fights, it's just gods get aggressive at him for doing his job.
"Oh, I haven't even thought of the Gala... Man, a lot has happened since the last one..."
Scarab clicked in agreement. Then was struck with a sudden thought.
"Wait a moment. How are we meant to attend while in this form?"
Prismo raised an eyebrow. "Have you never seen me attend before?"
"I always left early. I made excuses that my job as Auditor required my attention, so I arrived as it started, stayed for perhaps one Time Wave so my boss could see I showed up, then I left. It's not fun sticking around a party where no one likes you."
Whoops, that came out more bitter than he had meant... It's not like he minded not attending more of the party, parties were never his scene to begin with...
Or, was that another thing he convinced himself he didn't like so it wasn't being taken from him?
Hmmm...
"Well, you can come with me this time. We'll stick by each other's side. I think you'll look nice on my arm, Lovebug."
Scarab's mandibles snapped up.
"O-On your arm... Are you suggesting we attend as... as a couple?"
"I-I mean, if you want..." Prismo looked uncharacteristically flustered, smiling nervously at the beetle.
"I think... I think I would like that, Prismo. But, you still haven't answered my question."
"Oh, yeah, the form thing. Well, how it works is the Organizer gives us authorization to make copies of our corporeal body that we can inhabit. Like ghosts or some deal. They last for a few days, and then we get returned to the wall."
"Our... corporeal bodies..."
"Yeah, it's pretty much the only time I get to exist as 'Old Man Prismo' and not cease to be me. I think it's pretty neat. And you get to be taller than me for once."
Scarab barely responded to that, a far away look on his face.
"Can we... modify these bodies at all...?"
"I mean, you can make them look different colors, I guess, or make yourself look younger but why do you..." Prismo's expression filled with sadness. "...You can't restore limbs, if that's what you're asking. I'm sorry, Scrabby."
Scarab sighed. "It's... fine. It was worth asking."
He made a few clicking chirps as he thought.
"...I suppose I should dress up for once? If I'm attending with you and lingering longer?"
"I mean, you could. I like to, since I don't get the luxury of clothes very often, and I'd rather not show up to a Gala as a naked old man. But it's not like you have to."
Prismo watched Scarab's expression. He was deep in thought, that was obvious with how much his mandibles were twitching. Then, his expression lit up.
"...We can conjure almost anything in the Time Room, yes?"
"I mean, anything not sentient, pretty much."
"Hmm... Would you mind if we arrived separately? I think I'd like to... surprise you. You know the lobby outside the Judgement Hall? Wait for me there. I will meet you there."
Prismo was intrigued, to say the least. "A surprise? Just for me? Well, let's do it then. I'll wait for you."
"Perfect. Thank you, love." Scarab nuzzled his cheek sweetly. Prismo giggled, returning the favor with a soft little kiss.
"I can't wait to see what you come up with, Scrabs. I know you'll look gorgeous."
Scarab's elytra clicked as he purred, smiling softly. He'd been doing that a lot more recently. Prismo decided to take pride in the fact he's made the unflappable Scarab smile and blush like a goof.
The days leading up to the Gala were at the same time quiet and buzzing. Scarab was very clearly cooking something up, as he had carved out a little room in the basement that Prismo was explicitly forbidden from entering.
If you had told the Wishmaster he'd be okay with Scarab, of all gods, having a secret room he's not allowed in in the Time Room, well... well, you'd be given quite the strange look, that's for certain.
"Scrabby! Can you come out of your lair for a moment?"
"For the last time Prismo, it's not a lair, it's a work room!" Regardless of the terminology of whatever was going on in Scarab's little private room, the beetle acquiesced and emerged into the main chamber. "What is it?"
"Our uh... Bodies are here."
It was always just mildly upsetting to Prismo when they just... appeared. It unnerved him to see his own sleeping body at the best of times, but seeing it completely still, not even breathing, was... strange.
"Ah, okay. Is it almost time for the Gala then?"
"We have I think 3 More Time waves before the party officially starts, so we should probably start getting ready now."
"And how long are these good for?"
"Uhhh... I think 50 Time Waves?"
"Why do they stick around so long after the party?"
"I don't know, actually. Maybe they're being nice?"
"I've never known the higher ups for being... Nice. Regardless, how does this work?"
Prismo stretched his arms a bit, examining the two empty shells on the ground. "Don't worry, it's easy. Alright, so all you've gotta do is touch it, and imagine yourself waking up. It's not super nice feeling when you first wake up, just as a warning. Watch."
Prismo slid across the floor, positioning himself completely covering his body, and closed his eyes. He felt himself fade, almost like he was disappearing, but sensation quickly returned as he jumped into his body. He pulled in a gasp of air, everything tingling as his senses caught up with him.
"Prismo? Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah..." His voice sounded dry. He needed some water. He ran fingers through his long hair and beard as he sat up. "See? Easy."
"Are you certain you're okay?"
"I'm fine. It just... takes a minute for me to adjust. I'm not 3d very often." Prismo laughed it off, but it didn't stop him from holding a hand over a now beating heart and breathing lungs. "Your turn."
Scarab hesitated, looking between his body and Prismo. Slowly, he crawled over, letting himself overlap with the shell. The blue shadow faded, the body shooting up into an upright position, breathing heavily.
"Oh, that felt wretched..." The beetle could only describe it as similar to that falling sensation one has that jars them awake.
Scarab looked as he flexed his own fingers, claws lightly clicking together. It felt... strange to be in a body like this again. His senses buzzed. He felt the weight of his shell for the first time in months. The weight of his mask...
Slowly, he rearranged the mask to tuck behind his head. He would be going to this party as himself. Proudly.
"Heya gorgeous."
Prismo had scooched a bit closer, taking advantage of new senses to hold his love for the first time in a 3d space.
Scarab's breath hitched. He was not prepared for how... warm and soft Prismo's touch would be. He had gotten used to the Wishmaster's touch in their wall forms. But... touch in the third dimension... gentle touch, touch not meant to harm him, it was... new. Alien. His mandibles thrummed as he leaned into the hold, purring, claws experimentally touching the soft, coiling gray hair nearly covering his partner.
Prismo, meanwhile, was fascinated. He explored the texture of Scarab's shell and face. The fine grooves separating the plating reminded him of polished armor. But it was warm, alive, he could feel the beetles muscles moving underneath, the thrum of blood and life. And his pink face, while prickly at the edges, was soft to cradle.
"There you are... That's my pretty Lovebug. Look at you..."
Scarab preened under the touch and praise. He was beautiful. Prismo made him believe it.
"I must say... I think you're quite lovely in this form as well."
Prismo's cheeks flushed a lovely pinkish red color, Scarab chirping in pride. He nuzzled at him, marveling at the feeling of it with a physical body.
"I'm going to go get ready, Prismo. I'll meet you at the Judgement Hall lobby."
"Alright, Scrabs. I'll be looking for you."
The bug purred one more time before sequestering himself in his mystery room once more.
Prismo chuckled as he himself got ready.
Brushing his long, unruly hair was a task in and of itself. He pulled part of the mop into something a bit more elegant, a waterfall of gray tied neatly with a pink and gold ribbon falling down his back.
Prismo wasn't much for formal clothing, but he did like robes. Something soft, light, breathable. And had amassed quite the collection from these Galas in the past. He did like his pinks and golds, but who could blame him? He liked how he looked in them.
The robe had layers of color to it, a light pink similar to his shadow form on the inner most layer, slowly shifting out into a dark, rosy red. There were imagery of gold eyes and hands cascading down the back and sleeves, giving way to constellations and stars on the long skirt that dragged a little on the floor.
He accessorized with bracelet and rings and necklaces and pendants until he glittered like the stars. That was always his favorite part of these events, the accessorizing. He wasn't one to care much about looks, but he did enjoy making himself sparkle.
He looked into a summoned mirror, checking everything from head to toe. His golden orange sash was tied nicely, his sandals looked good, everything was in place. Perfect.
"Scrabby, I'm heading out now! I'll see you there, Lovebug!"
In lieu of a proper response, he heard a loud chirp echoing from down in the basement.
Prismo couldn't help but be curious about what Scarab was doing. All the more reason to be excited, he supposed.
In a rainbow of fragmented light, Prismo deposited himself outside the lobby of the Judgement Hall, other gods already milling about and conversing.
"Prismo! Sho-Hoot man, I always forget how nice you clean up for these events."
The Cosmic Owl flew over to him, dawned in a cloak of gold and silver feathers of starlight. Death also joined him, in a simple, but sharp looking white robe. In the distance, Prismo could spot Life, in a beautiful flower and coral dress, chatting with some other gods.
"Aw, thanks. You two look nice too! It's nice you got to bring Life with you this time, Death."
"We both needed the night out."
"Where's Scarab? He's coming right?"
"Yeah, but he wanted to arrive separately. Said he wanted to surprise me, so I'm indulging. He wouldn't even give me a hint, man."
"Well, consider me intrigued."
The three chatted for a while, Life soon coming to join them, after giving Death a peck on the cheek of course.
"And then the dude just... just tried to pluck one of my feathers out! Like for a good luck charm or something. Do people not get that dreams aren't physical?"
"I don't know, man, people just don't know how to act around you, I guess," Prismo chuckled. He was about to add on, when the doors opened, and a hush fell over the lobby.
Prismo looked toward the entrance, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"...Sho-Hoot, man."
And in walked Scarab.
#prohibitedwish#scarab x prismo#scarab the god auditor#prismo the wishmaster#cosmic owl#death#prohibitedwish fanfic#wrath of the wishmaster
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Nihal and her cat:
“Yes, she ascribed the full responsibility for everything, everything, even her motherlessness, to her. ‘Oh! This woman!..’ she was saying. Now her thoughts were growing muddled, and she was falling asleep; all of a sudden, she heard a shy scratching at the wood of her door. Shaking herself awake, she asked, ‘who is that? Fındık, is it you?’
Fındık was answering. Tonight, Fındık was coming to keep her company and help her forget her loneliness. How, how grateful she was this night for Fındık’s presence!”
(Chapter 9) (italics mine)
Nihal and Beşir:
“And upstairs, little Nihal, in order to avoid flinging her frail body — shaken once again by the final blow of her awful grief — to the ground, not to flail and writhe with the sorrow of a throttled dove from her agony, from the rage of her agony, from the overflow of her helpless wretchedness, was playing every wild piece that she could remember, and creating a commotion worthy of judgement day. As she played, those aches that would reach up from the nape of her neck and tear at her brain seemed to be piercing her head with their claws, unpicking her veins with those talons that gained strength moment by moment. Suddenly, her child’s arms stiff, her fingers frozen on the piano, unable to move her head which felt as if it were nailed to her neck, she let out a cry of pain, and ceased playing. Then she felt someone run towards her, catch her in his arms as she wavered, and holding her lightly, place her on the chair that Behlül had recently vacated. This swoon had only lasted a minute. It was like a storm that never broke; Nihal emerged from this faint with smiling eyes. Then she saw Beşir at her feet, chafing her hands that were as cold as ice, his gentle Abyssinian face frozen with pallor.
‘Beşir, is it you?’ she asked.
Yes, it was him. Today, after the garden, he had followed her with the loyalty of an enthralled shadow, and had waited there, at the top of the stairs, by the glass door. He had seen Behlül kiss Nihal on the corner of her eyebrow, and then, when he had gone, he had quietly drawn closer with who knows what need of his poor humanity. He had waited silent and still, feeling what dejected devotion for Nihal, for whom he would gladly have laid down his life, feeling all of her agonies, and feeling his own spirit crushed under those agonies.
He was watching Nihal with a glint of loyalty in his eyes, and Nihal wanted to console him with her smile.
‘Only a little faint! From weariness…’
Then, gathering her authority, she added in a strong voice, ‘you are not to tell anyone, Beşir, do you understand? That is my wish.’
Then the loyal spark that had kindled in Beşir’s eyes a second ago was covered by a cloud, a cloud of tears, and unable to find the strength to hide the ache in his soul any longer, he nuzzled his thin, delicate face that looked like a finely painted toy, into Nihal’s lap, and sobbed and sobbed…
Nihal let him. She leaned her head on the back of the armchair, and sat with a profound smile of relief in her eyes, feeling great consolation in the purity of the tears that were falling onto her knees. Finally she had found the tears that could openly be shed for her unspoken sorrows, and these tears welled up from Beşir’s innocent soul, from his aching soul that bled with who knew what drops of weeping poison.”
(Chapter 15) (italics mine)
(I love the twisted nature of this last paragraph. She loves Beşir crying for him. Without the last paragraph this would be such a saccharine portrait of slavery but fortunately Nihal is a little psycho).
I have always wondered what that brief scene with Nihal’s cat could have meant besides being a moment of cuteness, but Beşir is really like a pet to her, huh.
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^ little inconveniences—like this title not fitting :/
Before I begin: This post is not written for the purpose of passing moral judgement. It’s meant to be an analysis of Optimus’ ethical reasoning.
Beyond Six Lasers
Individuals know what is best for them! Who but I know what I need? Who but you may decide what is best for you?
I would like to go to Six Lasers, thought Orion Pax.
But if anyone walked up to Six Lasers and demanded to get in whenever the desire struck, the park would be overwhelmed. Structure was necessary. And individuals would never impose Structure on themselves. Would they?
Surely not. Sentient beings banded together and made decisions for the collective good. Not all of those decisions would benefit every individual. (CoP)
The paragraph before this part of Exodus is, I believe, the most controversial moment in any of the Aligned novels. Orion gets upset about being unable to go to an amusement park, and fans have had a field day with it.
However, there are two things I’ve never seen discussed:
How Orion’s questioning is just a small glimpse of the age-old, bigger picture conflict between “Ethical Egoism” and “Utilitarianism” in ethical philosophy
How Orion responds to this conflict
Ethical Philosophy 101 - Ethical Egoism vs. Utilitarianism:
Ethical Egoism operates on the premise that because only individuals know what’s best for themselves, they have a moral responsibility to act on their own interests first and foremost, in order to achieve the greatest amount of good outcomes for the greatest number of individuals.
Utilitarianism operates on the premise that even though individuals may know what’s best for themselves, they have a moral responsibility to act on the interests of the greater good first and foremost, in order to achieve the greatest amount of good outcomes for the greatest number of individuals.
In both cases, the rightness or wrongness of an action falls on the consequences or results, and both have the same goal: to maximize pleasure.
In reality, this is far from being black-and-white, with people sitting on any and all points across the spectrum between these two philosophies.
Even so, there’s no question that Optimus sits closer to the Utilitarian side of the spectrum, as I will cover later.
He was tangled up, uncertain what he should be thinking or feeling.
What I need, thought Orion Pax, is a conversation that doesn’t happen inside my own head. (CoP)
It’s implied that Optimus analyzed both sides on his own, and that after he considered the dilemma long enough, he gave up trying to figure out for himself which view was correct. He doubted his ability to come to a conclusion on his own and sought out the counsel of another in order to help him find clarity.
At that point, Optimus did not operate on any sort of personal, “gut instinct” way of determining what was morally or ethically correct. Instead, he relied heavily on a mix of internal intellectual analysis and the input of others.
How Inconvenient…
Wreck-Gar no doubt would have Makeshift rendered to his basic elements, thought Optimus Prime, so of course they could not do that. At times it was mightily inconvenient to believe in a code of ethics and individual rights. (Exiles)
Optimus, Jazz, and Prowl managed to catch Makeshift after finding out he’d been masquerading as Hound and acting as a double agent for the Decepticons.
They were unable to agree on what to do with the shapeshifter. Prowl and Jazz wanted to wash their hands of Makeshift. They thought that, tactically and legally, it would be best to turn him over to Wreck-Gar and Junkion jurisdiction. After all, Makeshift murdered one of the Junkions earlier in the story.
However, knowing Wreck-Gar was eager to execute the shapeshifter using methods bordering on torture, Optimus refused to even consider handing Makeshift over because of his adherence to his code of ethics.
Whether this code of ethics was the Autobot Code, his own, or both is never specified, but it’s highly likely that the Autobot Code was heavily inspired by Optimus’ own morals.
And even though it would have been far more convenient for him and the entire Autobot cause if he’d handed Makeshift over, Optimus refused to compromise.
Fairness > Effectiveness
Optimus Prime left the room, bringing Jazz and Prowl out with him to wait for Wreck-Gar, who was standing by to remove Makeshift and the entire stasis field apparatus to the closest thing Junkion had to a jail. It was, in an irony all the Autobots could appreciate, the abandoned fuel reservoir of an ancient spacegoing vessel, five times as large as the Ark’s reservoir and with only one opening. Junkions bundled Makeshift into it and welded it shut.
“Where should we put this junk?” Wreck-Gar asked. “Space is the place, you ask me! Break him down!”
“No, we’re not going to do that,” Optimus Prime said. “Keep it here and turn off the stasis field as soon as you’ve got it sealed up.”
“Prime, you can’t be serious,” Prowl said.
“It’s the fair thing to do,” Optimus Prime said. (Exiles)
Optimus has always cared about fairness over effectiveness, even in war when things are often the exact opposite of fair.
In an earlier scene, Makeshift revealed that, as a shapeshifter, he’d die if he stayed in one form too long. The stasis field the Autobots had locked him in would eventually kill him if they didn’t turn it off.
Junkion didn’t have a “jail” that could hold Makeshift indefinitely, so Optimus opted to have him and the stasis field apparatus placed in something that would hold him temporarily. Optimus knew Makeshift would eventually find a way out of his “jail,” yet he still ordered that the stasis field be turned off.
Knowing the danger Makeshift posed to the Junkions and the Autobots, Optimus still chose to let him go.
Where Prowl saw letting Makeshift die at the hands of the Junkions as the safest, most effective option for the majority of those involved (Autobots and Junkions), Optimus saw how that would go against all he believed in.
Ethical Philosophy 101 - Act vs. Rule Utilitarianism:
Act Utilitarianism evaluates things on a case-by-case basis, with an emphasis on the specific consequences and utility of individual actions.
Rule Utilitarianism evaluates things in terms of general moral rules, with an emphasis on the broader consequences and utility of a general rule.
As with Ethical Egoism and Utilitarianism, Act and Rule Utilitarianism exist on a spectrum, with both having advantages and disadvantages.
Generally, Optimus leans toward Rule Utilitarianism, as evidenced by his adherence to the general rule of the Autobot Code and his unwillingness to go with what Prowl sees as the safer, more effective option in this particular case with Makeshift.
Inconvenient, but Imperative
How much easier it would be, Optimus Prime thought again, if his ethics were a little more like Megatron’s. . .or even Wreck-Gar’s. Then he could just dispose of transgressing bots without a second thought. The simplicity!
But that was not the Autobot way, and that would never be the way of the one the Matrix of Leadership chose to be Prime.
Not as long as he was Prime. (Exiles)
Optimus believed that the Autobot way (Rule) would lead to the greatest amount of benefit for the greatest number of individuals. (Utilitarianism)
Over the course of the war, he remained fully aware that his rule-based Utilitarian code of ethics was inconvenient, and there were even times when he compromised.
But overall, it was extremely important to Optimus that he do his best to stick to his code of ethics, even when facing immense pressure.
✧ ✧ ✧
series master post
#transformers prime#maccadam#tfp#tfp optimus prime#tfp orion pax#tfp character analysis#tfp meta#aligned continuity#tf aligned novels#tf exodus#tf exiles#the one and only op ❤️💙#who is TFP Optimus? series#long post#nova’s nerding out again
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Hiiii, Jazzy! For the ask game: 🍓 🥑 🔪 🌿 🪲 (hehe sorry djsakgjkdg <3)
Hi Sparrow!!
🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?
I’m a long time fanfic reader, but I didn’t start really writing anything until 2021. I think, probably, because of the pandemic and needing some kind of outlet for creating things (and also because the Miraculous Ladybug plotlines were haunting my dreams, rattling their chains around in my brain until I finally caved and wrote some actual communication/emotional resolution for the characters that I wasn't getting from the show)
🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?
You and @waterloou lol
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
Bahaha there are SO many, because I frequently have to look things up to write all the fun little facts Wylan has in his head. But I’m not sure researching poisons and how to build bombs/fireworks is all that weird, to be honest.
I’m going to go with the time I was writing a Good Omens fic, and I used google street view to virtually walk from the Ritz to around where Aziraphale’s bookshop would be in soho, so I could know exactly what it looked like and if/when they would likely pass by St. James’s park on the way, and what named streets would be on that route. (I’m not even sure that’s that weird. Maybe I need to be weirder...)
🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity
I do generally believe in the whole “not forcing it and take breaks if you need to” thing usually, but as for advice:
Consume some type of media you really like. Movie, show, book, an old favorite fic, anything that inspires you. I also like going back to the source material for things like fic because it gives me ideas or gets me into the right mental place to write the characters, and I like reading my own fics to brush up on my own interpretations/style.
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
Oh...did you say 50? becuase I slipped and wrote 283...
(from Jesper's pov of the bookshop scene in ch 1 of Everyday)
At some point he loses Wylan to an art book he seems keen on and quietly drifts away with, leaving Jesper to talk to the enthusiastic bookeep on his own.
Jesper’s arms are getting progressively heavier with book recommendations, and the bookkeeper is somehow still holding at least twice as many. He doesn’t understand where they're even coming from at this rate, because more just seem to, to appear each time he looks away.
He thinks about Kaz and his sleight of hand, and wonders at the chance that the bastard of the Barrel has been giving magic lessons to Wijnstraat booksellers in his free time.
He actually has read some of the books the man recommends, either because they were commonly popular in his parents house or on the frontier, or from his short stint in university.
Unfortunately, mentioning that prompts the bookeep to ask, “Ah, so you’re a student, then?”
“Er—” Jesper blanches, in such a pitifully uncomposed way that he’s sure he can just feel Kaz shaking his head in judgemental spirit. The bookeep raises one solitary eyebrow, and Jesper, for some reason—probably because he’s Jesper—keeps bloody talking. “Yea-up. Yeah,” he bobs his head in a jerky nod, “Students, at the university. Good ol’ U of K. Woo...” Jesper cheers. Actually cheers.
Great fucking work Fahey, very believable.
The bookkeep raises his other eyebrow, but smiles kindly. “That must be exciting. What are you studying?”
“Business,” Jesper answers quickly, and makes a concerted effort to not let it sound like a question.
His fingers twitch, longing to trace over the pearl handles of his revolvers, but they’re hidden deep under the folds of his coat, and—apparently—he’s a university student now.
I'm probably (definitely) going to be late to my fist class today now, but I really don't regret it.
Thanks for the questions!! 💖
#jazzy writes#jazzy answers questions#shadow and bone#wesper#wesper snippet#wylan van eck#six of crows#jesper fahey
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How I Annotate Books:
Here's a little tutorial that nobody asked for 🤭🤭 on how I annotate my books because it's fun and I'm obsessed!!
Firstly:
Get rid of that "books are sacred" mentality - or just learn to be okay with only the books you've annotated being a bit messy. (There are also other ways around this: like buying two copies of a book, but im too broke for that 😓.)
Annotating Materials:
You don't need an excessive amount of expensive materials to annotate: a pen or pencil would be perfectly fine!!
However, I usually use:
Black Pen - I would recommend a nice one but like I just use any shitty little pen I can find.
Highlighters - You could use any colours I would either match it to the cover art or to the different tabs I use. (ALSO USE A RULER PLEASE 🙏 🙏 IM BEGGING IT LOOKS SO MUCH BETTER)
Sticky Tab Things - Yk what I'm on about I match mine to the cover cos the neon ones make me violently ill 🤮🤮❌️❌️❌️. But anyways...I usually just use nice coloured ones to match my highlighters or the cover design.
Post It Notes - Again, I always colour match but I found this nice brown ones on amazon which like match the bookish vibe 🤭🤭 so I use them if I don't have any other option.
That's mainly what I use but you could also experiment with colourful pens and gel pens or pencils!! Do whatever you want, but I do advise that it looks best if there is some kind of colour coordination.
Annotating:
Tabbing System: I'll usually have tabs for characters and analysis (dependent on how rich the book's language is) and fave quotes🥰🥰. I know that some people like to tab emotional or romantic parts but I'm not really big on that.
What I Write: Usually dependent on the book, but most of the time its just my stupid little commentary on everything. Sometimes I may actually form an eloquent analysis but that's like once in a blue moon type shit. If I'm feeling smart ig...Anyways some more examples (from my beloved..)
Some of my more stupid notes: featuring me simping over Henry Marchbanks Winter (this is a judgement-free zone!!).
In contrast, more in-depth analysis, or waffle idk?? Depends on your perspective.
^^This is the paragraph for context. 🥰🥰
What I Highlight: Any pretty quotes or prose (Donna Tartt's writing>>>), key plot points or information about characters, or just anything I want to make a note about.
I circle, underline, and draw throughout my books, again, it all really depends on the book and it's genre (A romance is more likely to have doodles and less than intelligent remarks, whereas, literary fiction may have analysis and more detailed annotations).
In summary, you can write, draw and scribble whatever you want in your book: it doesn't have to be an amazing analysis on similes and metaphors (unless you want it to be). Just do what you feel is necessary or what you think suits the book!!! And make sure you're having fun!!🥰🥰 Annotating should be an enjoyable experience not ruining the reading in itself.
Annotating on the first read VS Rereads:
Most people don't like the idea of annotating the first time you read a book because it "ruins the flow of reading" or something along those lines. I personally don't believe that to be the case, but I understand why people feel that way 😁😁 . Like most things related to annotating: it's all based on your personal preference. I like to think that annotating on the first read almost captures and records your live reaction to the book, whereas annotating on a reread gives a chance for more in-depth analysis. They both have their benefits, and it usually depends on how I feel. Just do what you think is best 🥰🥰.
This is a really long post damn....and I think that's everything??? If you have any other questions, then please feel free to ask!!
And yeah,
Have fun annotating!!!
#books#reading#annotation#annotating books#annotations#dark academia aesthetic#the secret history#tsh#bookish#bookworm#art of annotating#booklr
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Lol’s shorts #1
Control
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Dom!Reader
Here you are, yet again. Called in to another military base to provide better intelligence tactics. See, you were one of the smartest people on the planet. So smart, a collection of governments were too scared to leave you roaming the earth.
In the beginning, you didn’t like the sounds of it. There was always someone keeping an eye on you, even in a harmless coffee shop. But it does have its perks. No one can harm you, no one can harass you, unless they want an army of security fall on their neck. This little bump in your regular schedule did become annoying, that’s when you had had enough.
Now, you are called in to military base all across the globe to aid units. The major part of the deal is you need to give them an adequate reading on their enemies future plans. For someone like you, reading people base on what little information you have was a walk in the park. Hell, you did it subconsciously and it freaked people out. Even with lines of redacted black lines covering a paragraph of text, you still gave them accurate information. That’s why you were important, that’s why you aren’t afraid of anything.
You’ve been doing this for years. Aiding in operations all over the world. Intellectual power house is what you are. You have saved so many lives by just being you, downside is it took a toll on your emotional health. Reading all the awfulness, meeting people just to forget they exist days later. It made you stoic, unfazed by small talk or whispered comments. To you, the rest of the population became obsolete, just a sea of faces that you could never connect with.
This time around, you where called in to the British land governed by people with superiority complexes. The unit you had limited time to interact with was chasing a Russian terrorist with a wide array of bombs. Meh, what’s new?
You quickly red through his file while walking through the numb hallways of this new base. Name was Makarov, born in blah blah blah… couldn’t terrorist be a little more interesting?
Closing the folder after having enough of reading the acts of terror, you pushed the door to the briefing room. Heads snap to take a good look at you. Having done this a hundred times, you are unfazed by the judgement hidden behind their features. You stand in a corner, taking quick glances at the people in the room, expression unchanging. The speaker started up his speech again, going over details of their next mission.
A tall body caught my attention. Skull mask on his face, deep pits of judgement for eyes. You’ve seen this type of man before. Always the quietest, always ready to defend their unit from the new person. Relaxed, in control of the situation, that’s what his posture suggested, but his eyes revealed something else. He wanted to know more about me, the distrust in his eyes was clear as day. Control was something he liked a lot, obvious by his reaction to you.
It only took you 5 seconds to come up with a plan to mess with him. You’re purpose for it? Having a little fun with the uptight giant.
You made your move after having a staring contest with him for a good 7 minutes. He shifted immediately, turning his body towards you, arms crossing over his chest. The usual posture for maximum intimidating. How nice.
He was staring daggers at you, which you completely ignored. This isn’t the first time you deal with this kind of soldier and you want to teach him a lesson on who’s boss around here. You have to look up at him because of his height, but your plain expression is already getting to him. You stop in front of him, inches between your chest and his still crossed arms.
The room became silent, finally catching on. The tension was palpable and you thrived in it. Skull mask narrowed his eyes at you, finally realizing the slow shift in power.
“The hell’s happening over there” a voice broke the silence. It wasn’t skull face, it wasn’t your skull face that said that.
Control. That was the name of the game here. He didn’t want to give you control of this situation, he didn’t want to lose control in front of his team. You could practically read his mind in this moment and it was thrilling. Thoughts were speeding through his head, trying to find the best way to deal with you.
A sickly smile spread your lips. Seeing him slowly lose his mind at your very simple actions. You knew he couldn’t push you away, you knew he couldn’t overreact because then he would lose control.
“Ghost? Everything alright mate?” Another voice interjected. You took note of the impatient undertone of the voice. It was time to make another move before the other beings in this room intervened.
You lifted your arm, skull dudes eyes tracking your movements. Slowly, your hand spread over the plastic of the mask covering his cheeks. He didn’t move, still trying to have control of the situation. You were having the time of your life, slowly tilting his head from side to side as you feigned a fake sense of interest.
It was time for the last nail, to seal the figurative coffin you’ve been building all this time. You pulled his head to the side and brought it closer to your face. Your breath slowly fanned over his ear, your mouth so close to his ear he could hear your breathing.
“You’re mine now”
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There is misery in self-inflicted mediocrity.
The tremendous amount self confidence I have gained from realising that nobody actually cares about what I'm doing is outstanding.
Live life without caring so much about judgement - you will be surprised how little it ends up mattering to you.
If pursuing your happiness means stepping outside the prescribed 'normal,' then so be it.
I want to act, I want to write. I live in a country that doesn't treat creativity as a viable career, but I don't care anymore. I will act where I can act, I will write where I can write. If you recognise me in the future, I will know I have succeeded. If not, I would have still succeeded, because happiness really does come from within. And though I have not achieved that undisrupted, untainted sense of fulfilment yet, I will continue trying to in the ways I know grant me the most joy, even if it won't, in turn, result in a life of prosperity. For about a decade I put my dreams on the back burner to pave a way into a career with at least a minimum likelihood of a cushy future. In doing so, I have sacrificed much joy that could have come from rich life experiences if I hadn't been conditioned into the failure = doom mindset. Now I'm going back to what I truly want to do, and I'm no longer apologising for it.
Like this completely unnecessary paragraph. I could stop writing now. I should stop writing now. Perhaps someone will read it and perhaps not. But I'm writing it anyway because I can.
There are so many people in my shoes (not literally because that would be foul)... finishing university, questioning whether they are even in the right degree, realising that a being trapped in a 9-5 hamster wheel for the rest of their lives poses the greatest risk of misery and regret, moreso than failure ever could. But that is truly ok. It's difficult to combat the many voices that whisper promises of security and comfort, condemning dreams in the name of feasibility. But those voices don't know your heart, and they never will unless you open it.
Downsides: Ridicule. Likely failure. Chance of extreme financial hardship. Judgement. Sadness.
Upsides: Potential fulfilment.
It is a gamble, but I will take my chances. I will be closer to my version of happiness if I strive for it, even if it doesn't yield any desired results.
Life is microscopic, but no less precious. I intend to treat it that way.
If you got through all that, congratulations. Hope it wasn't a waste of your time, most of it is verbal diarrhoea. But now that I've written it, I have no choice but to stick to it, so I guess that's that then.
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Told You
-- Bit different from what I usually do but this was fun! I hope you don't mind but I made her like 13 because I cannot write children for some reason.
Request: you're Phoenix and Rooster's daughter and your teacher doesn't believe that both your parents are navy pilots.
Thank you @astoryinblack23 --
Mrs Higgins had picked a really random hill to die on today. She was usually a little strange but this really took the cake.
"I want you to write a short paragraph introducing yourselves and your family." She had said, her french accent particularly thick and difficult to understand today. You were pretty sure she was putting it on anyway.
"You will read it in front of ze class and I will grade you for your pronunciation."
Wonderful.
Still, you had no choice. You pulled a pen and a notebook out of your bag and began to write.
"Je m'appelle Y/N Bradshaw et j'ai 13 ans. Mon père s'appelle Bradley et ma mère s'appelle Natasha. Ils sont pilotes d'avions pour la marine. Je n'ai pas de frère ou de soeur mais nous avons un chien qui s'appelle Max. Il est très gentil."
("My name is Y/n Bradshaw and I am 13 years old. My father is named Bradley and my mother is named Natasha. They are pilots for the navy. I don't have brothers or sisters but we have a dog called Max. He is very nice")
It wasn't Shakespeare and you knew it, but you figured she'd pick at your choice of words, not whether or not you had lied about the content of your introduction.
"I do not believe you" She said, arms crossed ovee her chest as she leaned on one of the empty desks on the front row.
"I do not believe your parents are pilots for ze navy. It is very difficult to become a pilot for ze navy. Statistically, it is almost impossible."
You had no idea where she had pulled her numbers from but there had been a miscalculation.
"No, I can assure you my parents are pilots"
"I do not appreciate your tone, Mizz Bradshaw"
She turned around. In an moment of terrible judgement on your part, you stuck out your tongue. Mrs Higgins saw you in the periphery of her vision. She instantly turned around again, fury etched on her wrinkled face.
"If you did what I think you did, Mizz Bradshaw, I shall make sure you are suspended"
So she did. At lunch, while your friends were going to get lunch, Mrs Higgins had dragged you out into the school entrance hall to speak to your parents.
They had called your mother and when she didn't respond, your father. You were really hoping neither would be coming and your grandfather would come as you didn't really look forward to the car ride home. You had never been suspended before, or gotten in enough trouble to get them called so you couldn't be certain but you were almost sure that they would spend the journey home angry that they had had to miss work for something so stupid. And they would ground you.
But when a car stopped in front of school's front door, it wasn't Mav that stepped out but both your parents. You felt yourself pale at the thought of the lecture you were going to get, especially since they were both in uniform. But any fear you felt vanished at the sight of Mrs Higgins' astonished face.
She had pulled your parents aside to explain privately but the sight of two stern fighter pilots talking to a mortified teacher was enough to draw a crowd. Bradley shook his head halfway through and left Natasha to it while he came up and sat next to you.
"Not entirely sure I get what she's saying…Something about you sticking out your tongue at her? I mean, I know you're a kid but I thought we'd outgrown that stage…"
"Sorry dad"
"Yeah… so, what happened?"
"I don't know. She asked us to introduce ourselves and our family in front of the class and when I did she wouldn't believe you guys were pilots"
"So you stuck out your tongue?" You smiled, you knew he was trying not to find this whole situation too amusing.
"Obviously not" You smiled " I told her I wasn't lying, she dudn't like my tone so I stuck out my tongue."
"That makes more sense"
"Am I still getting punished?"
"We'll let your mom decide, she's an ace when it comes to the whole child-raising business."
You hummed. Your dad stood up and went to joined your mom again.
Phoenix had started looking incredibly infuriated with the teacher and it was getting worse by the second. If anything, Rooster was only going in order to mediate.
He looked at his daughter and then at his wife. It had always amazed him how alike the two of them were in both appearance and personality but Rooster had to recognise that there was some of him in you too. You had his eyes and his temper. Where Nat could keep her head on straight in difficult situations, both he and you tended not to think things through too much and just act. It was great in stressful situations, but it had gotten him in trouble more times than he could count.
Rooster wished he'd passed on some other trait, like music. When Nat had first told him they were expecting he had imagined teaching his child to dance, sing and play music but you couldn't carry a tune if it came in a bag, and piano was a no go either.
He remembered when Nat had first told them they were expecting. They hadn't even been together and Rooster was terrified. He had spoken to Maverick and to Penny to try and be the best dad he could be. He was afraid he would mess up, that he would die and leave you fatherless, or worse that he would work and never spend any time with you.
But when the nurse put you in his arms he had simply melted away, reassured by your little baby smiles. He was instantly smitten.
Eventually, the teacher stopped talking and Nat dropped the death stare to discuss things with her husband.
You wished they would hurry. They spoke in hushed voices, shooting glances your way every few minutes. It made you nervous, like they were an judge pannel on a gameshow, deciding whether or not to press the buzzer that would send you on in the competition.
You were snapped out of your nervous thoughts by someone's hand tapping you on the shoulder. Wendy, a cool older girl leaned towards you.
"Hey Y/n, are those your parents?"
You nodded. At least, even if you did get punished the entire experience would have given you some school credibility.
#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fic#natasha phoenix trace#phoenix#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#fanfiction#fanfic#phoenix x rooster#original fic#requests
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