#so far i have two concrete answers and some that could change

[thrilloffirstlove]

might fuck around and start assigning my f/os to evilious songs/characters

[dancingtotuyo]

12. love with urgency but not with haste

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt & comfort and no comfort?, depression, anxiety, vague/brief references to postpartum recovery, fluff

Notes: as always, a huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand and @janaispunk for beta reading.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3533

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

The newborn stage with Willa is much different than it was with Carter. The early months after Carter’s birth are a blur in your memory. Maria practically moved in with you. The nights you managed to fall asleep, she roused you when he woke up. When you couldn’t sleep, she had to pull you out of whatever world you’d drifted into. You remember feeling like a bad mother at the time. Who isn’t in tune with their child. What mother doesn’t go running at their first cries? But the moment he was in your arms, he joined you in the far off places, tethered you to some semblance of reality. A growing reminder that you couldn’t get too lost. 

Most of what you remember those first few months are feelings, his baby soft skin, the fresh scent of a newborn that seemed to be present whether you lived at the end of the world or not. 

If anyone asks Maria about Carter’s first few months, she sits there for a minute in silence before answering. It’s hard to put into words what she saw. She’d worried about you, made sure you ate, and cleaned yourself up. While you spent much of your day with a far away look in your eyes, the moment she placed Carter in your arms, you were attentive to his every need with ease. You didn’t seem totally present to the world, but you were totally aware of what your child needed as long as he was in your arms. You would interact with the world for an hour or so at a time, like your body knew it needed to for survival. Eventually, your hours of cognition grew. The night you were shushing Carter before Maria could even get out of bed, a weight lifted off her chest. Two days later, she slept in her bed for the first time in three months. 

With Willa, everything feels more concrete. You know better than to chalk it up to being in the present. You’re more present. The world is spinning around you at a hundred miles per hour and you’re keeping up with all of it even with the exhaustion of healing and caring for a newborn. Joel is up for every feeding, pulling her out of the crib, hushing her softly, his hand spanning her entire back before he places her gently in your arms. You laugh together when she nods off, milk drunk and groan in frustration when she refuses to go back to sleep, and you remember all of it. The way her little tongue pokes out as her tiny clenched fists stretch over her head. The way Joel’s crows’ feet cut deep creases into his eyes even beneath the sleep deprivation. The way your heart fills with warmth. 

On more than one occasion, you wake up to find Carter with his face pressed to the bars of the crib, watching over his baby sister as she sleeps. When you say his name, quiet enough to not wake Willa, he spins around with a grin and jumps in bed with you, wiggling between you and Joel. When Willa wakes up, Carter lies flat on his back as you place Willa on his chest. Sometimes he talks to her, filling her in on his dreams from the night before. Other times, he makes funny faces, trying to get her to smile. A few times, he just kisses her head gently and lays with her in silence. Together, You and Joel watch them in awe. 

Ellie visits when Joel is out of the house. After getting through her nerves of holding such a tiny person, she takes to Willa with more ease than you expect. She and Carter take turns telling her about space and dinosaurs. Willa stares at them with wide brown eyes, a captive audience for Ellie and Carter’s shared interests. She doesn’t ask about Joel. You don’t offer any specifics. Anything she learns comes from Carter telling a story or your broad, off handed remarks about plans for the day or week. You can tell that she’s pulled away from you some, but you trust she’ll come to you when she’s ready.  What’s most important to you right now, is that she’s still in your life.  

As much as you hate that Joel never told you, a part of you is grateful he never asked you to keep the secret, and you feel guilty for thinking that. The anger ebbs and flows through you over the entire situation. Ellie deserved the truth, but you understand the fear of loss better than anyone. 

On the days when her assignments allow it, Ellie takes Carter with her, giving you some quiet time. You usually use the time to nap. Sometimes, you lay on the couch, Willa’s small body curled on top of you, sun streaming through the living room window, warming your bodies. 

Willa joins you and Joel on your evening walks once they resume, though they’re usually pre dinner walks now. She is usually strapped to Joel’s  chest in a makeshift sling. The sight of her tiny body asleep against her father quickly becomes one of your favorite sights. No matter what, you have the assurance that your daughter knows the safest place in the world is in her daddy’s arms. 

“What’s got you grinning?” Joel chuckles, squeezing your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I’m imagining what it would be like to be her.” You smile, nodding toward Willa. “All curled up against your chest.”

He smiles, hand covering her entire back. “I would hope you have a pretty good idea of that by now.” He tugs you closer to him.

You laugh, hands landing on his waist, clutching the fabric of the sling wrap at his sides. “Not strapped to you like that. It seems so cozy and safe.”

“I hope that’s how you feel right now.” He pulls you in close, Willa squeezed softly between you. 

“It is,” you nod. 

“Good,” Joel kisses your cheek. He looks so content, so at ease. It all suits him so well, like he was made to be right here, in Jackson, in this moment with you. His curls play in the soft, June breeze. Willa’s tuft of soft baby hair does the same as it peaks out of the sling. 

Willa squirms slightly between you, drawing both of your attentions until she finds a more agreeable spot. Joel chuckles. “I think it’s time to get my girls inside. I think someone is going to be ready to eat soon.” 

Joel pulls you to his side, his arm wrapping around your waist. You hum softly, letting your body melt into his, drunk on the warm air and fading sunshine. Ellie sits on the front porch with Carter when you round the corner. Their favorite astronomy book sits between them. If you couldn’t hear them, you’d think they were having some serious discussion, not trying to decide which constellation would defeat which in hand to hand combat. 

“Solving the world's problems?” You smile at them.

“No, Mommy!” Carter laughs. 

Ellie stiffens immediately as you feel Joel stop behind you. “Ellie.” He nods at her. 

She averts her gaze, refusing to acknowledge him. You don’t have to turn around to see the hurt he’s trying to conceal. He deserves the cold shoulder, and he knows it. 

“Did Willa enjoy her walk, Daddy?” Carter slides off the swing, rushing over to the two of you. 

“She slept through most of it,” Joel chuckles. Ellie shifts her whole body away from the four of you. He pretends not to notice. “Let’s go inside, Buddy.” He holds out his hand.

Carter nods, taking it, but looks back at Ellie before they head inside. “See you tomorrow, Ellie?”

She nods. “Of course.”

The door clicks shut, leaving just the two of you. You ease onto the swing next to her. She doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t attempt to make eye contact. You sit back, waiting for her to say something, or leave, but you get the feeling she’s ready to talk about it. 

“I could have.”

“Could have what?”

“Solved the world’s problems.”

You suck in a deep breath, the carelessness of your earlier words hitting you. “Even if they had figured out how to make a cure,” you say. 

“They did. I saw everything!” She clenches her fist. 

“You saw theories, and lab experiments.”

“Ones that they said worked.”

“Even successful lab experiments go wrong in practice.”

Ellie shifts in her seat, hunched over her knees, but she’s not running away from you. 

Your fingers find the end of her short hair. She’s continued to trim it since you did the initial chop. 

“The infected would still be infected. People would still hunt each other down, grab for power. Everything that was built is gone. The world can’t go back to how it was.”

“So we’re doomed? My immunity means nothing?”

“No,” you grab her arm, the one with the bite mark. The outline of a fern is tattooed over the inside of her forearm now. She’s talked about filling it in, cover the bite with it. “It means that immunity is possible. That maybe one day humans will adapt and evolve to fight Cordyceps. It’s hope.”

“Hope feels pretty damn shitty when your friends are dying.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does,” you sigh, setting her arm down.

Silence settles between you. Birds chirp. Bees buzz around the flowers in front of your house even as the sun fades behind the mountains. 

“I don’t think I can ever forgive him.”

“You’re allowed to be angry. I’m angry about it too.” Her head whips around, brown eyes sparkling with tears. You give you a somber smile, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He shouldn’t have lied to you. I know you gave him every opportunity to tell you.”

There’s a soft nod to her head that grows with each up and down. 

“Whether you ever forgive him is up to you, but you will always have me, okay?”

Ellie lets out a sigh of relief, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as her arms wrap tightly around your shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Ellie.” You squeeze her against you. “Like you’re my own child.” 

Her voice is muffled against your shoulder, but you still hear the world clear as day. “I love you too.”

You lose track of time, but you sit with Ellie until she is ready to go. Once she stands, she lingers, keeping conversation. You smile at her. “You’re welcome to stay for supper.”

She seems to think about it for a second, eyes drifting to the door that keeps her separated from Willa and Carter… and Joel. You see it in her face, she misses it. Forcing a weak smile on her lips, she squares her shoulders some. “I think it's better if I don’t. Not tonight at least.”

“It’s an open invitation. Same as always. You’ll-”

“Always have a seat at your table.” She finishes with a real smile this time. 

“Exactly.” 

“Thank you.” She says, and then she’s walking across the street to her house. 

Willa is squirming in Joel's arms when you get inside, rooting against Joel’s cheek in search of food. He laughs with baby drool splotching across his chin. “Don’t think I’m gonna be much help there, Wildflower.”

You laugh, arm’s instantly stretching out to take her. “Hand her here.”

He kisses her cheek before doing so, placing a kiss on your cheek as well. “I’ll start on dinner.” 

You hum in appreciation. “You’re a good man.”

“When I want to be,” Joel calls over his shoulder as you settle on the couch. Carter colors at the coffee table in front of you, updating you on his day at school as you nurse Willa. Life feels good, settled with Joel in the kitchen and your children around you. The only thing missing is Ellie, and you’re hopeful that she’ll be back soon. 

Life carries on much the same, the five of you settling into a routine, a dance of sorts. Ellie still avoids dinners both at your house and Sunday’s at Tommy and Maria’s. You see Joel searching for any way to make things right, but you know what he can’t admit. There’s nothing he can do. An apology might help, but Ellie has to be ready to forgive him, and she’s a long way off. 

The summer is slow and sweet like honey. Willa doesn’t seem to get that memo because you swear you blink and she grows. She begins to sleep more throughout the night, which is a welcome change for both you and Joel. She smiles and laughs now, and you swear it is the most treasured sound. If she's awake and fed, someone is making her giggle. You soak it all in, every second, stopping to commit the moments to your memory. 

Willa’s feedings increase to every four hours at the beginning of August, just as the bouquets of wildflowers Joel brings you begin to grow in size and color. They’re hitting their peak a little bit later this year, but you’re thankful for it. You should have just enough time to enjoy a short afternoon there, just you and Joel. While getting on a horse still sounds like the least appealing right now, you’re willing to endure it for the beautiful peace of the meadow. You just have to get Joel to agree. 

You’re lying next to him in bed. He’s angled against the headboard, reading a book about space so he can keep up with Carter… and Ellie. Crickets chirp through your open bedroom window, ceiling fan spinning above you. The summer has been hot, but thankfully, it cools down at night, cool enough to tolerate Joel’s hand on your inner thigh just above your knee, drawing little circles absentmindedly against your skin. 

You’re in that matching pajama set that Joel loves. Nothing fancy, just a thin shirt and shorts, not particularly sexy by any means, but you catch the way his pupils dilate every time you wear it. You wore it intentionally tonight, not to seduce him necessarily, at three months postpartum, you still don’t feel quite ready for sexual activity, but you were hoping to make him a little more open to taking you outside the wall. 

Your little expeditions outside had quickly died once he learned of your pregnancy, not that you were very interested at that point either, feeling slow and uncomfortable, but you have an inkling that he might be resistant at first. 

“Joel?” You roll onto your stomach, hand spreading across his stomach and chest.  

His eyes dart to yours, suspicion crawling over his face as he chimes back with an antiquated “Yes, dear?”

You crinkle your face. “What are we? A sitcom couple in the 50’s?”

He chuckles as he dog ears the book, setting it on the nightstand. He’s careful to keep a cap on his volume so he doesn’t wake Willa sleeping in the corner. “You want something.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

You narrow your eyes at him, making his head tip back with another chuckle. His large hands slide over your body, guiding you to straddle his lap. There’s still an ache in your pelvic floor with the stretch, making you wonder if you’ll actually be able to withstand the horseback ride, but you want to go lay in the wildflowers with Joel like you did last year. 

“You okay, Sweetheart?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, and the ache is slowly easing away. 

Joel’s hands roam your exposed thighs, kneading at the extra weight you’re carrying from the pregnancy. He loves it all, the extra pieces of you available to his hands now. Joel hums, still suspicious. 

“You have the day off tomorrow, we should go see the wildflowers.”  

Joel raises an eyebrow. “What about Willa?”

“We can make it there and back before she needs to be fed, and Maria already said she could watch both of the kids.”

“Are you ready for that?” 

“I want to go.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Joel meets your eyes with stern concern, letting you know there’s no room except for the absolute truth. 

“Joel-”

“I’m not taking you out there unless I know you’ll be okay.” There’s something more than concern in his features now. Is that fear? “We’ve never had any issues out there, but I’m not going to risk putting you in harm's way if you’re not ready.” 

You let out a long sigh. He takes one of your hands in his, kissing your fingers gently. “The ride there and back will be difficult. I haven’t been on a horse in months and I’m still a bit sore at times.” 

Joel lets out a long sigh, rolling the idea through his mind, working through the logistics. You can tell, he wants to take you. “I’m not sure, Darlin.”

“We’ve been going on walks for weeks.”

“Because that’s comparable to running for your life after riding on horseback.”

“Joel.” 

“Promise me you won’t slow up if something happens, and you’ll let me know if you need to turn around.”

A smile spreads across your face. “Cross my heart.”

He smiles at you and you know you’ve won. “Okay.”

Joel spreads the blanket out in the meadow as you take in the smattering of color sprawling around you. They’re more vibrant than last year, having had more rain this spring and summer. In the distance, a woodpecker knocks at the trunk of a tree. Dragonflies chase after each other as the sun soaks into your skin. 

Joel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you into his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sway in the gentle breeze.  “How you feelin?” he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck. 

You lean back against him, tilting your head toward the sun to soak it in. “Like I had a baby three months ago and then rode a horse.” 

“Think you can make it to the ground?”

“Not sure I’ll be able to make it back up,” you laugh as Joel helps you ease to the ground. 

“Makes two of us,” Joel chuckles, sitting down. 

You lounge against him, both of you enjoying the sounds of nature and the peace around you. It’s hot, the sun beating down unencumbered, but neither of you minds. Neither of you tries to distance yourself from the other’s body heat. The gentle breeze floats over your skin. The two of you watch as a yellow butterfly lands on your boot, easing its wing open and shut before taking back off. Just like last summer, it feels magical here. Like you can forget the rest of the world and its dangers and simply be present. 

Joel stretches his legs and then he’s pulling backward so that you’re both fully stretched out on the blanket. Your jean clad legs tangle with each other as you nuzzle into his side. His fingers play over your shoulder blades, exposed by your razorback top. 

You’re pulled back to just over a year ago, when he brought you here for the first time, the words he almost said, the ones you wouldn’t let him say, and how much life has changed since then. The losses, the gains, Willa. Your heart has opened so much. 

Joel nudges you onto your back, lips nipping in your neck, just under your earlobe, and down your jaw. You laugh, sun dazed and relaxed.  He lets out a content huff that spreads into a deep chuckle as his hand sprawls over your abdomen. You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

 You see that look again. The same one from last year, the one you’ve seen every day since. He looks at you like you hold the world in your hands as the sun glistens off his deep brown eyes, You feeling it radiating off of him in waves, surging toward the surface. 

His thumb runs over your bottom lip. “Gonna let me say it this time, Sweetheart?”

Your head lilts softly, absorbing him and everything about this moment. The way nature seems to hold its very breath in anticipation as the breeze stops and the critters go silent. You push back one of his curls with your thumb, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as a small ball of energy forms in your stomach. 

“I’m not gonna stop you.”

He smiles, the chuckle in his chest taking its time to reach your ears. He savors it, much like you just did, taking in everything about you in this moment. The tilt of your head, the light in your eyes. You’ve been his, but you’re giving him all of you in this moment. He’s not going to take it for granted. 

“I love you.”

All the anxiety you feared would manifest, melts away, swept away as the breeze rustles through the meadow again. Pure, unbridled joy cascades through your body until it bubbles over into your face, thrumming in your veins as it manifests in the purest laugh at your lips. 

“I love you, Joel.” 

Bonus: Art Work

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

[eupheme]

“you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me.” Or “I can’t get enough of you” / “Does that feel good?” Prompts for Edward Deegan, please :]

ahh I can’t tell you how excited I was to get a Deegan request!!! I tried to do a little something with each one you listed - they were so good, thank you!! 💖

— only you (and you alone)

edward deegan x sole!survivor!reader

rated e | <1k words

prompts: “you're mine, & i take care of what belongs to me.”/“I can’t get enough of you”/“Does that feel good?”

tags: tiny bit of cabot slander (sorry), references to ghoulification, soft smut, feelings, PiV - an exploration of deegan's feelings towards sole!reader

Maybe, in the old days, he might have been embarrassed. The bare mattress on the old, creaking bedframe - he knows you both have memories of finery. Of what romance should be, what he could never give you - still thinking you deserve better, in the silence between dusk and dawn.

Edward Deegan has seen much, in the long years he's walked the Wasteland. There wasn’t a lot that surprised him anymore - not in the two hundred and some years that had passed since this all began.

Miles trekked across the Commonwealth in those early days, until his skin burned with radiation. Skin tightening, sloughing off.

Those now-blurry days of sickness, where he had begged for it all to just end. Only to come out on the other side - forever changed, and forever living.

Forever bound to the Cabots, with all their family secrets. As loyal and fierce as a old dog, after everything they've done for him.

With you in the picture, though - that dedication tips towards something that resembles real affection.

Because tonight, he's glad for his own room - that narrow space, tucked away in the basement. It sometimes felt so small, with the wide breath of his shoulders. All that shed armor piling up at night against the trunk in the corner, pieces creeping across the cracked concrete.

Suffocating, compared to the vast house and the sprawling floors, hidden rooms. All that empty space, untouched for decades.

Edward had never said anything. He had always known his place, and it wasn't his to question. Never even occured to him to think about it, until one of your early, off-handed remarks had him bristling. An urge to defend his employers, until he realized your comment had been wrapped in concern for him.

But if his room had been bigger - if for some reason, the house had been his for the night - then he wouldn't be so wrapped up in you now. He likes the way you cling to him, laid out bare beneath him on his bed and looking like you belong there.

Edward had always been good with hunches, but he still can't believe the luck that had led him to meeting you outside Bunker Hill. How he had been curious, and then pleasantly surprised - again, a rarity - when your reputation held strong.

When you had stuck around, after.

And then once more, when you had boldly stepped over the line of hired help, and became something more.

Always so good at following orders - and you do so here, too. Lips parted on a sigh as you answer his commands.

“Does that feel good? Tell me, doll.”

He always wants to know, and you always answer.

“Yes. So good baby, don’t stop-”

Now, with the walls closing in, your moans echo. Music to his ears, his own sounds bitten back and swallowed, so he can hear more of yours.

How they fill the small space, surrounding him like your embrace. The strong grip of your soft hands, where they anchor against his shoulder, the curve of his neck. Clinging to him as he grinds himself deep into the tight clench of your cunt.

Making every second count.

These visits too few and far between. His loyalties lie here, his trips outside governed.

You’re already stretched thin, making a name for yourself. But you always end up finding your way back here, if only for a night.

Maybe, in the old days, he might have been embarrassed. The bare mattress on the old, creaking bedframe - he knows you both have memories of finery. Of what romance should be, what he could never give you - still thinking you deserve better, in the silence between dusk and dawn.

Things he won’t say out loud, because he can already see your expression - the anger held in the pull of your brow, the narrowed slit of your eyes. A look so often thrown at others, but so rarely at him.

You had never batted an eye at any of it. Of his arrangement, of him.

If it was good enough for him, if he was there, it was good enough for you.

Always enough.

And as he brings his mouth down to yours - he feels how your heart mirrors his. Pounding beneath your skin, under the careful press of his thumb where his broad hand spans your throat.

Your lips greedily meeting his, hips rocking to meet the grindof his hips. Sighing with the soft swipe of your tongue against his, pulling back to murmur soft words and praise and his name - all things that will have to keep him until next time.

He’s never owned much, but tonight you’re his.

And he always takes care of what belongs to him.

His fingers swirl against your clit, tight circles that have you moaning into his mouth. Thighs tightening where they hook around his hips, urging him deeper. Your nails biting into the meat of his shoulders, pinching with each pound of his cock.

His cheek brushes against your nose, as he allows himself to want.

Committing to memory the sound of your cry as it breaks - pitching high, as you tremble beneath him. A warmth that starts somewhere behind his ribs before it pools low in his belly - feeling the way you flutter around his aching cock for the second time that night.

He’ll aim for one more before sunrise.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

It’s a confession - murmured quietly into your hair, unheard as you drift back down.

And just this once - he wishes for something more.

ahh anon thanks so much for sending this in! I love him & was so excited to get this!! 💖 and thank you so much for reading!!

[kaladinkholins]

I was wondering, what do u think Taigen reaction to finding out about Mizu being a woman will be? Although I don’t think he will have a bad reaction I wanted to know what u thought about it?

OOH I like this question because the thoughts on this have been swirling around in my brain for a while and I don't think I ever properly talked about this, outside of maybe this post (which is barely coherent imo). There, I compared Mizu/Taigen to Mizu/Mikio, as well as to the main romantic couple in the movie Yentl. Then from both those comparisons, I tried to speculate on Taigen's reaction to Mizu's gender reveal, based on what would make the most narrative sense.

However, I didn't really analyse Taigen himself in that post, and neither did I ever come up with a concrete conclusion to what his reaction may be. So this ask gives me a good chance to speculate even further and hopefully come up with a proper and more in-depth answer.

Similar to you, anon, I don't think Taigen will have a bad reaction per se, though I guess it depends on what you'd define by bad.

Because this is Taigen we're talking about, I don't think he'd exactly be chill about it. He's very much a drama queen, especially around Mizu, as he's never afraid of stepping on her toes, and thus will vocalise his feelings to her whenever he's feeling them. That, combined with his short temper and his brashness, means that there's almost certainly going to be conflict when he finds out the truth. He will be shocked, and because he's immature, he'll be angry and upset because of this shock. Simply because he doesn't know, and hasn't yet learned, how to deal with his emotions in any other way besides getting angry.

So I think that will definitely be his first instinct. To get upset.

I don't think he'd immediately know why he's upset. Maybe only after a few minutes of angry questioning (think something along the lines of "Why are you telling me this now?!" and "You've been hiding this all this time?!"), he'd finally come up with some tangible cause for his anger.

What would the cause for his anger be then? Well, it could be several things.

Possible Reason #1

He feels "betrayed" because Mizu didn't trust him enough with the truth even after the two have grown close, and after Taigen has put his life on the line for her numerous times.

Possible Reason #2

He feels "cheated" because Mizu is not the man he'd believed she was, thus making it feel like their entire friendship was a sham. This is because the basis for their relationship, in the way he'd related to her, bullied her, envied her, admired her, allied himself with her, and eventually grown attracted to her, had been entirely based off the premise and belief that Mizu is his fellow man, his peer, comrade, and fellow samurai. Thus, discovering that Mizu is not a man would, initially, feel like all of that has been ripped away from him. And this is actually related to the third possible reason.

Possible Reason #3

This is a big one, and the reason everyone, including myself, is putting their bets on: misogyny.

Essentially, Taigen would find out that this whole time, the person he'd been envious of and struggling to beat in every single fight, is not a man, but a woman. And as far as he knows, even if women in feudal Japan could once be warriors (see: the Onna-musha), perceptions have since changed by the time of the Edo period. Furthermore, even if women could fight, men were still expected to be stronger, because men are supposed to protect women.

However, I believe that Taigen's particular flavour of misogyny is a little different, in that he does not view women as "inferior." Because remember, his fiancee was Akemi. This was a woman who took no shits! She was snarky and playful and intelligent, and moreover she was a princess, superior to him in every way, and he knew and respected all of that, and respected her as an individual who could make her own choices. When she'd told him the news of their engagement, Taigen asked her, "He's [your father] sure? You're sure?" And then, when she tried to seduce him in Ep 2, he asked her, "Akemi, are you sure?"

His respect for her is the only reason why Akemi had been so desperate to marry him in the first place. She did not love him, but knew he would be good to her. Because she could not guarantee that any other man would treat her nicely as he would.

Thus, with that being said, I don't think Taigen is some "alpha male dudebro" who thinks women belong in the kitchen etc. Instead, I think Taigen simply believes women are just... different from men. So it's not that women can't or shouldn't fight, it's that they just don't. It's not that women can't or shouldn't be friends with men on equal footing, it's just that they aren't. You get what I'm saying?

It's like, imagine your whole life, you're told, and fully led to believe, that a lamp can't light up. They're just meant to be in your house as decoration. And then suddenly, you find out that your lamp lights up! And you're like, "OMG a lamp is lighting up! How is it doing that?! I thought light only comes from candles and the sun! This can't be right, I thought lamps never light up! Isn't that a fundamental part of their design?"

Now, put aside that this is a pretty bad analogy because it's 1am as I'm writing this and I can't think of a better one atm, but I hope the point comes across, in that this is clear-cut misogyny (I'm comparing women to a piece of furniture here on purpose), but the lucky thing about this particular flavour of misogyny is that it's rooted in ignorance, and is not inherently malicious. It can be, but it isn't necessarily.

Ignorance can be undone through learning and educating oneself. And luckily for us, my friends, educating oneself out of ignorance is the entire point of Taigen's character! He represents the uneducated masses who blindly follow the flow of the fucked up system. This is in contrast to Mizu who has never had a place within the system to begin with, Akemi who has spent her whole life struggling to go against the grain of the system, and Ringo who has always tried to follow the system, but due to his disability, is denied full access to it.

Thus, we've already seen him take the first steps to unlearn his xenophobic and racial prejudice, and we've also seen him start shedding his massive ego and desire for glory, which are both used to mask his own insecurities. If Netflix gives us all 4 planned seasons, then we have 3 more seasons for Taigen to fully grow out these backwards mindsets and finally reach his full potential to become—not a good man—but a great one.

THEREFORE, whatever the reason for his upset at discovering Mizu's gender, I firmly believe that Taigen will get over himself in the end, regardless of whether his anger stemmed from his misogyny, hurt, confusion, or whatever else.

Because Taigen's short temper and emotional immaturity is born from him spending his whole life on the move. Unlike Mizu, who is always alone with her thoughts and meditates constantly to try to cleanse herself of her restless emotions, Taigen is used to surrounding himself with people (see:him in the Shindo Dojo) and ignoring his emotions completely (see:him trying to forget Kohama). Which is why, when he does feel anything, it's overwhelming, and he doesn't know what else to do with it except let it out, usually in an angry outburst. Only when given the proper chance to reflect in Kohama in Ep7, does Taigen finally go through some substantial growth and start feeling remorse over how he'd treated Mizu.

Hence, I suspect something similar will happen when he discovers Mizu's gender, in which he will get upset and shocked and confused first, but then he'll reflect and regret and try to make up for his past behaviour.

And this is what I meant earlier when I said that I don't think he'll 't have a "bad reaction."

Essentially, it is my belief that his reaction will not follow in the footsteps of Mikio's, but instead, directly oppose and subvert that. This is related to the points I referenced in the post I linked above, but also, more importantly, because Taigen and Mikio are narrative foils.

Thus, where Mikio had betrayed Mizu and left her for dead, I believe Taigen will, at the end of the day, remain loyal and continue to fight by her side until the very end.

Because the thing about Taigen, as a person, outside of all the attitudes and prejudices that have been ingrained into him, is his relentless devotion. He gives himself into everything he does, puts in his all, and does not do things halfway. That's what makes him such a good soldier. He does not lead, but follows. He is inherently self-sacrificing and driven by a desire to protect, and we see this in how protective he is of Mizu to the point of enduring torture for her and telling her to use him as a human shield; how his first instinct upon hearing Akemi had been dragged off to get married against her will, is to get up and try to go to her; and how, when hearing the shogunate is in danger, he immediately goes straight to Edo palace to try to warn the shogun, even if it might get him killed in the process.

I could go on about why I think this is what makes him so good for Mizu (because Mizu's arc, especially in Season 1, is literally about accepting help and opening herself up to others) but this post is already atrociously long, so I'll just leave it at that.

So, anon, I hope I answered your question! I'm sorry I can never give short answers though, but I think at this point, it's to be expected from me lol. Thank you for the ask btw! And on that note, my inbox is always open for more 👀

[loveesiren]

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 - 𝖢.𝖲. (𝖯𝗍. 3)

Disclaimer: Hate hate hate this chapter but some of y'all were getting mean so here is chapter 3. I think it's trash. My motivation has been shit lately so we'll see where this story goes.

Synopsis: Y/n runs away from her problems

Warnings: Language, heroin use, angst, 18+

Word Count: 2.8k+

Chris’s POV

I swear I was going to lose my fucking my mind in this tiny concrete room. I hadn’t even been in here for two hours and the anxiety was taking over. The cop sat at his desk, sipping his coffee loudly while watching a football game on a small tv that faced away from me. I was going to have to sit here until Monday morning and all I had to do was think. 

A million thoughts ran through my head. I’m sure Matt and Nick already called our parents and they were going to be pissed beyond belief. Luckily our podcast was pre-recorded but if I’m not out soon news is going to get around that I’m in here. But most of all, I thought about Y/n. She seemed so upset. I knew she was blaming herself for this and I prayed she wouldn’t do anything stupid. I know how vulnerable she can get when she’s down. But I know Matt and Nick will look out for her.

“Yo, don’t I get a phone call or something?” I asked the cop.

He responded with a long sigh, as if my question was making his entire job more difficult. I furrowed my brows at him, awaiting his response. “Fine.” He finally said. He got up and unlocked the cell door before leading me over to the phone. “You got two minutes, kid.”

I nodded and picked up the phone. I dialed Nick’s number, knowing he was most likely to answer.

“Hello?”

“Nick? Hey! It’s Chris!”

“Chris! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I responded. I could hear Matt in the background and Nick switched his phone to speaker.

“Chris, we'll bond you out first thing after your hearing on Monday! Mom and dad already hired a lawyer.” Matt said.

I sighed, knowing how disappointed they were going to be. “Cool. Cool. Uhhh can I talk to Y/n?”

Matt and Nick were both silent for a few moments. “Uhm…she’s not here…”

“Well where is she?”

“I’m not sure…”

I could hear the change in Nicks voice. Something was wrong. “What’s going on? Why are you talking like that?”

“Well…She uhm…Her and Matt kind of-”

“I kicked her out!”

“You did what?!”

“She’s always gotten you into trouble, Chris. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to see you ruin your life over her. I know you’re like in love with her or whatever but-”

“Go find her. Now!” I spat. “You don’t fucking understand, Matt. You don’t fucking understand what you did! Go find her and make sure she is fucking safe!”

“Chris, what do you mean?”

“Now!” I slammed the phone down on the receiver.

“Watch it!” The cop said. I bit my tongue and followed him back to my cell. 

I sat in the corner of the tiny bed and buried my head in my knees, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I loved Y/n more than anything in the entire world and I knew her better than anyone. I was the only one who knew she experimented with opioids. I tried them with her but I noticed how she started using them to numb her pain and I quit. After having to Narcan her TWICE I made her promise to never touch them again. I threatened to tell her parents. I told her I would take her to rehab. She begged me not to. I know I should have but she swore to me she wouldn’t touch them again. I helped her through her withdrawals and over the last two years she’d been true to her word as far as I knew. I mean I was with her most of the time and never saw her use or act shady. But now I wasn’t there when she needed me and who knows what Matt said to her. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! I couldn’t stop the tears from falling now. My whole body was shaking with anxiety.

Y/n’s POV

“Y/n! Y/N!” Danny yelled, kicking my foot. I jolted awake and struggled to see through blurred vision. I rubbed my eyes and slowly took in my surroundings as an overwhelming wave of nausea took over my body. 

“Ugh, what?” 

“Your phone’s been ringing non stop! Fucking answer it or turn it off. It’s annoying.”

I felt for my phone as previous events returned to my memory. Chris was arrested. I got in a fight with Matt. One thing led to the next and I somehow ended up at Danny’s house smacked out of my mind. I wasn’t proud of this. But remembering what Matt said to me, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. 

My phone started ringing again and I was able to find it between the cushions of Danny’s old, cigarette stained couch. The screen lit up with Matt’s name and I could feel the bile rising in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind me. I sat on the floor, heaving over the toilet, but not much came out. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I didn’t even know what day it was. I sat back and pulled out my phone. 13 missed calls from Matt and Nick combined. 5 from my mother along with three texts asking where I was. A missed call from an unknown number. To top it all off, it was 6:23 pm on Sunday. What the hell had happened in the last day and a half? 

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, a stained crop top clung to my malnourished frame and a pair of baggy sweatpants (that didn’t belong to me) were tied tightly to my waist. I looked at the fresh track marks on my arm, a trail of dried blood leading halfway down my forearm. I was disappointed in myself. I promised Chris I would never go back to this. But it was too late now. I pulled my phone back out, ignoring all the messages from Matt and Nick and opening the text thread with my mom. I typed out a quick message. 

Hey mom, I’m fine. Haven’t been feeling great this weekend so I’ve been sleeping. Didn’t mean to worry you.

Not three seconds after I sent it, she was calling me. I sighed, really not in any head space to talk to her but I knew I was already on her last nerve so I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello?” I definitely sounded sick.

“Y/n! Honey! Where are you?! Are you okay?!”

“I-I’m fine, mom. I’m at home. I’m just a little sick.”

“Nick and Matt said you weren’t at your house! They were just there!”

Fuck. Why the fuck had they come by?

“I just stepped out to get some medicine. I just got back.” I lied.

The lie seemed to calm her down a bit. “MaryLou told us what happened to Chris. We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” 

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine. Matt and Nick are going to bail him out tomorrow.” I felt nauseous again thinking about it. I didn’t know what to expect when Chris got out. I wasn’t great with confrontation and after the situation with Matt and relapsing with Danny, I didn’t really want to face Chris. “Uhm, mom, some friends asked me to go camping for a few days. So my service might be spotty.”

“I thought you were sick?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just like food poisoning or something. I should be better by tomorrow. But I’ll call you when I can, okay?”

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay? If something is wrong you can tell us, we can come out there…”

“No, I’m fine mom. I promise. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I love you!”

With that, I hung up on her and quickly exited the bathroom. “Danny, let’s go.”

“Go where?” He asked. 

“I-I don’t know. San Diego or something? I just need to get out of here before Chris gets out tomorrow?”

“Why? I thought you looooved him.” Danny mocked. “You’ve been mumbling about him non stop.” He sighed and sat back.

Danny liked you. That wasn’t a secret. He wasn’t bad looking. But he was a “bad boy”. His main job was drug dealing. He hung around with shady people, did shady shit, and hated on people like the Sturniolo’s for being in the public eye. Even though you were getting into your modeling career, Danny didn’t seem to care. You didn’t believe Danny’s feelings were deep. You didn’t believe Danny was capable of deep feelings or love. But you were hot and you had him wrapped around your finger.

“I-I can’t face Chris like this. I just want to get away from here. Please?” 

“My cousin has a condo down in Chula Vista. It’s right by the beach. I could call him.”

“Okay. I’m gonna run to my apartment and grab some things.”

I left Danny’s apartment, and ran up to mine. I grabbed a duffle bag from my closet and grabbed some clothes, a toothbrush, and some deodorant. The basic necessities. I was almost done packing when I heard a knock on my door. 

“Coming!” I said, assuming it was Danny. I threw my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door. I swung it open, ready to go but stopped in my tracks when I saw Matt standing in front of me. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked.

It was hard to find my voice. My mind was a mess and my body was hurting. I needed a fix. “Uhm- Camping. With some friends.”

“Camping with friends. What friends?” Matt asked, stepping into my apartment now. 

“Just some friends. You don’t know them.” It was somewhat true. Nick and Matt didn’t know Danny. Hence why they couldn’t find me earlier. But lying to my mom about camping with friends was one thing. She didn’t know my social circle out here. Chris, Nick, and Matt on the other hand, pretty much were my social circle. We shared the same friends. If I really was to go camping with friends, chances are they’d be coming too. 

“Look, Y/n. I’m sorry for what I said yesterday…I was just upset and it was wrong of me to blame it on you.” I didn’t know how to respond so I just looked to the floor. “Chris is really going to want to see you tomorrow and-” He stopped, noticing my arms. He grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm into view. “Y/n, what the fuck happened to your arms?! Have you been shooting up?!”

“Ready to go, Princess? My cousin said-” Danny appeared in my doorway. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” Danny said with his skeezy smile. 

Matt looked him up and down before looking back at me. Danny had on tight jeans with chains and a sleeveless band shirt. He reeked of cigarette smoke and I knew Matt was judging me.

“This is who you’re going camping with?” Matt asked.

“Look, I gotta go…” I said pushing past Matt and locking my door. 

“So you’re just going to dip out on Chris?” Matt asks. “Come on Y/n. You’re better than this guy!”

“Excuse me?” Danny asks, turning to face Matt. I step in front of Danny, putting my hand on his chest. 

“Matt. You said it yourself. I’m no good for Chris…” 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine. I gotta go. Take care of him, okay?” 

With that, I grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him along with me down to his car to avoid any further conversation with Matt. I noticed his van with Nick inside sitting in the parking lot. He looked confused. I looked away and climbed into Danny’s car, urging him to drive away. 

Danny offered me a cigarette and I took it. Remaining quiet as I sparked it. He didn’t ask questions. But he did place his hand on my knee as he drove. “You don’t need them, Princess. I’ll take care of you.”

The words made my stomach twist into a knot. I wanted Chris. But Matt was right. I didn’t deserve him. I was exactly where I deserved to be. “You got any more dope?” 

“Gonna pick some up on our way, don’t worry.” He smiled at me. I attempted a half ass smile as I bit back the urge to cry. I looked down at my phone, studying the photo of me and Chris I had set as my wallpaper. It was a silly photo of us in highschool. We were both laughing, I was on Chris’s back as he ran down the hall with me. It was a time in my life I was truly happy. 

I shut my phone off and threw it in my bag, focusing on the world passing by through the window of Danny’s old BMW. I knew this wasn’t the right move but I was never good at confronting my problems and the promise of an escape and drugs was enough to leave LA and Chris behind me.

Chris���s POV

I sat silently while the judge went over my charges. Cameron Jacobs and his family sat and watched with smug looks on their faces. Matt and Nick sat on the opposite side of the courtroom, ready to bail me out. I was disappointed when they showed up without Y/n. 

The judge set my bond to $5,000 and gave me another court date. By noon, I was gathering my things and climbing into the van. Nick was hounding me with questions while Matt remained relatively quiet. 

“So where’s Y/n?” I asked, no longer wanting to think about the trouble I was in or the fact that I would have to call my parents when I got home and get my ass chewed out, or the fact that we were out five grand. “Why didn’t she come?” My voice cracked.

Nick looked at Matt, seeing if he would admit what happened. Matt remained silent. “Matt…”

“Where is she, Matt?” I asked. 

“Look Chris-”

“No tell me the fucking truth! It’s your fault she fucking left in the first place. Where is she?!”

Matt sighed. “I went to her place last night. She left with some sleaze bag. Said she was going camping…” 

“Dude with combat boots, covered in shitty tattoos, smelled like cigarettes?” I asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Danny.” I hissed. He was such a piece of shit. Always trying to get in Y/n’s pants. He was a slimy drug dealer and now she was God knows where with him. 

“She had, uhm…she had track marks on her arms…” Matt said. 

I tried to take a deep breath but I was beyond livid. “Pull over.” I said as calmly as I could. 

“What? Why?” Nick asked.

“Pull the fucking car over!” 

Matt did as I asked and I climbed out, slamming the door behind me before walking off down the street. 

“Chris! Where are you going?!” Matt asked as him and Nick chased after me. I really didn’t want to be near him right now.

“Fuck off, Matt!” 

“You have to fucking talk to me, man!” He said, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to look at him. I pushed him off of me and Nick was quick to catch him before he fell. 

“This is your fucking fault!” I yelled. “Why the fuck would you say those things to her, Matt? She’s been our best friend our whole lives! This is your fucking fault!”

“I was just looking out for you! It’s not my fault she’s a drug addict, man!”

I threw myself at Matt, punching him in the eye. He fought back but it didn’t last long before Nick was separating us. 

“Stop it! What the hell is the matter with you guys?!” Nick yelled. “Chris, you just got out of jail for fucking assault. Beating up your own brother isn’t going to get you anywhere! And Matt, you were wrong for what you said to Y/n. But we aren’t going to find her if you end up back in jail and don’t work together. So both of you get in the fucking car and let’s go home and figure something out.”

As much as I hated Matt right now, Nick was right. All I really cared about was finding Y/n and I was going to need help doing that. I climbed back into the car silently and endured the ride home. I had tried texting and calling Y/n earlier but it went straight to voicemail. I typed out one more text. 

Y/n, please be okay. I’m so worried about you. Fuck whatever Matt said. You mean everything to me. Please just text me back when you get this so I know you’re okay. I love you…

Tags:@strniohoeee@daisysturniolo.@justangelheree@flowerxbunnie@recklesssturniolo@lustfulslxt@mangosrar@bluesturniolo333@christinarowie332@kenzieiskoolaid@sturniolopepsi@mattenthusiast@ilovecrazymen@sturnphilia@poopydroopt@miaakenn

[assortedvillainvault]

Hello! If it's okay to request/ask, headcannon of TFA Blitzwing (each of his personalities) x Reader? Reader has a split or multiple personality. Kinda like Jekyll and Hyde (but sometimes a softie w/ close/loved ones, family/friends), if you're familiar with it. Can be Romantic and/or platonic…

(Gender-neutral/Female) Reader's a human and they aren't involved with any cybertronians situations…

(PS. Thank you if you answer this! if not, I'll enjoy your stuff either way.)

Hi Anon! I’ve been thinking about this one for a while! Sorry for the wait, I have a little bit of history with DID (as in I don’t suffer personally, but have been close with others that do), so wanted to get this one right. Blitwing was unironically a comfort character originally due to said struggles and trying to strike a balance between ‘funky space-german giant robot villain’ and ‘this is a serious real life condition with a lot of misinformation and prejudices’ can get a tad challenging.

Anyhoo, Long post alert. DID is discussed but no real warnings for this one. Lets go!

Blitzwing x DID!Reader

- DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) results in humans having multiple, distinct personalities – from as few as 3 or 4 (like our favourite triplechanger) to up to 100 in some cases. The Jekyll & Hyde - esque nature of yours is something you’re at least slightly grateful for – at least it’s simple!

- Granted, it doesn’t really help when your city is attacked by giant space robots. Repeatedly. Every week. Both personalities agree it’s a pain in the neck – switching out and coming-to mid war zone with no warning isn’t exactly relaxing.

- Your first meeting was very subtle. Crawled behind overturned cars and bridge rubble, ducking down as the buildings behind you were ripped up with a squeal of steel and concrete. An enormous giant tank/plane/robot shaking the ground, hollering with rage at a bright yellow little car zooming in the distance.

- “JOU PATHETIC LITTLE BUG!! I’LL - cUt JoU iNtO iTTy BiTtY stReaMerS!! HAhAha vE’re gOnNa haVe a PaRty – at jour base, perhaps, now zat ve know where it is, Autobot~”

- You couldn’t believe your fucking eyes -

- “Holy Shit SAME HAT?!”

- Red eyes snap to your dumbfounded expression, narrowing.

- Yeah. Maybe hollering it across no mans land wasn’t the smartest move.

Icy:

- He had no idea his affliction could be shared with organics. He didn’t even realise he was witnessing DID at first as you can’t literally switch faces. Come to think of it – I’m not sure cybertronians even have a word for it. He adopts your terms like a duck to water.

- Of the three he’s the most fascinated observer. He’s quick to document any minor tone shifts or facial expressions to indicate a switch between your two personalities – as well as the speed at which you change, your stressors and mannerisms. He can’t imagine dealing well if someone were to – somehow – get his alters mixed up, so he takes pains to greet both personalities properly.

- Is more likely the one to ask questions and approach the subject scientifically: though he will back off if the ‘Jekyll’ personality gets in his face about being treated like a science experiment. He knows the feeling and despises it.

- Just because he’s calm about it though, doesn’t mean he’s moralistic. Icy has a known sadistic streak and enjoys setting up situations to hurt people (see: the almost-murder of the Constructobots) so he’d be… intrigued to see how far your aspects were willing to go. He’s an enabler of destructive behaviour that specialises in not getting you caught.

Hothead:

- Hothead, by contrast – is much more reactive: blunt and easily confused.

- He will likely get your alters mixed up and become flustered and annoyed until he gets the hang of who is presenting when. Give him a bit, he despises asking Icy for help with anything.

- Yeah, of course he can – what do you MEAN you can’t communicate with your alters internally?? Do organics not come with a built in comm?? What the FRAG-

- He doesn’t like feeling out of sorts about finding someone with his condition. As far as he’d known, they were the only one ever to be split as they are. Someone who knows what it’s like, while desperately needed, is now almost unnerving.

- But he is an excellent vent buddy about multiple personality issues. If your alters want to chat shit about each other then Hothead is DOWN, he has a list of complaints about Icy and Random a mile long – even though airing them gets him interrupted by said alters all the damn time.

- Hothead will encourage violent coping mechanisms to your problems: if you have someone bothering you with some horror-movie assumptive bullshit about your disorder he is 1000% percent encouraging you to lure them behind a building for him to grind under his pedes.

Random:

- NEW FRIENDS?! New friends INSIDE of friends, oh he just wants to stuff you in his mouth and unravel you -

- Random is probably the first of the three to recognise your shared disorder. And when he gleefully tells his alters they don’t believe him (at least at first). Which doesn’t matter because you are now BEST FRIENDS. He’s gonna scoop you up and stuff you in his cockpit and make you a little hole in the mines riiiiiiight next to his berth. Don’t worry about telling him yes - he already knows your address!

- No matter how threatening you might think yourself to be, to Random you are the most adorable schmoopsie moo in the whole galaxy and he will commit war crimes to have you tucked into his pockets.

- Do not. Try him. In one-upmanship. Random knows exactly how far he will go to keep you with him and unlike Icy, who prefers to observe from a distance, Random will actively engage in finding very uncomfortable boundaries very quickly. Pretty much the only way to reign him in is to not play along in the slightest.

- He hates being ignored.

- He wants to hear and know everything about you, and will hop between subjects to a pattern only he knows. He’s exhausting, but probably also the most honest and vulnerable of the personalities.

- With Random, it’s most obvious that Blitzwing has total, universal acceptance of your personalities as they are. No dismissal, no belittling, no questions and no doubt.

- I’d say thats a breath of fresh air.

[bubbloquacious]

Do you have any recommendations for texts for a first reading of category theory? :))

So this is a super common question and I think it's a little hard to give a good answer to! I'll tell you what I did.

Back in the summer of the beautiful year 2019 I had just finished my first year of university mathematics education. I don't remember where I had even heard of the subject, but the first math book I ever self-studied out of was Mac Lane's Categories for the Working Mathematician (the second edition, specifically). It's a good book, I think! But I only really appreciated it on my reread (i.e. my more-than-the-first-three-chapters read) last year. For one, I had not done a lick of topology by this point, and I really do recommend knowing basic topology and basic abstract algebra before getting into categories; it gives you a nice two-pronged approach to view every construction.

So I washed out of that one pretty quickly. I learned the basic definitions of categories, functors, and natural transformations. I could work out what it meant for a product to be the limit of a discrete diagram (super neat when you just learned what a group was five months ago!), but if you asked me to give an example of a pair of adjoint functors that wasn't in the text I would've been stumped (natural transformations between hom-functors? what?).

Over the course of the next semester I got familiar with the basics of topology (and I made this blog!). Now I could see why a lot of Mac Lane's examples were so nice. Compositions of homotopic maps are homotopic, so you can take a quotient category the same way you take a quotient group. The fundamental group is so useful exactly because it is functorial. A map into a product space is continuous precisely when its composition with the projections is continuous. And so on. I sampled some more books. I read the first few chapters of Awodey's Category Theory and of Adámek, Herrlich, and Strecker's Abstract and Concrete Categories. Each offers a slightly different perspective, but every time I would wash out after the first several chapters.

But it was exactly rereading all of these different perspectives that made me grok what it was all about. How to work with these structures. I had limits and colimits pretty much down by this point. Ah, it's not a coincidence that the least upper bound and greatest lower bound are categorical limits, they're expressing the same idea. I realized on my own that not only is the discrete space functor to topological spaces left adjoint to the forgetful functor to sets, the indiscrete (or chaotic, or trivial) space functor is right adjoint. The abelianization of a group or the completion of a metric space are left adjoint to the inclusion functors of abelian groups and complete metric spaces, because a map from a group/metric space into an abelian group/complete metric space determines a unique map (in fact it factors through this map) out of the abelianization/completion. Even though the abelianization makes the group smaller, and the completion makes the space bigger, they're expressing the same relationship.

This went on for a while. I read Bartosz Milewski's blog on Category Theory for Programmers, but I didn't know Haskell so that didn't get me very far. I read a lot of nLab pages (I still do). I read a small bit of Borceux's Handbook of Categorical Algebra, which is very nicely written if you can get your hands on it. I spent a summer in a reading group for Tai-Danae Bradley's Topology: A Categorical Approach (this one's probably a good pick for you in particular!). Like two years ago I played the Natural Number Game (which they changed recently apparently!), which got me really into Lean and proof assistants in general. Playing around with Lean gave me a great appreciation for what category theory brings to the table for logic and computational mathematics. Reading Dan Marsden's blog on monads got me really into monad theory, which is just super cool and I love it very much. I had a brief fling with bicategories, mostly because of the monads. Around this time I made a bunch of explanatory posts on the things I was learning about, and that was just terrifically helpful for my understanding. I read Mac Lane and Eilenberg's original paper introducing categories, General Theory of Natural Equivalences, and it's fascinating to see the perspective that it takes. Last year I got really into sheaf theory by reading Mac Lane and Moerdijk's Sheaves in Geometry and Logic, which finally made me understand the Yoneda Lemma.

These last few examples are what I would call pretty intermediate, as far as categories go. Somehow by reading all these different sources (and progressing in my studies in other mathematical subjects!) I had gathered up enough experience to understand the higher-level structures built on top of the basics. I still don't understand Kan extensions (though I tried reading Riehl's Category Theory in Context to understand it) or fibrations, or model categories, or co/end calculus, but I'm sure I will once the need arises.

So that's my advice! Read as many different introductions to the subject as you can, in as many different contexts as you have the experience for! The power and beauty of category lies in the bridging over the gaps between these contexts. Any of the books I mentioned I would recommend, but really the most important rule of category theory is to have fun and be yourself :-)

[markantonys]

Apologies if you've answered this question before, but if things had gone down differently and Mat hadn't had to have been written out of 1x7 and 1x8, what do you think his s2 arc might have looked like?

an intriguing question!! i believe rafe stated that the original plan was to have the 3 boys on the hunt for the horn as in TGH, but the changes they were forced to make to mat's storyline made them decide to double down on the isolation theme and send rand and perrin off on their own too. and while it was unplanned, i think it actually turned out so perfectly because s1 introduced us to the kids in a group and then in pairs, and splitting them up fully for the bulk of s2 was such a great way to dig deeper into each individual character. in the book perrin and especially mat just kinda get dragged along like sacks of potatoes while the lion's share of the hunt storyline is about rand, so i'm kinda hard-pressed to imagine how those two would've had enough content specific to them in s2 if all 3 of them had been together! (i don't know how far they actually were into planning s2 when all the shit went down during s1 filming, so it could be that rafe's mention of the 3 boys on the hunt was only a vague idea at the time and they never had the chance to nail down too many specifics of what s2 would look like for mat and the other boys.)

now, back to mat. in s1 he had more "reluctant hero" vibes (doesn't want to be a hero, just wants to go home) while in s2 he had more "self-doubting hero" vibes (doesn't think he can be a hero, thinks he's doomed to repeatedly let down the people he loves). and there's definitely some self-doubting hero vibes in s1 mat too and some reluctant hero vibes in s2 mat, and overall Mat Doesn't Think He's A Hero is a consistent throughline of both seasons, but there is a slight shift in WHY mat doesn't think he's a hero, or at least a slight shift in focus on which of a couple reasons is the main one. and this is almost 100% due to The Great Waygate Abandonment, i think. mat for sure had low self-esteem in s1 too, but the s2 arc of "mat is scared that he's a piece of shit who'll keep on abandoning his friends when they need him", that organically grew out of The Great Waygate Abandonment and i don't know if it would've been as much of a focus for his s2 emotional arc if he'd gone with everybody to fal dara as originally planned. as such, while i think him being a hero of the horn would have been the plan regardless, i don't know if that moment would have been framed exactly the same way or would have felt like such a cathartic moment of validation for mat. (but maybe it would have, because like i said s1 mat certainly struggled with his self-worth too. the idea of him being scared of being just like his dad came from 1x01, after all, even if s2 was able to enhance it even more thanks to having a concrete instance where mat failed to show up for his friends.)

and to think that we never would have known the beauty of The Great Cauthor Reunion if The Great Waygate Abandonment hadn't happened! although, in TGH rand gets separated from the group and then mat and perrin (et al) find him again in cairhien, so it IS possible that an original plan for s2 could have still featured rand going off on his own for some portion followed by a cairhien reunion. but it wouldn't have hit nearly as hard if they'd only been separated for a brief time as it did when they hadn't seen each other since the waygate!

The Great Cauthor Stabbening is another interesting thing to ponder. would that still have happened if mat had gone to fal dara? i think so. i suspect that rand getting the shadar logoth wound from mat rather than fain may have always been the plan, because it's just so hard to get fain into rand's storyline and makes a lot more sense to keep him limited to being an antagonist to perrin and mat (like, sure fain could've stabbed rand at falme, but it would just feel kinda random bc the two of them have very little narrative connection to each other even in the books and none whatsoever in the show). i also think it makes sense to switch the wound order so the dagger one comes first because the dagger is never as much of a focus again as it is in the first couple books/seasons, so makes sense to strike while the iron's hot and have rand get the dagger wound early while the dagger is still relevant, and save the shadow wound for later.

and s1 set up mat and fain's relationship and many people have speculated that fain's fal dara scene with perrin was originally supposed to be with mat, so i think the scene of him meeting up with mat in falme and trying to tempt him with the dagger would probably still have happened regardless, and i think mat accidentally stabbing rand with the dagger would probably still have happened too. however, i don't know about the min viewing angle. it's definitely possible that Mat On The Hunt could have still encountered min and the rand stabbing viewing could have still happened, but it's also possible that that viewing and the mat-min meeting grew out of the s1 changes and that in a different version mat would've stabbed rand by accident but not had any prior idea that that was fated to happen, and maybe min would have been involved in the girls' storyline instead like she was in TGH. but then, a preexisting mat-min connection improves the story beat of them both ending up with the seanchan together, so maybe they did plan to have them meet up in s2 regardless (meet up AGAIN in this case since mat would've briefly met her already at fal dara in this version). who knows! it's so interesting to think about all the alternate possibilities, and so delightful to realize that for me personally, none of the alternate mat s2 ideas i've come up with in this post are things i enjoy as much as the version we actually got. saying that they made the best of a difficult unplanned situation is an understatement!

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Requests are open?! Heck yes! I saw you write for fullmetal alchemist and wondered if you could do a one-shot Riza Hawkeye x Reader (they/them) with the both of them being deployed to the Ishval Civil War. At some point during the battle, she loses them from her sight and never sees them again, even after the battle ends. A few years later, they meet again when they are pursuing Scar but stumble upon her. Hope you'll have fun writing this! Love your writing ❤️ take care

When the Dust Settled

Riza Hawkeye x They/Them Reader

A/N: So happy to be doing an FMA request. I do realize now that I’m reading through the request again, I misread who was looking for Scar and who was getting stumbled upon and I think that changed the whole plot of the fic. Hope you still enjoy it! Word Count: 3,458

“Hawkeye… Hawkeye, hey.”

Riza didn’t blink, but she did come to from her hyper-focused fog.

“Yeah?”

“I got your lunch. Put the rifle down and sit up, relax for a few minutes. You’ve been on watch for hours.”

Riza slowly clicked the safety on and lowered her rifle. With a bit of a wince, she sat up, making sure her body was covered by the raised wall of the building they were occupying. She hadn’t realized how stiff she was until just then. She finally looked up at the soldier sitting cross-legged in front of her and managed a tired smile. (Y/n) gave her one of their own and wiggled the two brown paper sacks in their hands before passing one off to her.

They had often eaten their meals together since this godless war began. It was one of the only moments from day to day life that almost made them feel like they were normal people. Well, as long as they ignored the blaring heat of Ishval, the ever present smell of blood, and occasional gun fire in the distance. The ever-present grit of sand.

“What are you gonna do after the war, Riza?” (Y/n) asked after they had gotten through about half of their rationed meal.

“I don’t know,” Riza answered after taking a few sips of warm water, “It’s hard to imagine this war will ever end. How about you? You must have a plan.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” They grinned and Riza rolled her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then.” She smiled, resting her chin against her fist.

“I haven’t worked all the finer details out yet, but I’m gonna help people. I’m gonna take my pay at the end of this and make something that can help struggling people for years to come. Maybe a public garden or a library with a bunch of programs and resources, a school or something like that,” their smile dimmed, “Something that creates instead of destroys.”

Riza straightened out her leg to tap her boot against their’s, “Well, I think that’s a really nice idea. I’m sure you’ll go far.”

“Thanks,” they gave Riza an appreciative look, “and if you don’t ever figure out where you wanna be after this. I could always use your sharp eyes and a helping hand.”

Riza felt her heart swell, “That sounds—“

BOOM!

The building shook and quickly began to crumble below them before another deafening explosion went off. The roof began to collapse in on itself as the concrete crumbled away into the smoke and flames.

“Shit! What’s going on?!” (Y/n) pitched forward and linked an arm over the lip of the wall, holding up Riza with the other as she scrambled to do the same.

They watched in horror as the middle of the roof caved and rubble slid and crunched as the foundation failed. Their legs were suddenly dangling in open air as the building continued to collapse.

Riza’s grip began to slip. Looking down at the billowing smoke and flame, she wondered if this would be her end, but (Y/n) caught her by the wrist before she could fall into the crevice, she looked up to (Y/n)’s strained face and the pale blue sky with billowing smoke like clouds.

“Don’t let go!” (Y/n) yelled over the screams, explosions and gun fire. “Hold on, I’ll swing you up!”

“(Y/n), you can’t.” Riza’s voice was strained, “You’re slipping.”

“Come on,” they put on a smile that looked more like a grimace, “don’t give up on me!”

Riza flung her other arm up to grasp (Y/n)’s and they braced themself, grunting with the exertion of working up a swinging motion. With one last mighty heave, Riza was flung up and over the sinking wall, more like a crumbling concrete floor at this point.

“Quick, grab my hand!” Riza reached out to take (Y/n)’s hand again and bring them up over the top of the wall as well, but just as their fingers brushed, the edge of the wall (Y/n) had been clinging to broke away and (Y/n) slipped through Riza’s fingers.

Riza’s scream was lost over chaos and she watched helplessly as (Y/n) tumbled into the giant fissure that had split the building. They had fallen out of sight in an instant.

Riza felt the building buckle again, trying not to think about the floors below being crushed with more and more weight… a particularly bad jolt occurred, forcing the caved roof to fall several more floors. Riza smacked her head hard against the concrete, falling unconscious as the smoke and sand billowed around her.

***

When Riza opened her eyes, she found herself in a medical tent. The groans and whimpers the soldiers could be heard all around her.

“Hawkeye, are you lucid?”

Her eyes flickered to the side, finding Roy Mustang mirroring the war-hardened eyes she possessed right back at her.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You got a nasty head wound, some cuts and bruises, but the doctor says you’ll be okay. You were lucky you were on the roof.”

“The roof… (Y/n),” Riza attempted to sit up, but Roy kept her down, “(Y/n) fell, are they alright? Please, you have to tell me!”

Roy gave Riza a sorrowful look, “Haven’t found them yet. They’re still pulling soldiers from the wreckage, but the way the building collapsed, there’s no way to scour the whole site without jeopardizing more lives. I’m sorry, but it’s not looking good either way.”

“I can’t believe the Ishvalans would go this far…”

Roy sighed mournfully, “It wasn’t them.”

“What...?”

“It was friendly fire. Apparently the news that the building had been seized hadn’t reached the platoon responsible. It’s all a mess.”

Riza closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing her heart not to break, “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Hawkeye,” Roy stood from his seat when he saw Hughes wave him over from the front of the tent, “I really am.”

“Me too.” Riza murmured as he walked away. She closed her eyes again, willing the burning sensation to go away.

In the end, (Y/n)’s body had been declared unrecoverable, and a few months later, the war had ended. Riza stood in front of the wreckage as soldiers were loaded into those heavy tactical vehicles back to Central, taking one last look at the final resting place they would forever be entombed within. It just wasn’t fair.

“They don’t belong here.” Riza had whispered.

“I don’t think any of us did.” Roy responded. “The last vehicle is loading.”

Riza nodded, but before she joined Roy and the convoy, she crouched in front of the rubble and placed the desert blossom she had found atop the hot stone. She then got up and left, not once looking back because it would simply be much too painful.

***

Four Years Later

“Ow!” (Y/n) exclaimed, “It wouldn’t kill you to be little more gentle, or at least give a warning!”

“Quit crying, in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a cushy Central City hospital.” The doctor grunted, snapping the last connector in place. “Your own fault for picking fights.”

“Hey, those guys started it. Like I was gonna just stand there and let them harass Rick like that.”

“Still gotta be careful though, I’m no mechanic and I’m barely a doctor. That arm’ll be scrap before long if I have to be the one to keep trying to fix it.”

(Y/n) flexed their metal fingers experimentally and they seemed to respond well enough. “Hey, for now it’s perfect. Thanks old man.” They hopped off of the table and jogged to the open flap of the canvas tent.

“Where are you off to now? You should take it easy for a couple minutes at least, let your arm settle.”

“Nah, I have to help with the garden. The raccoons have been trying to tear everything up so we’re building a fence. Can’t let all that planting go to waste!” (Y/n) called over their shoulder before completely exiting the tent.

As fate would have it, (Y/n) had survived the building collapse during the Ishvalan War by the skin of their teeth. They had been crushed below the rubble for a number of days, fading in and out of consciousness. Their blips between sleeping and waking became longer and longer and they found themself wondering when they would awaken for the last time, but the next time they had opened their eyes, they found themself on a cot covered in dingy bandages and one less arm to their name, a name they had a hard time remembering at the moment.

Amnesia, the Ishvalan who had cut them free explained. Even to this day they had a difficult time remembering their past. All they knew for certain from their bloody and torn clothes was their name and that they had been an Amestrian soldier.

As they were slowly fed information about what had been going on around them, they could not understand why those good people had bothered to save them at all. Apparently they had snuck some food to some Ishvalan children on a few occasions and that had played a major role in the rescue efforts.

It had been suggested they find and rejoin their platoon to try to regain more of their memories, but they refused. How they had ever ended up fighting in this awful war, they couldn’t comprehend. They decided they were better off not knowing who they had been before the collapse and after they had healed enough to begin walking on their own, they did everything they could to give back to the Ishvalans who had saved their life.

Now four years after the Civil War, they found themself building up the slums of East City, trying to make life easier for all the refugees that lived there.

They had only just begun pounding stakes into the ground when the whispers began. Apparently the military was sniffing around. They were looking for the scarred Ishvalan that had been in their care days ago. He was long gone now, they wouldn’t find anything and would move on before long. They would all just needed to play nice until then.

“Excuse me.” An oddly familiar voice called.

“Yeah?” (Y/n) didn’t turn around, opting to finish staking the post instead of facing the soldier behind them.

“We are searching for an Ishvalan man of a tall, muscular build with a large, ‘x’ shaped scar across his face. He also has a tattoo that runs around his right arm. Have you seen anyone that fits that description?”

“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

“He’s a very dangerous man. A murderer. You aren’t doing anyone any favors if you are hiding him.”

(Y/n) frowned, but did not waiver, instead they grabbed another post only for it to slip through their fingers when their prosthetic didn’t grip it properly.

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” They heard the soldier say.

She moved to crouch before them and when she reached for the post, she froze, a quiet gasp leaving her lips.

“…(Y/n)?”

They finally met the soldier’s eye. Something about her was very familiar, but their brain couldn’t quite grasp it, but it was clear to them that this blonde, brown-eyed soldier definitely knew them.

“You’re… it’s you, your alive… how?”

Riza didn’t think she should believe it at first, but she would know that face anywhere, it had haunted her nightmares and and pleasant dreams alike.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back?” She asked, getting more heated with each question, taking (Y/n) aback when they saw the raw emotion she displayed.

Riza reached out and grabbed the collar of their shirt, “Say something!”

“I don’t know you!” (Y/n) blurted, then back peddled, “I mean, you seem familiar, but I don’t remember you. I don’t remember a lot from before the collapse. Sorry.”

Riza started openly at (Y/n), her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes snapped down to the bare-bones automail arm that encased her quivering fist.

“Can you let go, please?”

It took all of Riza’s will power to do just that.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.

“Hey, uh, it’s okay.” (Y/n) felt compelled to comfort the woman, “This is kinda a lot to take in I’m sure.”

Riza nodded mutely, unable to take her eyes off of them in fear that they would disappear after a single blink. (Y/n) felt rather drawn to her as well, trying to understand just where she had fit into their life besides being comrades on the wrong side of the war.

“Lieutenant, find anything?”

Both (Y/n) and Riza startled slightly from the addition of a new voice. Riza reluctantly turned and (Y/n) peered around her shoulder to size-up the soldier walking towards them. He sparked something in their brain too.

“Colonel,” Riza had begun to speak,

“Well I’ll be damned.” Roy breathed, “Second Lieutenant (L/n), you have some explaining to do.”

(Y/n) did not appreciate his tone, “Hey, I just told your friend here that I don’t know you people, nor do I owe you anything. My memory may be foggy but I clearly remember the people who saved me, and none of them were either of you.”

Roy bristled and stepped forward, but Riza blocked him off, giving him a warning glare. She could tell the locals around them were getting antsy watching this prolonged interaction.

“If I had even the smallest inkling that you were alive, I would have worked my hands to the bone to remove every slab piece by piece by myself if I had to.” She murmured, the sentiment tugged at (Y/n)’s heart. They must have been very close back then.

“So,” she cleared her throat, “you haven’t seen who we’re looking for, alright then. We will be on our way then. However, may I ask you one last thing?”

(Y/n) gave a brief nod, curious, “Shoot.”

Riza paused briefly when (Y/n) answered her in such a familiar way. Once upon a time a reference to her sharp shooting skills. They probably hadn’t said it on purpose, but it gave Riza hope that perhaps one day they would remember her and all they had been through together.

“Can I talk to you again sometime? I’d like to know more about what happened, what you’ve been up to. Would that be okay?”

(Y/n) knew they didn’t owe the woman anything, but again, their mind was grasping at something they couldn’t quite reach and they felt like this woman held the key. “…I suppose. Maybe leave the uniform at home though, the military presence kind of stresses everyone out.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I guess we’re done here.” Roy grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, Lieutenant. We still have work to do.”

“Right.” Riza was mildly annoyed with the Colonel, but he was right. She had to be professional, Scar was still out there. “I’ll come by in a few days, (Y/n).”

“I’ll be here, Hawkeye.”

“Riza, call me Riza.”

“Riza,” (Y/n) nodded to themself, “Okay Riza, see you later.”

Riza’s lips twitched into a small smile and then she followed Roy back to the car. When they got in, Roy sighed.

“Just be careful, Lieutenant. If the wrong people from the military figure out they survived and never returned to duty, they could be imprisoned for desertion. Not to mention they aren’t the same person you once knew. Don’t let nostalgia overpower your logic.”

“Are you lecturing me, Colonel?” Riza glared.

“Not at all.” Roy smirked. “Just some friendly advice.”

“With all due respect, sir. You can keep your advice to yourself unless asked.”

Roy shrugged and the car drove off.

***

“Easy, Hayate…” Riza cautioned the dog as he excitedly pulled against his leash to survey the area.

Riza felt strangely nervous coming back to visit (Y/n). Without her uniform to hide within, she had changed the outfit she was going to wear out at least three times. She usually didn’t care about such things, but this felt different. Even now she was wondering if she should have worn her hair up as usual instead of down. Why was she second guessing everything?

She noticed a pair of Ishvalan children peering over at Black Hayate with big, excited eyes and smiled.

“He’s friendly if you want to come pet him.”

The children shyly approached, giggling when Hayate licked their fingers. As they visited, Riza took the chance to look around. The East City Slums were an infamous eyesore if you asked the city officials, but honestly Riza had seen worse. The Ishvalan refugees were building from the ground up. Worse than that, building up from the devastation of war.

“Riza, hello.”

Riza turned, finding (Y/n) walking towards her. She found herself wondering how many visits it would take before the surprise would wear off.

“(Y/n), hello, thank you for seeing me.”

“No trouble. Rick, Rio, go help your grandpa for me, will you? He’s trying to rearrange the library again.”

“Ugh, okay…”

“Bye, Hayate!”

The boys ran off, leaving Riza and (Y/n) alone. Riza swallowed under the scrutiny of (Y/n)’s eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“Hm? No, I don’t think so.” (Y/n) shook themself out of it, rubbing the back of their neck. “I just thought you had shorter hair for some reason.”

“I used to,” Riza lit up a bit, perhaps (Y/n) was starting to remember, “I wore it short when we knew each other. I met a girl a couple years ago with long hair and I thought it looked nice so I decided to try growing mine out.”

“Ah, well it does look really nice.” (Y/n) searched for anything more to add or talk about, but came up short. Such was the trouble with memory loss. Their well of stories wasn’t very deep. “Um, cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you.”

…

Yeah, this was awkward. But Riza managed to save it after a minute of weirdly loud silence.

“So you said you have a library here?”

“Surprising, huh?”

“I didn’t mean—“

“Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s definitely not anything amazing, but it’s a start. We’ve been working on building this place up. Of course, when you don’t have the funds, the projects go slow, but I think it makes these little victories all the more sweeter.”

Riza chuckled, earning an inquisitive look that was possibly bordering on being insulted.

“No, no, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just… at your core, you’re the same person after all. During the war, you often talked about how you were going to help people once it was over.”

“Huh.” (Y/n) acknowledged, because they really didn’t know what to say. It was kind of comforting, they supposed. At least they hadn’t been the complete monster they had feared they might have been. But still… why fight that war at all?

“Even your reasoning for joining the military was honorable. You always sent most of what you earned back home to your family.”

“…And what happened to them after everyone thought I was dead?” They asked softly, almost a whisper.

“They received compensation after it was determined you had been killed in action. I still check in on them every year, but they are doing well. They still feel your absence acutely, but they take it one day at a time.”

“I’m kind of awful, huh? I always wondered if I had a family, but I didn’t look very hard.”

“No, not at all. You went through a very traumatic event. You shouldn’t feel so bad. Besides… when you feel comfortable, if you’re up for it, I would be happy to take you to them. They would probably be better at helping you regain your memories than I would anyway.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t even know this much without you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Riza managed a small smile. (Y/n) had always shut down any negative words she might have said in the past.

“Come on, the city has a nice park not too far from here. I’m sure your puppy will enjoy it. I’ll get you lunch too.“

“That sounds really nice, but I’ll be the one getting you lunch today and that’s final.”

“Okay, jeez,” (Y/n) chuckled, putting their hands out defensively, “I won’t fight you on it, put out that fire in your eyes… why is it so important to you?”

Riza’s smile broadened just a bit more, remembering those small moments of peace with brown paper bags and cloudless blue skies. She hoped (Y/n) would remember those moments too one day. Somehow, someway, everything would work out in the end. It was a rare moment of optimism for Riza, a feeling without any hard evidence to back it up, but she embraced the feeling.

“I’m returning a favor long overdue.”

[darkeunology]

♡ Final Goodbyes ♡

Word Count: 1228

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury

Summary: When a building collapses on you during a mission with Sam, you feel like you have one chance left to tell him how you feel.

Not Requested

Rewritten from an old account

Fury had given you and Sam yet another job together, this becoming a regular occurrence as of late. The two of you were often given smaller jobs and undercover jobs together due to how well the two of you worked together. Ever since the fight in the airport - once the team had actually started working with each other again, you and Sam were paired up more often, Tony claiming that he’d passed on how well the two of you fought together, working like an actual team, both knowing exactly what the other was going to do in a fight. 

You were best friends, you had been almost from the moment Sam was introduced to you, both of you and Bucky becoming an almost inseparable unit together - never spending much time away from each other in the compound, all looking out for each other in missions. Fighting with both of them felt so natural to you, your movements flowing with each other, yours and Sam’s slightly more than Bucky’s.

There had been reports on an abandoned building about a drug gang Shield were trying to track down - Fury never telling you guys the exact details about why they were hunting down a simple drugs gang - but you and Sam were sent in as an indiscreet unit, hoping you’d be able to surprise whoever was in the building. The rest of the team weren’t far behind, hiding in a vehicle around the corner from the building, listening to your comms, ensuring the two of you were safe - ready to run in the second they needed to. 

After a small talk outside the building about your strategy, making sure you were both on the same page, you entered the building, guns drawn, staying side by side with each other as you eliminated most of the targets - under Fury’s orders; their boss was confirmed to not be in here, Fury didn’t need any of these guys alive anymore, so your orders were to kill anyone you saw you perceived as a ‘threat’.

Neither of you knew quite how it happened, but you’d managed to get split up from each other after some of the gang members had tried to fight you both. Both of you had a plan for if you’d gotten split up during this mission, both needing to meet on the bottom floor near the main entrance. Sam’s voice came over the comms, making you change your route to the nearest entrance to you, 

“The buildings about to go down, they set off bombs on the top floor. Y/N, get out of the building, do you copy?” Sam spoke, breathless slightly as he spoke, already out of the building, the team meeting him out on the street, all waiting for you to get out,

“Copy. Making my way out no-” You were so close to the exit, only a few feet away as the building shook around you, your comms cutting off as the building fell around you. 

“Y/N!” Sam shouted, watching the building fall, “Please tell me you got out…” he spoke into comms again, praying to whatever God was above that you were okay and were going to answer him. 

“Fury, the building fell on Y/N. We have no contact, starting search and rescue for them.” Tony spoke into his comms, all the team running towards the building to try and find you. 

–

Painfully you opened your eyes, your suit managing to protect you somewhat from the building collapse, making it so you didn’t die instantly from the impact. Panic ran through you as your lungs burned for a breath, a painful, broken groan spilling past your lips, being heard on the comms of the team outside. You heard your name being shouted, unable to tell if it was through your comms or not, you spoke, hoping your comms were still working, “I-I can’t breathe.” A whisper was all you could get out, a slab of concrete pushing down on your back. 

“Y/N!” Sam spoke through the mic, a minute sense of relief coursing through his veins as he heard your voice - you were alive… But for how long? “Where are you, sweetheart?” 

“I was near the West exit when the building came down.” you spoke, remembering how close you were to being out. Tears spilled from your eyes, another slab of concrete pining your leg to the floor, pain being all you could feel, sharp, stabbing pain throughout every single part of your body - you couldn’t hold on, you were going to die down here, you were going to die without ever telling Sam how you felt. “Sam. I need to tell you something.” you whispered. 

“Go ahead.” he spoke, still digging with the rest of the team, now all near where the West exit used to be, all of them determined to find you before you stopped being able to speak - whilst you were speaking, it meant you were still alive. 

“I love you.” 

Sam chuckled, “I love you too, sweetheart.” he replied, his heart aching slightly as he knew you didn’t mean it in quite the way he wanted you to mean it in. 

Another groan slipped past your lips as you chuckled, this one being more painful than the last, your life slowly trying to slip away from you, “No, Sam.” you stopped, a sharp pain stopping you, your leg felt like it was on fire, another groan of pain - every one being increasingly painful for Sam to hear. “I’m madly in love with you. I have been for years. It’s always been you Sam, ever since I met you, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t die here without telling you that.” 

Sam paused his digging, his heart beating out of his chest, he chuckled brokenly as he started to cry, “I love you too, sweetheart. In the exact same way. So you stay alive for me so I can finally take you on a date.” 

“I don’t think I can Sam… I’m sorry.” your voice got quieter, almost interceptable as your eyes closed, your body giving up just as the team pulled the last pieces of concrete off you. 

—----------

A weight in your hand was all you could focus on as your consciousness came back to you. Unbeknownst to you, it was Sam’s hand, he’d been sitting with you from the moment you’d come out of surgery.

He woke up from his very unpeaceful sleep by the feeling of you squeezing his hand, a groan spilling past your lips, a sound that Sam could from now on only associate with you dying, “Y/N?” he spoke, his voice breaking as you opened your eyes to him, “Hey, sweetheart.” he spoke, endearment in his voice, he leant forwards, placing a gentle kiss against your forehead, tears spilling onto your skin. 

“Hey” you croaked, your voice incredibly hoarse, 

“Don’t try to talk too much, okay? Your vocal cords and lungs were damaged in the accident.” Sam explained, watching as you nodded your head, 

Against his wishes, you spoke one last time, “So, about that date?” you asked, a small smile painted on your face, 

“I’ll take you out to dinner the minute you’re out of here.” Sam smiled widely, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against your lips, both of you savouring the kiss you’d both been desperate to share for years.

[wyn-n-tonic]

TAKE-O-VER — CHAPTER FIVE: CHANGE

Word Count: 2k+ Warnings (in general): Voyeurism. Stalking. Kidnap. Human rights violations out the ass, really. Author's Note: Um... hi and thank you for being so incredibly patient and kind for the almost two years that it has taken me between chapters of this. I really appreciate the nice words people have left me about this, the promise that they're not being pressure-y. I had a lot happen and this was one of the stories I set to the side because it felt like it took too much mental energy from me to continue it while I was not in a good place. I'm much better now (at least I think I am) and I don't know... I just started writing a scene out yesterday and I was like, 'Wait, this can't go in Frizzy or Flash.... oh shit, this is Gen's story." So... surprise! And thanks again for reading!

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Is this it?

She can’t help thinking that every time she looks at her phone, at the blank screen and the barely answered texts.

Is this why he didn’t want to come here? Why he insisted that he stay? Is he leaving her? Is it done?

All their years set aside so that he can… what? Go back to the FBI? Run off with a new lover? Give her everything of Gen’s? Touch some new girl with a perfectly waxed pussy the way he touched her at the beginning of it all? Even there near what she’s denying herself is the end, he never changed. He’s only changed now. He’s different now. 

She even had a friend drop by the gallery, put eyes on the man she hasn’t been able to pin down, only to find out that it was closed. Gen was asked if she wanted her to go further, go to the house, but the answer was a clear no. She’d give him this façade, this act. She’d take the small moments of attention, analyze them. She’d try to find him in the pieces and, then, when she goes home, she’ll confront him on all the parts that have been missing.

It’s been not even—or maybe just—two weeks now. Lonely in a big city. A big room, a big bed. A different kind of sadness than she ever thought she’d experience.

A dull ache in the pit of her stomach that could only be touched and soothed by a man so far away. 

On the morning she left, she thought it would just be distance.

Fifty-five hundred miles away likes her heart, in a place the art isn’t suffering but he certainly is. Lonely, cold and then hot with nothing but a lamp to cut through the dark and new knots in his back from the concrete he calls bed.

The other man, the mirror man—Dave—comes and goes. He brings food, asks questions—washes out the bucket Marcus calls a bathroom. Not that he has much going through his body right now, stress and lack of water drying him out. He did try to fight a few days in, got knocked back on his ass as quick as he could get up and stayed there as the other man broke a rib with a hard kick, told him he was lucky he didn’t do more.

Dave told Marcus that if he played nice, was a good boy, that this would all be over soon and he’d be back when Genevieve is. So long as he promises to never speak of this again.

He’s trying ways to get messages to her, wonders if she’s already figured it out. Dave won’t answer any question Marcus asks back so Marcus has taken to lying. If the other man has copped on, he hasn’t made a show of it. All he says is that she’s good.

She doesn’t suspect a thing.

But Marcus heard Dave address her as Genevieve on the phone and hoped she picked it up, too. Because Marcus hasn’t used her whole name since the day he said his vows.

Marcus also noticed that Dave calls her baby a lot and he does too but she’s not the biggest fan of it. She prefers honey or sweetheart or gorgeous. She prefers things that don’t make her feel small unless she wants to feel that. And she communicates what she wants but this man doesn’t know how to hear it.

The door slides open, footsteps fall, and he appears again with more food, some baby wipes and a change of clothes like that makes up for not having a shower in days.

“Are you any closer to the end of this so called plan?” Marcus asks. “Pretty sure I’m getting fucking bed sores down here.”

“I’ll be sure to bring you some ointment tomorrow,” the other man breathes out. “To answer your question, though, I don’t know. I can’t seem to pinpoint the motherfucker who’s supposed to be tracking me so, as long as that persists, so will you.”

“And this”—Marcus gestures vaguely to the air—“motherfucker who is tracking you… would he hurt my wife? To get to you, I mean.”

Dave shakes his head, his hair having grown out slightly, his beard cut in patches to do its best Marcus impression. “Robert wouldn’t hurt an innocent person, especially not somebody else’s wife. Especially not to get to me.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you on that?”

“You don’t really have any other choice,” Dave says, the words coming out low and dangerous. “Robert would never hurt her to get to me because I don’t care about anybody but myself in this, she would just be an innocent person caught in the crossfire.”

“Would you hurt her?” Marcus asks, trying to breathe through the nerves as he awaits the answer he doesn’t know if he really wants. 

Dave stares at him, blinks a few times and finally says, “no. I don’t want to hurt anymore innocent people either.” 

“And what am I?”

He purses his lips and shrugs. “A tool.” 

A tool with a broken rib and clothes hanging off of his body from the weight he’s let go of already. He wants to know more, about how she is. Dave wants to tell him but he knows that would just give him a purpose to actually try and fight next time he gets the chance.

As Dave leaves, Marcus asks how the cat is and Dave laughs.

“Little orange fucker hisses at me every time he sees me but, don’t worry, I won’t hurt him. I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit but I’d never do that.”

“So you’d kill a woman and not a cat? Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Marcus asks.

“I've already told you,” Dave says and it’s the most real he’s sounded this whole time. “I'm tired of hurting people, I never meant to hurt ones that didn’t deserve it in the first place. War criminals, crooked politicians… whoever I was sent after, there was a reason for it. I just need to figure out a plan.”

Two weeks in and still figuring it out.

Three if you count the week of surveillance done on the man and his still blushing bride. 

Dave hasn’t told him any of the contents of her messages, how she’s seeming more and more worried with every new text that comes through and he doesn’t know how to… placate her. So he says nothing. Tacks on that he’s busy but never elaborates. He’s right, she’s fucking smart. But she also thinks that she’s done something wrong and maybe it’s not fair but he lets her believe that. Lets her get drunk and ramble at him through unanswered text messages that he’ll only share when he’s no longer around to have to look the other man in the eye. 

He’s started developing a conscience over this girl and her desperation to speak to the person she left when she got on that plane. He wonders if his own wife ever gets like this or if she’s tired from raising the two kids he’s left her with time and time again.

The conscience isn’t strong enough to not palm himself when those pictures come through. Little teases to entice him into response—dirty pictures of her tits and ass and body, sometimes covered and sometimes not. There are videos of just her face where she’s clearly touching herself and then there is the pornographic soundbites she sends while saying his name like some desperate little prayer. 

He wants to leave. He wants to unlock the man and move forward. This was never supposed to be more than a two week job. He was supposed to find Robert, get to the next step and be on his way. But his contacts are blown, his connections are gone. Everybody he reaches out to doesn’t get back to him, like he’s contagious and they can’t risk the exposure. Nobody new is coming up from the woodwork either.

So he stays in this house, pacing the open spaces of the house and the gallery, thinking and thinking and trying desperately not to think about the woman in the phone or the man in the cage. 

Or the wife he left on the other side of the country with preparation on how to live in his death. Real or fake.

Hours pass by each day, food and wine and paint spilled on the drop cloth and her overalls. She’s messy, giggly—broken hearted and showing it even if she feels like she doesn’t have a right to either. Gen tries to logic it all away, tell herself it’s fine. But every day, every unanswered text message, has the anti anxiety medication she pops like candy fighting a losing fucking battle.

“You look like shit,” the buyer says. “Did you phone fuck that beautiful man or did you ignore my advice?”

“I bought a vibrator on your credit card,” Gen responds, the rim of her glass tipping back through her wine stained lips yet again, “check your statements.”

“What did he do?” She asks, arms crossed. “You came here loving him, on top of the world. Why do you make these faces now? I haven’t seen you like this since the football player from Prague.”

“It wasn’t the football player from Prague, it was the guitarist from Lisbon.”

“Musicians,” the older woman tsks, “so moody, so hurtful. I know sweet Marcus isn’t hurting you like that man did.”

It’s not Marcus. At least, it doesn’t feel like him. She says as much through another drink from the wine glass. “I think this is just the longest I’ve been away from him since I met him, it’s daunting. I have no doubts about who I am without him, I’d just rather not be without him. Does that make sense?”

“That was me and my poor Ruben. May his soul rest in peace. I’ve not been able to take another lover since his passing, I live vicariously through you now.”

“We've been trying for a family,” Gen says. “More bad news came through not long before I left and he was so…” She trails off, hands reaching out as if she can pluck the words from the air. “…tender with me and gentle in the weeks leading up to me leaving. I’m trying to tell myself that maybe he’s pulling away to deal with his own feelings about it and I don’t doubt that he’s busy. We’re not young anymore either, we’re not midnight lovers who stay up until the sun kisses us goodnight. We’re old now, he needs sleep. I understand, I just…”

“Wish that you didn’t have to?” The buyer asks. “Understanding is not the same thing as acceptance, whatever feelings that is bringing up are what matters. You’re channeling it in a healthy way,” she says, laughing as Gen holds up the wine glass and gestures to two empty bottles. “This is France, two bottles for lunch is child’s play—amateur hour. Besides, I gave you the weak shit today—“

“I asked for it.”

“Let me act as though I’m helping, darling, please,” she insists. “Feel what you feel, act on it and speak on it. You can say you understand but that’s not the same thing as being okay with it. It can make sense and still fucking hurt,” she says, hands balled into fists and pressed into the middle of her chest. “I have never seen a man love anybody the way he loves you, a family or lack thereof, isn’t going to change that. He’s probably gone without a shower and eating the same thing every day.” 

But that’s what she’s afraid of. The withdrawal from her, the impulsive haircut, the not wanting to video chat. No response to the sexual messages at all. It’s like she got on a plane and the worst of his depression decided to rear its ugly head when she wasn’t there to help him fight it. It’s hard to pull him out of those episodes but it’s easier when she’s there and she can catch it. 

[arielhopepeace]

Part Three

18+ only

Tw: mention of cancer, death, cheating, slight smut, masturbation, age gap

5,500 words

Joel POV

The sun bears down onto my skin, darkening it with its harsh rays as sweat drips from beneath my hard hat. Today is ridiculously sweltering, and honestly making me feel like it should be outlawed to have to work in this type of heat.

My thoughts are enough of a distraction from the fact that I’m cooking out here, though. Ever since I left y/n’s house last night, I haven’t gotten the feel of her body against mine out of my mind. She was so soft, like a cloud that I reached up into the sky and grazed, letting the fog run between my fingertips.

I know that me going out of my way to help her change her locks is just furthering me into the friend-zone with her. It dawned on me that I needed to leave her house once the feeling of needing to kiss her began to build within my stomach, giving me that light tingly feeling of butterflies that I haven’t felt in eons.

Y/n is so effortlessly beautiful, that it makes me feel winded any time I’m around her. I hoped she hadn’t felt my racing heart and trembling hands as we embraced, the close proximity only adding to the apprehension I already had just from being at her house.

My mind was so dead-set on getting to know her, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it would be inappropriate. Isn’t there some sort of rule against dating a student’s parent? Even if I hadn’t already friend-zoned myself, I wouldn’t want Sarah to get involved and either hate her teacher, or have to suffer with losing her if it didn’t work out.

I’ve never thought this far ahead about a woman since my wife, and I know that it’s because y/n is different. Nobody understands the pain I feel, but she does; and she doesn’t give me the pitiful apologies that are only from the surface, they’re from that deep chasm within, as if she’s sympathizing with her younger self as well.

It’s tiring spending all my time thinking about these fabricated ideas of a woman who considers me as nothing more than a student’s father. I’m honestly incredibly nervous to see her again today, even though every part of me can’t wait to gaze upon her perfectly symmetrical face.

After work, I head to the hardware store, buying everything I need in order to change her two locks. I look ridiculously dirty, and I feel grimy from all the dirt and concrete that has gotten kicked up by my boots. There’s wood shavings in my hair as I check myself in my rear view mirror, doing my best to ruffle anything that doesn’t belong out.

“God,” I groan as I shake my head, knowing that she’s going to look perfectly stunning, and I’m going to show up looking like I rolled in the mud.

I send her a text to let her know that I’m here, noticing that all of her windows, and even her front door is wide open. What the hell is she doing that for in this heat?

As I grab my things out of the truck cab, I jump slightly at the sound of y/n greeting me from beside the open door.

“Shit,” I curse lightly, still stretched into the cab, “you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she laughs sheepishly. “I’m just letting you know that it’s really hot in my house. For some reason, my A/C went out some time last night, and I can’t get a guy out here until tomorrow.”

Closing the door, I lean back, finally meeting y/n’s gaze as my mouth instantly dries at the sight of her. Her hair has been pulled up into a loose bun, and she’s wearing nothing but a black bikini. My cock is immediately awake, poking against the prison of my jeans and begging to be let out.

I quickly move the supply bags to in front of me, hoping to shield the ridiculous, embarrassing erection that has popped up.

“Oh, uh, I could take a look at that, too,” I finally answer.

My god, what am I, fucking fifteen?

Y/n cocks her head slightly, “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me on top of the locks.”

“Actually,” I begin as we walk toward the house, “you didn’t ask me to do either. I offered both.”

She giggles from behind me, prompting a smirk to spread onto my face. “Please, let me get you a beer or something.”

I set my things down by the front door, watching as she walks away into the stifling house. My eyes are on her hips, watching them swing side to side, her ass having the perfect bounce to it. Gazing at her doesn’t alleviate the uncomfortable situation in my jeans, forcing me to reluctantly turn my eyes away to focus on the task at hand.

As I begin to unscrew the current doorknob, y/n twists open the beer, sitting across from me in the house as I rest on the doorstep. She places the bottle next to me on the living room floor, my eyes desperately trying to not stare at her chest. I don’t think she realizes how attractive she is, and how attracted I am to her. I’ve never been the type of guy to objectify a woman by any means, I just am dumbfounded by her looks.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks sweetly, her voice so charming and gentle.

“It was so hot today,” I wipe my sweaty forehead on my dirtied shirt. “But yeah, it was okay. How about you? How was school?”

“It was good,” she nods with a small smile. “I’m having the kids write a non-fiction essay for English. Nothing super long, but I just want to know where their writing is at.”

“An essay?” I chuckle. “Sarah will be thrilled,” I tell her sarcastically.

“Actually,” y/n laughs, “she said she was excited. I asked her what she wanted to write about, and she picked you.”

My hands stop their work, pinning my gaze to hers as a smile forces my lips apart. “I’ll never understand why that girl loves me so much, but she makes me feel like the luckiest dad in the world.”

Her face goes soft with admiration, her brows fitted together with a smile on her supple lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever known a kid to love their parent so much. Well, maybe except for me,” she teases. “Some kids in my class don’t even have parents for various reasons. I’ve looked into all of my students, just to make sure I don’t bring up any rough subjects on accident, or maybe in a story.”

I continue unscrewing the knob, beaming wide. “That’s so nice of you, and incredibly smart.”

“Well, you kind of have to be smart to be a teacher, don’t you?” she laughs lightly.

“Oh, for sure. I think you’re the perfect person for that job.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” I chuckle. “You’re overly nice, compassionate, considerate, eager to understand. All the kids love you for a reason, y/n.”

Her hand brushes against my leg, patting it gently just above my knee. “You’re sweet, Joel. What would I do without you filling my head with all of these compliments?”

A sharp, unexpected laugh leaves me. “Maybe you’d have a smaller head.”

She gapes at me as she giggles, smacking my arm playfully. “Oh, shut up. I don’t seem conceited, do I?”

“God, no,” I laugh. “I’m only teasing. You have a perfectly normal shaped head; physically and metaphorically.”

Finally, I’m able to pop in the new doorknob, taking a few sips of beer before resuming my task.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” she asks from beside me.

“Well, working in construction helps, but I also just like to be handy. I’ve done a lot of extensive research on repairs and mechanical things, even cars. I probably could tell you what was wrong with your A/C too since you want to work me to death out here.”

Y/n laughs with her head tilted back. “You’re more than welcome to use my pool once you’re done, it’s where I’m headed to soon.”

“Ah, no. I’m so dirty from work, I’d rather take a shower.”

“You can use my shower, too. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

If only she were an option. I can’t stop imagining kissing her as I run my fingers across her smooth skin, savoring every push of her lips. Jesus christ, what’s wrong with me? That uncomfortable situation has returned, making me shift in order to shield my tented jeans.

“Has Sam been back?” I ask, deciding to change the subject away from whatever led me to my dirty thoughts.

“No,” she shakes her head. “And I’m glad he hasn’t. I have an appointment tomorrow to get looked at. Hopefully they can tell me that nothing’s wrong with me, because I was up late last night freaking out about it.”

“I’m sorry that you have to worry about that. He’s—” my voice trails off, deciding not to let my personal opinions of him be said. “You just deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, well,” she sighs, “I’ll find it one day, won’t I?”

I nod. “Of course you will.”

After finishing both of the knobs, the sun still has yet to set, allowing me enough light to check out her A/C unit. Y/n follows me, my eyes immediately locking onto the problem before me.

“My god,” I mutter as I crouch down, placing my finger beneath a cut wire. “Somebody cut it.”

Y/n places her hands on her hips. “Cut it?!” she shouts. “Gee, I wonder who would’ve manipulated my house that I have to pay rent for alone,” her voice drips with sarcasm.

“You really think Sam did this?” I ask as I gaze up at her.

“Of course he did,” she shakes her head. “He knows I’d have to pay a ton of money to get it fixed. He’s being spiteful because I kicked him out. I honestly wish I knew where he was staying so I could slash his fucking tires.”

I can’t help but laugh at her foul language, her sudden spark of anger only making me adore her more. “Nah, don’t stoop to his level. I can fix this for you right now for no charge.”

“Joel, please let me repay you somehow. Can you at least let me make you dinner tonight?”

“It’s already almost seven-thirty. Are you sure?”

Y/n nods vehemently. “I’m positive. I haven’t eaten yet, anyway.”

“How about I get this fixed up, go home, take a shower and change, then I’ll come back.”

“Will you bring a swimsuit? I’ll make you steak,” she says in a sing-songy voice.

A small chuckle pushes past my lips. “Sure, fine.”

Y/n does a giddy clap and bounce, her breasts moving in her top and I immediately advert my eyes, standing as I go to grab different tools out of my truck.

“Are you a good ol’ steak and potato kind of guy?” y/n giggles.

I close my truck door, walking back to the A/C unit as I laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so steak, potato, beer, and football?”

“Any sport is fine with me, actually,” I laugh. “You make me sound so ‘suburban dad’.”

She crosses her arms. “You are a suburban dad, Joel.”

“Okay, touché,” I chuckle. “Do you think I’m mundane?”

“No!” she responds quickly and with immediate passion. “Why would I want to invite you over for dinner if I thought you were dull?”

“To be polite,” my face splits with a grin.

“You are the furthest from mundane, Joel. I promise you.” She rests her hand on my shoulder, electrifying me. “And how do you like your steak cooked?”

“Medium rare, but really I’m good with anything.”

Y/n tsks at me. “If the hard working man wants medium rare, then he’ll get medium rare,” she giggles. I’ll see you later, okay? I’m gonna start on dinner.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Really.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do.”

My eyes follow her, admiring the dip in her back and the way her thighs rub together as she walks away, shaking my head in disbelief at her beauty once again, forcing myself to concentrate.

In the shower at home, my right hand grips my hard cock as the other rests against the wall, my wet fingertips digging into the slippery tile. My chest heaves as I pant, feeling so close already just from the memory of y/n in that goddamn bathing suit.

The swell of her ass, the curve of her waist, and the fullness of her breasts all haunt me in the best way. My eyes clamp tightly shut as I groan, wishing it was y/n’s cunt squeezing me instead of my own palm.

“Fuck,” I moan, my balls tightening as my orgasm reaches its pinnacle.

A choked groan catches in my throat, my head thrown back as I cry out into the shower ceiling above, shooting my release down towards the drain. I keep my hand wrapped around myself as I slump forward, feeling winded from the intense rush of euphoria.

I haven’t been affected by a woman this way since high school. Never in my adult life have I been so attracted to someone, that I needed to cum in the shower just to alleviate my pent up sexual frustration. I feel like y/n has put some witchy spell on me that has turned me into this unrecognizable, ravenous, depraved man.

When I’m back in my bedroom, I decide to dress casually, but still attempting to look decently nice. I toss on a gray t-shirt and dark blue jeans, doing my best to tame my hair just a bit. Grabbing my cologne, I spray a little bit onto my neck and chest, rubbing my hands along the fabric to press the mist into it.

Before I leave, I grab my swim trunks, hesitating on bringing a shirt. Will y/n think I’m weird if I wear one? I’m just hyper-aware of my body now that I know what her very recent ex looks like. He’s the type of guy who’s a personal trainer, and I’m the one who guys urge to go to the gym.

Deciding to not bring an extra shirt, I head out the door, knowing that Sarah is probably watching a movie at Mrs. Fredrick’s house next door. I feel a little guilty for dumping her there to be with y/n, but I know neither of them mind. It just makes me feel like a bad father.

As I park in the driveway at y/n’s house, I’m relieved to see that her front door and all the windows are closed. Hopefully that means the air stayed working after I left. I’m not sure why I feel nervous as I walk up to her house with my swim trunks gripped into my palm, but I can’t shake the feeling.

My knuckles gently rap against the metal door, y/n’s voice shouting out for me to come in. I push it open, instantly being greeted by the smell of food that makes my stomach roll over with agonizing hunger.

“It smells amazing,” I say as I approach the kitchen, seeing that she’s still in her two piece, making my neck tense.

“Oh, thank you,” she answers happily as she pulls something out of the oven. “You can have a seat, I’m just finishing up.”

Y/n wobbles a bit, my brows furrowing together. “Are you okay?”

“I may have had three glasses of wine while I cooked, but I promise I’m fine,” she giggles. “Let me get you a beer.”

She glides over to the table, setting a bottle down in front of me before she twists the top off, taking the cap with her. I gulp down over half of the bottle, hoping it’ll settle the nervousness that has made its way into my sternum.

Y/n easily makes her way beside me holding two plates, setting the one with a bigger steak in front of me. “Hope you’re hungry,” she says as she gazes down at me.

My eyes briefly flick down her body, then back down to my plate. “Starving.”

She perches on the chair next to me, smiling brightly before she begins to cut into her meat. “Did you bring your bathing suit?”

I nod, cutting into my ribeye to see a perfectly pink center. “I did,” I chuckle. “The steak looks perfect, by the way.”

Y/n sips at some water from a wine glass, bobbing her head as she swallows. “I told you that you’ll get what you asked for.”

“You followed through.”

Her arms gesture around. “And so did you. My house feels amazing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I smile at her. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you going to be okay here? Like, will you genuinely be able to pay your rent?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nods. “Sam was just being a dick and saying I wouldn’t be able to, but I think I can. I might have to budget a little and stop drinking wine,” y/n laughs, “but I’ll be fine. Thank you, Joel.”

“Well, of course. I wouldn’t want you to be out of a place to live.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow playfully. “Would you have a way to fix that, too?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “I’d find a way.”

“Because you are Mr. Solution To Everything,” she laughs, flashing that impeccable smile. “Forgive me for being a bit tipsy, I got a call from my ex mother-in-law while you were gone.”

“Oh,” I shift, “what did she say?”

“Just that she’s glad we’re not together anymore, and that her Sammy deserved better than me from the start. She said I’m too young and immature for him. The worst part is, she wouldn’t even let me get a word in, so I couldn’t tell her what a fucking cunt she is.”

A shocked guffaw flies from my throat, my eyes widening. “You’re bold when you’ve been drinking.”

Y/n’s palm slaps against her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting that I’m your daughter’s teacher and I can’t just talk to you any way I want.” She places her hand on my arm. “Forgive me.”

“Please,” I scoff, “I don’t care how you talk to me, y/n. You could say anything and it wouldn’t make me think of you any differently.”

Her eyes are on mine, a smirk playing at her lips. “And how do you think of me?”

Is she flirting with me?

Doing my best to remain collected, I smile back at her, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “Fondly.”

“Hm,” she giggles carelessly, drinking more of her water. “I’m glad my messy life hasn’t made you think that I’m also a mess.”

“No, not at all. I’m just happy I was able to comfort you when you needed it.”

Y/n wiggles in her chair, finishing up her steak before she pushes her plate away. “I have a surprise. It’s not a big deal, and I’m not even sure you’ll like it.”

My brows scoop up with interest. “Okay,” I smile, “show me.”

She leaves the table, walking to the fridge to retrieve a small tray, presenting it in front of me as she returns. In y/n’s hands on a plastic platter are a dozen vanilla cupcakes topped with strawberry icing, as well as a small berry placed in the center of each. They’re so ornate yet delicate and charming.

“My god, those are adorable,” my eyes meet hers. “And they look amazing. You really did too much for me, y/n. I mean it.”

She sets the dessert down on the table, taking her seat again. “I still feel like it isn’t enough. You saved me hundreds of dollars today just out of the kindness of your heart, and I’ve made you dinner and cupcakes.”

I laugh, reaching out my hand to rest it gently over hers. “And it’s all perfect and delicious. You don’t have to do anything else for me, I promise you. You didn’t even have to do anything, anyway. I wanted to help you.”

“Why are you so kind?”

My posture straightens as I blink at her, unsure of how to answer that question. How do I explain that I’d do anything for her because I find her so fucking perfect, without sounding like a lunatic? I’ve known her for three days, and I’d be more than willing to build her a brand new house with my own two hands. What in god’s name has this woman done to me? How has she made me feel such a vast array of emotions in only a few days?

“You’re easy to be kind to,” I finally respond, giving her a soft smile before I continue eating my delicious meal.

After dinner, I’m standing in the bathroom, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. My body isn’t at all where I’d like it to be physically, and I now feel suddenly incredibly panicked about going swimming with my shirt off. The muscle definition I used to have in my stomach is gone, and the lean physique I used to sport is starting to wane, as well. I wouldn’t classify myself as overweight, but definitely out of shape.

Sliding my shirt back on as I let out an uneasy sigh, I leave the bathroom, walking out the sliding glass door to see y/n with her feet in the pool and the tray of cupcakes beside her.

I chuckle as I sit onto the rough lip of the pool, plunging my feet into the warm water. “Cupcakes and swimming?”

She turns to me as she nods. “That whole thing about getting a stomach ache if you swim after eating is a myth, you know.”

“I’m a dad, of course I know,” I laugh, picking up one of the desserts.

My fingers carefully peel the paper back, opening it just enough for my mouth to sink into the soft treat. The strawberry icing bursts in my mouth, being offset by the delectable, mellow, vanilla cake beneath it.

“God,” I groan, “you’re so good at baking, y/n. These are amazing.”

Her eyes are on me as she gives me a small smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what kind you’d like. You seem like more of a chocolate kind of guy,” she giggles.

“When it comes to desserts, I’m not picky.”

She nods, still gazing at me. “That’s good to know.”

I bite into the fresh strawberry at the top, discarding the leafy bits onto the tray along with my empty cupcake wrapper. “Thank you,” I say as I swallow.

Y/n laughs as she looks at me, leaning forward to wipe the tip of my nose with her thumb. “You have frosting on your nose,” she giggles.

She places the pad of her thumb into her mouth, sucking the freshly removed frosting off as she keeps her eyes on me. That arousal she gives me returns, making me shift where I sit, and this time, I don’t have something as restricting as jeans and briefs, only swim trunks.

“I’m gonna get in,” I say quickly, standing to walk to the stairs in the shallow end.

“Are you going to wear your shirt?” she asks with her head cocked.

“Oh, um—” my voice trails off, my eyes adverted away from her gaze, “I’m just more comfortable with it on, I think.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

“No,” I laugh, standing near the stairs still, “I guess I’ve just grown to not really enjoy my dad bod.”

Why am I always so painfully vulnerable with her?

Y/n is standing up, the water splashing slightly as she removes her feet from the pool. She walks towards me, giving me a small smile before getting into the water in front of me.

“I wouldn’t judge you, Joel, but please do what makes you the most comfortable.”

Letting out a determined sigh, I slide off my shirt, tossing it aside as I step into the ridiculously warm and inviting water. Y/n walks over to the cupcakes that sit at the edge, gesturing for me to join her and grab another one.

Once I’m beside her, we stay quiet as our eyes are locked, each of us taking a bite of our cupcakes. With a small laugh, I wipe the frosting that has now gotten onto her nose. Setting my dessert to the side, I suck the frosting off my thumb just as she did, seeing if she really has been flirting with me this whole time.

Y/n smirks, taking another bite of her treat as she leaves a bit of the icing at the corner of her mouth. I go to remove it with my finger, but she moves her head away, shaking it.

With just the darkened look in her eyes alone, I know exactly the game she’s playing at. I lean in to her, keeping my breathing even as I swipe my tongue slowly up the corner of her lips. My body feels ignited from my bold move, and her devilish chuckle assures me that that was precisely what she wanted me to do.

I’m suddenly tossing every worry, moral, and negative thought out the window as I eagerly take her lips against mine. Her wet, bikini covered breasts press against my bare chest, her fingers dancing into my hair as I slide my tongue along hers.

I could easily be dreaming right now, and just have a painfully hard dick when I wake up. But I’m not. This is fucking real.

Y/n wraps her legs around my waist, allowing me to hold her beneath the water as my hands drift down to the perfect ass I haven’t been able to get my eyes off of.

“Joel,” she breathes as she pulls away, my lips trailing down her soft, spacious throat. “You’re so hot. I want you so bad.”

“Shh,” I coo, nipping at her flesh, “just enjoy this.”

My mouth finds hers once again, her hands running down my torso to where I’m fully hard for her. I can’t help but let out a small groan at the feeling of her palm against me, my hips involuntarily thrusting up into it.

“I need you,” y/n whines softly. “Please.”

I chuckle, swiping my tongue up her ear before taking the lobe between my teeth. “What do you need me for, hm? Tell me, angel, what is it?”

Her chest heaves against mine, her hand still rubbing against me through my swim trucks. “Everything. I need you for everything.”

My hands move around to the front of her swim suit, lifting the top off to reveal the breasts that I’ve been so desperate to see; to have my mouth on. I carry her over to the steps, setting her down on a higher one as I close my lips around one of her nipples.

She yelps, fisting at the hair on the back of my head. I pull the pearled center between my teeth, gazing up at her to see her hazy eyes meeting mine. I do the same to the other one, my fingers keeping the nipple I just left company by pinching it gently.

“This fucking bathing suit has been driving me crazy all goddamn day,” I rasp, dragging my tongue up her chest to her neck. “You’ve been just begging me to fuck you, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she answers quietly. “Yes, please. It’s all I want.”

“My god, me too. Thought about that pretty little cunt in the shower before I got here,” I admit, dropping my hand down below the water line to rub her through her bottoms.

Y/n’s head falls back, her body a writhing, panting, half-naked, fucked out mess and I haven’t even been inside of her.

“Did you want me when you first saw me?” I ask as I continue to circle her clit through the fabric.

“Yes!” she cries. “You’re so fucking hot, Joel. I’ve wanted you since I met you at the park.”

Her words fuel the already raging fire within my stomach, wanting desperately to be buried inside of her right now. “Good. I want to keep you this desperate for me.” My fingers stop, bringing them up to adjust her bikini top back onto her reddened breasts.

“What? No, no, no. Please!” y/n begs, gripping at my wrists. “Why are you stopping? Please don’t stop.”

I chuckle, leaning in to kiss her firmly with a quick swipe of my tongue. “A few reasons,” I say between kisses. “One, you’re a bit tipsy and two, don’t you have that appointment to get checked out tomorrow? I don’t think you have anything, but it would be nice to know, wouldn’t it?”

Her brows are furrowed with desperation as she hangs her head. “Oh, my god, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Hey,” I say gently as I pick her chin up to meet my gaze, “don’t apologize, sweet girl. It’s easy to get caught up in the moment.”

“And I’m not too tipsy. The alcohol just helped me make that little jump towards you,” she says with reddened lips and cheeks.

My mouth presses against hers again, savoring the cupcake flavor on her sweet tongue. “I’m glad you did. I just would rather go further when we’re both completely ourselves.” I inwardly kick myself. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” she beams as she cups my face in her hands, “not at all. You’re an amazing, sweet man, Joel. And oh my god, you’re hot as fuck.”

I laugh loudly, gently running my nose along hers. “Yeah? I’ve thought that exact same thing about you since I met you.”

Her eyes run down my body. “And you have such a great body. I really don’t see what you do, but I understand the way you feel.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” I chuckle. “I guess I was just comparing myself to Sam and felt—inadequate.”

Y/n rolls her eyes as she scoffs. “Oh, fuck Sam. He was the first guy I was ever with that looked like that, and I promise you that isn’t what first attracted me to him.”

“Really? What was?”

“He was kind and he made me laugh, the looks were just a bonus.”

I chuckle. “And what attracted you to me?”

Y/n hums with a warm grin, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Everything.”

On the short drive home, I have a ridiculous smile that hasn’t removed itself from my face since I left y/n’s. Every single moment about tonight was perfect; from the food, the dessert, the pool, her lips, her body, the way she whined for me, and the compliments she gave me. I couldn’t have made a better night up in my head.

After getting an exhausted Sarah from the neighbor’s house, I tuck her in to bed, planting a kiss onto her forehead before leaving and returning to my bedroom. There’s a text on my phone from y/n, and I open it immediately.

Y/n

10:00pm

Thank you for coming over for dinner, and for stopping what I never could’ve. I’d feel horrible if I gave you something just because Sam is a piece of shit and I can’t control my body around you.

10:10pm

I’m glad you can’t control it around me. Let me control it for you. You’ll find out tomorrow whether or not you have something, so try not to worry. I really think you’ll be fine, but it would just be safer this way. Thanks to you, I have to go stock up on condoms for the first time since college.

Y/n

10:12pm

Joel, are you telling me that you haven’t had sex since your wife passed away?

10:13pm

Is that a turn off for you?

Y/n

10:15pm

Oh, my god, no! I just hope I fulfill your nine year dry spell, is all. That’s a lot of pressure lol. Also, maybe if I don’t have anything, we could go without the condoms? I’m on birth control.

My neck tenses as I imagine feeling y/n in all of her natural glory. A twitch runs to my cock, making my stomach twist with arousal.

10:16pm

Absolutely no pressure. I can already tell that you’re gonna be a lot of fun. And yeah, that’s more than fine with me. Guess the condoms will live to see another day lol.

Y/n

10:20pm

Lol, goofball. Good night, Joel.

10:21pm

Good night, y/n.

****

[light-imperfected]

Nothing has changed.

One breath in the City of Spirale and the next he's in Hell. Back here. The weight of his sins swell back on his shoulders like they had never left. And that familiar feeling of the Father's Light—kept in stasis, somehow, by the city—burning out of his body—leaving him hollow. He has hours left.

Well.

He always knew this would end. He has always been walking on borrowed time, this whole stolen year. He wishes, maybe, that he had held Sun Wukong closer, carried his warmth for longer, been braver, kissed him sooner, seen one more time the way a genuine smile graces his face, memorized the way their bodies fit together. For all the shame he carries, he still misses his presence so badly it hurts. There is a kind of unspeakable grief in that glimpse of what might have happened, in some other lifetime. Gabriel had accepted his death long ago—but it stings, knowing that perhaps he could have lived.

But there's no time left to mourn, or to regret, anymore. He looks up. Stands up from where he's been kneeling. What was it that he wanted to do, all that time ago?

---

When he dies for the last time (arm ripped away, blood in his throat, strange satisfaction and no shortage of nails in his gut), he's ready for it. When he dies for the last time he opens his eyes and he's in Spirale again and he could scream in frustration. Plants he doesn't recognize sprawl across the streets, roots cracking concrete, glitched visions of worlds he'll never know stitching together and coming apart in bursts of static. His hands clench, the one he lost returned and shaking. The Light he had just felt dwindle away, back at the low steady pulse it's been at all year. And he is so, so sick of the Stars fucking with him.

It's a pretty speech they give, but—he doesn't listen. He's spent far too much of his life working for a God that never truly cared. Gabriel sorts through the noise and searches for any fragment of the man he loves. And so he slips away from this city into another, one that's survived a few recent apocalypses of its own, but is very much still kicking.

---

He does not find Sun Wukong. He does find some paper cutout of Monkey King with prerecorded voicelines selling a line of his own plushies, which is when he finds out his boyfriend is famous. Gabriel doesn't honestly know much about Wukong's past, which he doesn't mind; he's equally cagey about his own.

A bit dazed, he asks someone where he could find Monkey King? The kid in the banged up delivery vehicle lights up at the question and rattles off an answer before pointing into the fucking sea, which Gabriel can't do anything with. "Flower Fruit Mountain's that way," he says, "or you can check the Shame Temple, in the mountains."

Gabriel snorts at the name. Squinting at the cart's logo, he realizes with a start that this must be someone who worked the infamous noodle shop where he and Monkey King met, all that time ago, deep in the Mists.

He asks for directions and within the hour he's sat at the counter listening to a pig grumble about the fact that he can't eat and a guy with glasses trying to get the pig to give him free noodles. A girl with green in her pigtails snickers and tells him, "Don't worry, this happens every day with these two." (Pigsy: Don't you excuse this behavior! Tang laughs: You know you love meeee.)

It's nice, to watch the daily rhythms of people who care for each other dearly. But Gabriel doesn't know them. The person he's looking for isn't here.

"Classic Monkey King," Pigsy grumbles, sliding Tang a bowl of noodles, "always running off to who knows where without any sort of warning." Gabriel has to swallow the sudden defensiveness swelling in his chest, surprised by its intensity.

"Don't worry," says Mei, a bit over-brightly, "he'll come back. That's the ol' immortality for ya."

MK swings through the door (Mei: 小天！), deliveries taken care of, and waves at Gabriel. "Oh, hey, you're still here. I can take you to Flower Fruit Mountain if you're still looking," he offers (Pigsy: Oh, boy. You better not be late tomorrow, MK. The boy laughs sheepishly. Pigsy sighs, good-natured). "I could get some training in, anyway."

---

The ride is uneventful, MK nervously chattering questions at Gabriel (so how did you meet? are you like, a celestial? i haven't seen you around before, do you wear armor all the time? is that helmet your head?). The angel's terse, doesn't want to explain the whole multiple-universes thing. For all the practice he's had in Spirale, he hasn't shaken off his own fucking death yet.

MK shows Gabriel through the waterfall; Monkey King looks up and opens his mouth when he hears them. But Gabriel's already flashed across the room. The trail of blue he leaves in his wake fades, slowly, as he pulls a familiar furry body into a tight hug, heavy and solid in his arms like he'd never left. To his credit, Wukong doesn't say a thing, just returns the gesture, though not without a grumble of annoyance that he gets mostly a faceful of armor for his trouble.

Something soft spills over in him and he thinks it's relief. He knows he would be crying if he could, every feeling too sharp and overwhelming. Wukong is squeezed closer. His mouth can't make the words he wants desperately to say: i love you. i thought i'd never see you again. i'm already dead so many times over but i still want to hold onto you. i hope i love you for as long as spirale lets me do it. i love you.

"Um, Monkey King?" MK says, watching from the entrance after a full five minutes of silence, "What's, happening?"

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

I was wondering about how can I have primitive (like stone age? or maybe further a long if required) cultures in my story build large or tall structures. My idea is that a structure like what you see of Stonehenge would actually be remnants of 200m tall towers or something. Would love to go as high as possible, so any ideas on that? Also I suppose what sort of rock type would be needed? It's an entirely fictional place so earth stuff can be changed, but perhaps not drastically - I mean it's still an earth like planet.

Addy: The first question I have is the societal pressure that is pushing them to build up instead of out. Generally speaking, walkable cities without elevators top out at around 5 stories, since going up a lot of stairs takes time and is pretty annoying, especially if you're having to do so consistently throughout the day. Let's call it 15 meters, or around 50 ft. If that's carved into rock (ala Mesa Verde or Derinkuyu), you can get that kind of height out of stone, but anything with multiple stories is generally going to require either A) some kind of woodworking capability or B) pyramid structures. Put simply, rock is heavy, and it does not do well in long, flat sections like floors. That's why we put rebar in concrete, and why we have supporting beams underneath concrete floor systems. Woodworking lets you build a more sophisticated structure (more interior space), while a pyramid structure gets taller.

One thing that building up does is it allows for a higher population density, which is excellent for cities. Cities (and permanent buildings in general) mean agriculture, which means that we're looking at the Neolithic period (or later). That's also going to give you organized labor to pull from, as well as possible written records (not always, but usually).

We see plenty of two-story buildings in the Neolithic and Bronze Age periods, such as the Palace of Nestor (Bronze Age) and Çatalhöyük (Neolithic). Looking beyond that, ziggurats get us even taller. Chogha Zanbil is a wonderful example of a large ziggurat. It had five levels and was ~53m tall by ~105m wide. A ziggurat is made by creating an artificial platform of mud brick, and then building successively smaller platforms on top of that. They're a form of step pyramid, and got to be quite tall.

The largest (and tallest) buildings are, by far, the pyramids of Egypt. The Great Pyramid of Giza (aka Pyramid of Khufu) was originally ~146m tall and ~230m on a side.

Often, when looking up settlements, we see mentions of settlement layers or levels. Çatalhöyük has 18, I believe. These aren't multiple stories of buildings, but are instead closer to bulldozing a site and just building right on top of the old stuff. That's how you end up with, say, Roman ruins under various European cities. They just got built over. Since you're looking at height, I wanted to go ahead and clarify that for you.

Overall, 200 meters is a lot. The Burj Khalifa is five times the height of the Pyramid of Khufu, and weighs about ⅙th of it. Stone is heavy, and building with it is, frankly, a lot of work. They had the advantage of canals and boats to bring up all the stone to the site, and it still took them 20 years. Now, mind you, many ancient structures were built over the course of generations. Ziggurats, temples, offices of administration… things are and were built over a long period of time (la Sagrada Familia is a good modern example).

If you want there to be minimal remains, well, free stone is free stone! Many ancient structures have been taken down that way.

I don't have a solid answer for you, but I hope this gives you a few ideas to think about.

Feral: If you want tall and ancient, look to the mountains. Literally. Raqmu, now known as Petra, in Jordan, is partially carved into a canyon. Probably not in its known form until the 3rd century BCE, it could still serve as inspiration for your worldbuilding. The cliff-dwellings of the Pueblo peoples in North and Central America could also act as inspiration for you. Although probably not built until the 12th century CE, caves are probably some of the first humans ever inhabited given the natural shelter they provide.

[akitamafumis]

trying to go through life thoughts

I wrote some thoughts on the l/n starira AU that i am putting here for posterity . mainly .

I don’t really know where to start or how to go into this. I made a comment to frog about how i thought that thematically l/n weren’t too far off, at least with some things. There’s the difference between revue’s focus on selfishness, but i think in a way you can see those as the difference between theatre and music (non-theatre) as art forms. Does that make sense? It’s an interesting part of a band, that the thematic idea of selfishness literally can only go so far—anyone can hope to be the lead in theatre, but a drumset player can’t hope to play the melody (you’re about to pitch your idea for a set of chromatically tuned toms. There’s nothing i can say to you that would stick in your brain).

So that was kind of my general vibe. I felt like there were enough similarities to justify the differences to make it make sense. I was only doing it as a writing exercise and it kind of spiraled. Ppl have talked about how it’s rly hard to revue something else because besides just fun aesthetics for art, it requires upward work to try and justify the occurrences in the AU to make it actually work. So i thought, maybe, it’d be fun to try and work through those thoughts a bit and see what I could come up with.

The most major change of note is that Shiho’s parents work in theatre in some way—it’s super vague and I didn’t want to come up with any concrete answers just because it felt pointless to. One of her parents might be a rinmeikan graduate or a family member was a teacher there or something, hence how they ended up with an old Rinmeiki vhs, and a result of her parents being in theatre means her desire to be a professional musician is switched to a desire to be a professional actor. A lot of what ripples out from there in terms of their childhood is pretty self explanatory: they watch Rinmeiki, put on little plays together just the four of them, and then things fall apart as they grow older.

I wanted to get them relatively close to pjsk canon at the start moreso than starira’s, so the perf department is already closed while they’re in their first year. I think in the context of this story they had more members at the start of the year, but people (upperclassmen) dropped into general education just because they knew the department was going to close down, until it was just Shiho and Ichika. Upperclassmen are only 2nd years, bc the part of my brain that cares too much ab logistics thinks the school would let any third years graduate in their department before shutting it at the end of the year but ANYWAY.

Kanade and Shizuku showing up is just because i needed two people connected to two of our people. I don’t know what school kanade/25ji go to. MMJ are frontier they’re. Idols. I have no idea who frau platin is. Actual answer probably Iori. But instead. Haruhi Minamoto. Fuck you.

There’s a lot about what I did with honami that ends up feeling like favorite character favoritism. And it IS. But it was also tied to the fact she did brass band in middle school, so she’s converted to being the most theatre oriented behind Shiho. Rather than Honami being ostracized for what she is in canon, it’s for acting, which was mainly because i needed a reason for her to quit acting specifically. Centering acting does shift the fact that for both honami and shiho acting becomes the center of their straining relationship with ichika/each other, rather than their interpersonal problems. But revue generally ties personal problems and the stage up together, so i think it’s not an unfair thing to change, and it’s not so much a change for Shiho, anyway.

Also honami’s weapon IS NOT A SCYTHE. It is just a lance. They have pretty boring revue weapons. The scythe joke is ABOUT HER NAME ONLY. IT IS UNFORTUNATE, BUT MERELY COINCIDENCE. WE SHOULD KILL KOCHO SHIZUHA.

The. Story is meant to conceptually cover what would be the school story (partially)+opening arc… a hypothetical main story (which you will never see from me because SCOPE) would large scale consist of them trying to form an official association and performance festival, etc etc etc, alongside their individual character arcs.

As far as the characters, shiho’s follow up would cover um. Obviously. Saki and Ichika have both taken Shiho helping/joining the association to mean that she’s not planning on transferring but that is still very much on the table for her. Only Honami is aware that the . Fights within their group aren’t over yet which is meant to compound with a certain lack of confrontation.

Honami’s would center around that whole revue weapon business, and the sense of regaining her brilliance. There are certain elements that tie into pjsk canon in terms of her (re)finding the confidence to speak her mind and put her foot down more, slowly. I think also as a secondary thing she gets into directing, over time.

Saki’s the most vague in my mind. I think she’s got passion and conviction but a sort of lack of direction, even though those two usually lead to the third. It’s the least developed in my brain so far. There’s also maybe something about her illness, both in terms of recognizing her own limits and acknowledging them, but also in not sidelining herself from going for lead roles, or something.

Ichika sort of lacks a lot as a stage girl initially. In her idea that she has parts of the rest of the group in herself i thought about including some implication that she doesn’t know what she would pass on to the three of them in return, but i couldn’t fit a line in about it without drawing a lot of attention to it, and it would fly under the radar after that revue and not come up again for a while. She’s also still carrying baggage for assuming the fault of the department shutting down.

Point is, when saki and ichika agree about not fighting each other and only facing other schools from now on, they are entirely off base. Things aren’t really fully aligned.

Okay. Now for my least favorite part. I thought revue intros would be fun and now i have to talk about them a little bit briefly. All of them contain an element of their name, alongside. Okay.

Saki’s is a mess well okay that’s not fair they’re all a mess to me . The “Bright skies” in the opening references the her last name, and the reference to blossoms her first name. Hers also overtly. References Rinmeiki.

Shiho’s isn’t tied to rinmeiki at all and the name references are the most vague, but her is very. Situationally accurate and i think remains so. She does the hard carrying for the revue conversion and i think up until the transferring confrontation comes to a head she’s often sort of . Antagonistic in trying to push the rest to either rise to the challenge or give up. “Brilliance pierces through the artificial shades” is the reference to her name. Brilliance standing in for sun and um. Sun piercing through the treetops. Also the final line the use of the word rises.

Ichika’s guided by the light of stars is her name reference, alongside the “melody of our song” thing. Rinmeiki are referenced as well, “against the flow of history” and the thing about her being a hero.

Honami’s is so heavy handed it hurts me and that’s what she gets for being last. She references all four of their names, and doesn’t have a specific Rinmeiki reference.

They also all specifically reference themselves differently. Ichika and Saki as students of rinmeikan, shiho as merely a stage girl, and honami as part of the performance association (which technically doesn’t exist officially when she says that).

I think…that’s kind of everything I’ve got…at least for now. That’s the bulk of it, really, i think. I hope. I don’t know :)

[stereax]

over explain hockey rpf pairings and why people like them - sincerely a girlie who wants to get into rpf but only knows her home team

hahahaha, alright :)

hockey rpf: a thing

So firstly, I'll say that, honestly, I'm not the top person to answer this. I am a bit of a fanfic writer, but I'm nowhere near established enough to have a very concrete understanding of it all.

That being said - generally, the reason any RPF (real-person fiction) exists is as an extension of a parasocial relationship. RPF allows people to project feelings onto a fictionalized version of a real person (here a hockey player) who we know much more about than they do us.

RPF can be divided into two subcategories - Player x Player and Player x Reader.

"x readers" (generally found on Tumblr) are often contested in the world of RPF, as many people consider it a bit too far in breaking the fourth wall. There are also issues with diversity in "x readers". The reader in question is almost always assumed white, Anglo-American, cisgender, female, heterosexual, heteroromantic, neurotypical, not fat, not disabled and not disordered in any way. Not only does this reinforce a "beauty standard" (by insinuating that only this kind of person is "attractive enough" to be a partner of a hockey player), it alienates those who do not fall into these categories - this is especially pertinent, at least in my limited experience, for transmasculine people, for whom being perceived as female can cause discomfort and dysphoria. If you're an "x reader" writer reading this and thinking that you're the problem for writing to uphold this standard, please don't feel bad - this is the standard "x reader" fiction has upheld for years. I ask only that you consider writing for more diverse audiences. Maybe one of your next "x readers" could be for a character explicitly written to be of color, or a transgender character, or the character could be hard of hearing or require a wheelchair... The possibilities are endless.

Enough about "x readers" and my gripes on them, though, as your question leads me to believe you're not all that interested in them. Player x player fics (generally posted on Ao3), while not as divisive as "x readers", also carry their own issues, often around misportrayal. For instance, some hockey players, such as Carey Price and Zach Whitecloud, have Indigenous backgrounds, which are an important part of their identities, but are rarely discussed in any detail.

In both areas, it's generally emphasized not to have the fics interact with the public figures - this means archive-locking on Ao3 and other measures to reduce the probability of players actually finding and reading these fics. Don't send a hockey player fic about him boning his teammate. That's weird.

As perhaps the "homoerotic homophobic" sport, hockey RPF situates itself in an environment that allows writers, who are often queer, to tackle issues of sexuality (sometimes gender as well) in a sport that is not always tolerant, mimicking some writers' experiences with homophobia and transphobia. This is especially pertinent in an era when Pride jerseys are being disavowed by players and the NHL itself.

The main idea of RPF, though, isn't a group of queer scholars writing treatises on queer topics - it's simply being a witness to the joy of others, watching people you like being happy (with each other) in situations just left of reality. Hockey, and hockey players, are just the medium for finding that joy. I think that's the long and short of it, honestly. I've spent a solid half hour trying to figure out a better way to put it and I really can't. People care about hockey pairs because they care about the players and want to see them happy. Whether it's a realistic hockey fic or a high fantasy AU where the players are royalty and knights, the idea is to create something that makes oneself (and others) happy. There are fics that, for some of us, hit home in a way that fundamentally changes our point of view on life. Not every fic is earth-shattering, but they are all labors of love, generally in the name of love, and perhaps that's something to cherish in and of itself.

Let's get into some of the pairings, then.

Generally, the more popular pairings have some sort of impetus or drive behind them - an interaction (or usually series thereof) that makes the pair enticing. Popular pairings almost always deal with popular players, too - it is incredibly rare that bottom-six players and journeymen are featured in fics.

Often, the impetus for a pair is them being teammates and growing close, giving interviews about each other, having good chemistry (and cuddles!) on the ice, and so on and so forth. Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin, Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews, Jamie Drysdale/Trevor Zegras are some of the most common teammate pairs on Ao3 - going into the specifics on each pair I mention from here on out would require my making entire primers at this point, which others have done far better than I could. Teammate pairings are often denoted by jersey numbers. (8771, 3416, 611, respectively.)

The other main impetus for a pair is a rivalry. Who doesn't love a good rivals to lovers? Leon Draisaitl/Matthew Tkachuk, Sidney Crosby/Claude Giroux, Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid are some of the top rival pairings, with each having strong motives. The first stems from the Battle of Alberta and Draisaitl's "get off the ice" comment about Tkachuk before combining for a sweet goal during one of the All-Star Games; the second is the Pennsylvania teams' rivalry that led to Crosby basically breaking Giroux's wrists before they made up on one of the Worlds Team Canada rosters with Crosby centering Giroux; the 2015 draft class where Eichel and McDavid were pit against each other and the media-stoked rivalry, only stronger now that the "worse" player Eichel has a Stanley Cup whereas the Oilers' "savior" and "generational talent" McDavid is still Cupless, fuel that pairing.) These pairings generally are denoted by portmanteaus of last names. (MattDrai, Cheesby [Giroux's love of grilled cheese makes a better pairing name], McEichel.)

Obviously for pairing names, there are exceptions - Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid is often referred to as McDrai and not 2997, as one example. Oftentimes, numbers or last names aren't used, and it's just written as "first name/first name" or "firstfirst" - sidgeno and nicojack are two examples of that. That works better when your pair has at least one distinguishable name.

As always, I know this is far from complete, and I invite others in the HRPF community to share their thoughts and experiences as well! :)

Your hometown team (don't know what it is) probably has a few pairs that are written about. If you're up to it, maybe start from there. If that feels a bit much for you, maybe start from a pair whose players you aren't yet emotionally attached to, from a different team. That's, of course, if you want to dive into the world of hockey RPF at all - if not, that's totally cool too!

If you want to know more about a specific pair, let me know and I'll do some Tumblr trawling for ya.