#And want control of the stories that get told about them in the aftermath

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I think fandom can sometimes look at things as if Harry and/or Louis are the main characters of everything that happens to or around them, which can really skew people's perceptions. I don't know if you've seen yet, but some horrific allegations came out about Emrata's ex-husband today. I think it's probably likely that that makeout happened because she wanted a big story so there would be different headlines about herself out there between "Emrata's ex boyfriend posts her nude" and "Emrata's ex husband accused of sexual misconduct" (which to be clear I think is entirely valid, she is and should be free to attempt to make and control her own narrative rather than being at the mercy of the narratives of the men around her). And while Harry had his reasons for agreeing, obviously, I think it's entirely possible that his reasons look more like doing a favor for a friend/friendly acquaintance in a tough spot and maybe getting paid, rather than some specific strategy or narrative on Harry's part.

Thanks so much for this anon - I might not have picked up on it otherwise and it's really important context. I absolutely agree that it suggests she would have very strong motivations to make out with Harry Styles. Taking control of her own story is a great strategy to deal with the fact that people are putting her names in headlines of stories about her husband's abuse.

To me that makes it seem more likely that it'll be transitory, but we'll have to wait and see to know either way.

[furiousgoldfish]

When people hear stories about abuse, they often get fascinated and interested in the abuser, and the 'mystery' behind their behaviour. They'll want to analyze what happened to this person to make them act in such twisted and sadistic ways, and they want to find the past event or past abuse that would 'explain it all'. Abusers will also, very happily recount the past abuse whenever it's time to explain away their behaviour, so nobody could hold them accountable, because after all, they had had it rough! Of course they're now abusive, it's only natural.

Fascination with explaining away abuser's behaviour often leaves victim's situation forgotten and ignored. Victims are supposed to just 'get over it', not be so sensitive, and be careful to not turn into abusers themselves, because after all, being abused means you become an abuser, according to the abuser. Except it doesn't, and victims often don't end up abusing anyone else, especially not in the horrific ways they themselves have been abused. So we're having two opposing stories: one is told by the abuser, and it's easy, simple, explains everything away, and it says, abuse causes future abusers, I am the proof, I was abused and now I am like this. Victim's story goes: I was abused, and now I struggle to function, I have cptsd, I have flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, eating disorder. I struggle with suicidal feelings and wishing I didn't exist. I feel like I'm not important at all in this world and like I have no community, no family, no home. Failure of everyone to help me while I was being abused caused me to feel like an outcast from society, someone who isn't a part of it, who doesn't matter. I would never do this to another person, I feel like a part of me was torn away into pieces and I struggle to put myself back together.

Now that story is complex, it implicates the society in failing to stop the abuse and making the victim's life worse, it showcases the actual consequences of abuse, which are not 'becoming evil', but feeling ultimately traumatized and damaged, struggling to find joy and happiness in life in the aftermath. Society doesn't want to hear that; it makes abuse into a problem that should collectively be dealt with, rather than pushing it all onto individuals who find themselves trapped in it and suffering. It's much easier to pretend that abuse just makes someone abusive, and for people who are abusive, we need to feel sorry for, because they were 'made to be like this', and for those abused, we just need to shame them and control them so they don't become abusive themselves.

There are abusers who have lived privileged lives, there are abusers who have been spoiled and rewarded for their acts of abuse. Most abusers don't show the symptoms of trauma nearly as bad as the victims of abuse do, they're most often just having the symptoms of 'I lash out my anger on those who cannot defend themselves' and 'everyone needs to feel sorry for me because I am having the roughest time on the planet'. Weird how the victims almost never develop these two symptoms! Victims will go and compare their situation to everyone who has it worse, and will struggle to express or direct anger at anything. 

So what is the actual source of abuse, if not past trauma? There's no study or statistics that can tell us that for sure, and abusers are careful to maintain their story and are not interested in being studied past what makes people feel bad for them. I would guess that it's a mix of entitlement, being in a position of power over someone vulnerable, never having to develop empathy or compassion, being rewarded continuously for acts of abuse, and social influence (admiring other abusers and wanting the power they have). A lot of social structures support and enable abuse of those who are at the very bottom of it, with very few protections against it. A lot of people believe it's their right to abuse someone if they have the power over that person, and gain power specifically for that cause. Abusers will have children and believe this is their property and they can do whatever they please with it, abuse being a part of it.

If we don't know where abuse comes from, how do we combat it? I don't believe in feeling sorry for the abusers or giving them endless attention, chances, excuses and rationalizations; instead I believe we should stand firm on the fact that abuse is inexcusable, and will have consequences, regardless of how it came into their behaviour. If abuse always had consequences, regardless of the history of the abuser, they would know they can't get away with it, that they can't later make everyone feel sorry for them and go on with their sob stories. Abuse would get them punished, not sympathized with.

I also believe the abuser's point of view should be decentralized; it should be victims who get to speak. It's easy for the abuser to show themselves in the positive light, minimizing the abuse, insisting the victim provoked or wanted it, that it wasn't that bad and it was done with 'best intentions'. But if we listened to victims, we would quickly understand that anyone who can do this to another person is monstrous, and should not be extended any sympathy. Abusers don't extend their sympathy to the victims when they abuse, so why should they expect to get it? Society should take abuse more seriously and put defenses into place, so abusers are not as easily able to put it behind closed doors. Resources for recognizing abuse, especially child abuse and intimate abuse, should be taught, spread and shared in society, so nobody would be able to convince another that suffering abuse is normal, or justified.

One of the biggest barriers to escaping abuse is victim confessing what's been happening to a trusted family member or a friend, and then this family member or a friend shaming and blaming them for it, instead of offering help and protection. It takes a lot of courage to even say something out loud, knowing the abuser would punish them for it, and then to be punished externally for speaking out, it's devastating. If abuse was taken seriously, and victims understood to be fault-free, but singled out, isolated and hurt in a way that nobody should be, and it was understood it's a societal responsibility to protect them against this, it would be easier to speak out, and get support. It often takes a society to help someone get free, because abusers are hell-bent on abusing once they start to, the victims need multiple barriers before abusers could get anywhere near them.

And why shouldn't we want that? If we know there are people in society such as children, young people, people without regular income, poor people, disabled people, compassionate people, marginalized people, people who struggle to recognize and flag down predators, shouldn't we want to make sure they're protected? That nothing bad happens to them, and they're free to live their lives safe from those who would do them continuous harm and make them want to die? We want our young, old, kind, vulnerable, sensitive, disabled, poor, compassionate and marginalized people safe and happy. There's no reason to throw them under the bus and leave them to suffer abuse.

[nocreativityfornames]

Barbatos and Solomon's first meeting and a theory of mine, aka: what if Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his friend?

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SWD S3 AND NB S1 AHEAD

Okay, so we've had pieces of info about their first meeting for a while now, but after collecting everything I could on these two to make my recent posts I was able to put them together and here it is.

First, there are the two times the story was briefly told in Obey Me! SWD, this one being from lesson 53-16 when Asmo discusses his first meeting with Solomon and then asks Barbatos about his:

And this next one being from lesson 49-A when Asmo asks about it for the first time and Solomon doesn't want to tell him:

And we learn what happened in the aftermath from Thirteen when she tells us about it in Obey Me! NB lesson 11-10:

So Solomon risked his life to summon Barbatos using an incantation and was left on the brink of death because of it, all because he "desperately needed his powers to control time", and after their interaction and whatever happened there, Barbatos took him to the Fountain of Knowledge and declared him the new protector of it.

By the way, they didn't make a pact during their first meeting but later on instead, or at least that's what I got from Barbatos saying:

I'm saying this because "eventually" is vague enough to be open to interpretation and could mean that they did make a pact during their first meeting and that it only took some bargaining for Barbatos to agree. But the way I saw it was that the pact was made later on.

So, the questions left unanswered from this are:

1 ) What made Solomon want to control time badly enough for him to seriously risk his life for it?

2 ) Did Barbatos help Solomon by using his powers to control time like he wanted him to?

Because it never says that Barbatos agreed to Solomon's "desperate need", and it doesn't say why Solomon was so desperate for it in the first place, only telling us that there was something he wanted enough to risk death for it.

But it does answer WHY later.

At first I thought we didn't have more info on their first meeting, but then I remembered this little moment from Obey Me! NB ( that I added to my post afterward and here's the screenshot from the post because I was too lazy to open the game and go to the lesson again ):

So Solomon almost died summoning Barbatos because he desperately needed his powers to control time after causing serious destruction to the Human World with his...?

Well, maybe, the passage does say that Barbatos appeared before him and not that he was purposely summoned by him, but it could be that the book is just depicting what people at the time thought happened, since it makes it sound like that was their first meeting when Barbatos himself said that Solomon summoning him was how they first met.

Anyway, let's assume I'm right and that's what happened and the reason why Solomon needed Barbatos was to fix the damage he did to the Human World unintentionally.

THE MAIN THEORY: Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his childhood friend's life, who was affected by Solomon's powers going out of control.

This is something that Solomon tells us in Obey Me! NB lesson 14-16, that he had a friend while he was locked up in the basement as a kid. He tells us the story of how they met and says that from then on the friend started visiting him regularly and that they would chat through the bars of the window basement and that's how their interactions went for however long. But then while telling us about them he suddenly stops:

And thus this became my current theory.

Solomon's powers, which have always vastly surpassed your usual human's, start getting out of control and becomes a threat to the world, endangering one of his loved ones ( much like MC's in S2 with Lucifer ). And desperate to save their life and out of what to do, he summons a demon he knows can control time to help him.

Judging by how Solomon struggles to tell the story to MC though, we can assume that it didn't end well.

Maybe Barbatos refused to save his friend/had no way to do it ( he can only travel through timelines and not actually go back and change the one where he is ) and Solomon had to accept the fact that they were dying and say goodbye and this was the moment when he made this promise to them to become a good sorcerer, learn how to control his powers and protect humanity.

Or maybe Barbatos did try to save them/told Solomon how to do it but it ended badly somehow and that's what brings Solomon pain when he tries to talk about it.

[unboundprompts]

Hero and Villain Prompts

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How to Write a Good Villain

How to Make Readers Fear Your Villain

Hero and Villain Banter:

You're Sick (#1)

Hell to Pay (#27)

Responses to Someone Trying to Stab You (list)

Responses to Being Punched (list)

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This Devil Within Me (#15)

This Heart of Mine (#16)

Alone in the World (#42)

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Prompts About Being Stalked (list)

Hero is told by Villain that their Friend Betrayed them (list)

No Fight Left (#118)

Betrayed Your Kind (#123)

Powers Getting Stronger (#126)

The Hero Chooses to Save the World Instead of Their Lover (list)

Who Decided We Were Enemies? (#135)

I Am Not The One Who Can Help You (#137)

I Can't Control It (#146)

The Line Between Hero and Human (#166)

Hero x Villain Prompts:

Hero Avenges Villain

Rivals to Friends Dialogue (list)

Love Me or Fear Me (#40)

Fated Villain x Hero (list)

Hero and Villain Whump:

The Consequences to Follow (#28)

The Antidote (#43)

The Sedative (#122)

It's Over (#176)

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The Decoy (#46)

Two Jerk Best Friends (list)

Villain x Villain (list)

Two Dystopian Killers/Criminals (list)

Superpower Prompts:

The Visions (#65)

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Civilian that Patches Hero's Injuries (list)

Hero Struggling to Balance their Civilian Life (list)

Hero Removing Their Mask / Identity Exposed (list)

Sidekick Prompts:

Devoted Sidekick x Hero-Turned-Villain (list)

Villain x Hero's Sidekick

Mentor Prompts:

The Aftermath of Student's Fight with Villain

[waynewifey]

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

[teenwolf-theoriginals]

ava and rob

pairing: tommy shelby x reader + dad!tommy

warnings: mild swearing, over-protective/controlling tommy

summary: ava and rob elope

side note: another fic inspired by the shelby family from this fic

side note #2: other fics in the shelby chaos series: dad!tommy, mr giraffe, the boys, and her name is, evening shelby chaos, happy birthday, my love

Tommy drummed his fingers on the table, staring out into the hallway that led upstairs. With each tap he counted the stairs, repeating twice as he listened to the echoes of a busy workplace. Typewriters clicking and employees muffled voices discussing the betting numbers while they paced the floor.

"Is it legal?".

"Rob's friend stood as a witness".

"Which friend?".

"It doesn’t matter, Tommy. We missed an important day in our daughter's life because she thought she had to hide it from us, given your reaction to anything Rob related". You replied, taking the seat opposite your silently fuming husband who replaced tapping on the table with stroking the sides of his half-smoked cigarette.

"She hid this from us because she knew we would say no. And don't you try and lie to me and say you would have approved. Ava's fucking 18, she's too young for marriage".

"Well, it's done now".

"It can be undone". He calmly responded sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tommy, no. You will not turn a happy moment into a nightmare".

"Are you fucking kidding me, eh? For once, be on my side when it comes to the children".

"I have been on your side. But often the way you react is...explosive, and my first instinct is to shield the children from the aftermath".

"They are grown now, love. And when they disobey, the appropriate methods will be used so they learn what it means to be in this family".

"Do you hear how that sounds?".

He stood, chair scrapping across the floor, causing you to flinch at the unnerving sound. Crushing the cigarette, Tommy’s eyes flickered to you as he straightened his coat collar. "You're the best mother the children could ever ask for. But I am your husband, and sometimes, I need you too".

"Tommy-".

"I'll be home late".

You breathed in deeply, slowly exhaling, knowing it would take more than a few exhales to prepare for the avalanche.

You were thankful the children were out with Frances. They did not need to hear another argument or witness more Shelby chaos. For the afternoon, the rest of the family would bask in peace, while you and Tommy dealt with the aftermath of Ava’s life choices. His office door remained ajar, an indication that while the business Tommy was dealing with held importance, the family could interrupt and he wouldn’t get mad. A system put in place after the boys were born as they had a tendency to bulldoze their way into the office during their many imaginative plays - sheriffs protecting their town, monster hunters, and cowboy standoffs. Each week felt like a new story that immersed every corner of the house. And despite the house being quite large, the boys couldn’t help but wander into Tommy’s office. He scolded them, they apologized and left mumbling how their game had been ruined, while you played the heroic mother who soothed a frustrated husband and two deflated young boys. Ever since then, the system worked wonders with each child quickly learning when the door remained ajar any interruption - no matter how big or small - Tommy welcomed.

"If you want me to be on your side, then perhaps going behind my back to start the process of undoing Ava's marriage isn't the best way to do that". You commented. Tommy in his usual spot, head down, reading and sorting through the documents sprawled on the desk, until he heard your voice and discarded the document in hand, leaning back in his chair.

"Who told you?".

"It doesn’t matter. You should have discussed it with me, before going ahead to potentially ruin our daughter's marriage".

"I did, this morning".

"That wasn't a proper discussion, Tommy".

"What would you like, eh? For us to have a cup of tea, and talk about how I always demand and ruin everybody’s happiness? How it would be easier to allow them to stay married, and avoid all the fucking bullshit of Shelby fighting?. Expect, I don't want to do any of that, love. It's a waste of time. And you know as well as I, that what Ava did was the fucking wrong thing".

"I understand your anger, I do. But you punishing her by undoing the marriage isn't the right thing either". You fired back.

"It's the only way she'll learn".

"Learn what?".

"Learn to fucking respect me! Ever since she met Robert it's been one fucking headache after another. I know Ava enjoys a good romantic tale, but falling for the first boy who made a few charming remarks, fucking hell”. Tommy shook his head, adding. “She needs to learn in this family everybody does what they are told".

You pondered for a moment as Tommy resumed business. The view from his office windows obscured slightly by the red curtains drawn, but evidence of light rain could be heard against the glass. Tommy’s eyes flickered to you, when he too, realized the rain had started to fall. Within a heavy moment, some lightness shone through - no longer than the length of a heartbeat - as you and Tommy shared a small smile.

"What about Florence?". You questioned, eyes falling to the photo of Flo on the desk.

"What about her?".

"She's going to get married one day. What happens if she does what Ava did?".

"She won’t".

"If we're being honest, Tommy, you have a completely different set of rules for Flo. And all the children have noticed. With Ava, she grew up too fast, and you hate that. It's always been she's the oldest, she gets the most rules. Charlie and Theo, they are sweet boys who have inherited none of your hardness. But you don't want sweet boys, you want men. And I have no idea about Eleanor. She might be exactly like you, or want nothing to do with this family". Tommy glanced up, hands clasped together, elbows resting on the dark oak desk intently listening to truths he could not refute. "But Flo, you're more gentle with her, more patient and willing to allow disobedience. Expect she will grow up and she will cause you headaches. But all it would take is for Flo to flutter her blue eyes at you, plead for you to let her do what she wants and you will compromise. But what happens, Tommy, when Flo no longer looks at you with adoration? When she refuses to listen to you too?".

"Out of all our children, Flo is the one who will always remain loyal to me".

"Because you give her whatever she wants, right?".

"Yes. And Because Flo has already learned to do as she is told". He replied, nursing his whiskey as he leaned on the desk, stretching his legs for the first time since he had stepped foot into the office two hours ago. "Ava didn't make a small mistake, love. She deliberately chose to marry Rob behind our backs. And I don't like anybody who goes behind my back and makes choices without my permission. I am her father, and I will choose a suitable match for her".

"You mean you will choose a suitable match for the company, not Ava".

"Ava has a responsibility to the family-".

"Tommy, I swear, if I hear you say that one more time".

"It was never meant to be fucking serious". He semi-shouted, placing the glass down.

"You don't know what it was meant to be because you hardly ever spend any time with them. Despite what you may believe there are some people out there that marry for love".

"I know, alright. I know, because we married for love".

"Then why do you want to take that away from Ava? Put her with someone that may not love her, or worse".

"I won't let that happen. He will be looked into thoroughly".

"You would rather entrust someone who could turn out to be dangerous, instead of Rob, who you know will love and protect her?. I know you know that, Tommy”. You pleaded, resting your hands on his thighs. “Regardless of how you personally feel about Rob, I know that you see how happy he makes her".

"Some of our children won't have the luxury of marrying for love. I'm sorry, alright. But that's the way it has to be".

"I forgave you for Charlie. You said no more bullets, and so far, you have kept your word. But I know deep down there will be more bullets. And one day, I might lose one of my sons or both of them. But if you take this away from Ava...you lose me".

"You won't walk away, not after everything we've been through".

"If you're so sure, then pick up that phone and end her marriage. And then see when you get back from business whether your family is here or not".

"You love me. You love me so fucking much". He calmly replied, lifting the phone and dialing. "And you have loved me through far worse than this. And you won't throw our marriage away, because you had plenty of chances to do that and you stayed. You may leave for a while, but eventually, we will compromise. Then you'll come home, Frances will look after the children, and you and I will go to bed". Tommy momentarily shifted his attention, eyes on you as he spoke. "Arthur, we won't be making it to dinner tonight. Maybe another".

You blinked, completely having forgotten about the dinner plans at Arthur and Linda’s. Tommy set down the phone, reaching for the cigarette resting against the ashtray. "When I come back from business, my family will still be here. No bags will be packed".

"I saw the uncertainty in your eyes, Tommy".

"I choose not to gamble our marriage to save you from the pain of having to leave. Because you would only leave to punish me, not because you thought it was the right thing to do".

"The agreement we have is that you can do whatever the hell you want when it comes to business, but that does not apply to our children".

"But it does. The children's futures, who they marry, what role they have within the business, all of it, is my decision".

"That's not the kind of marriage we spent years building, Tommy".

"The kind of marriage we have built won't be broken by this, it won't even make a fucking dent. We have strength, loyalty, and a trust that wavers, but it holds steady. And the way we fuck has not changed since the first time. And so, when your body tells me you don't love me anymore, then maybe your threat of leaving will make me panic. Until then, no more empty fucking threats".

Silence fell alongside the last few drops of rain. Tommy took a gulp of whiskey, extending his arm, but you shook your head. Your mood could not be quelled by strong liquor. And from Tommy’s frowned brow, neither could his.

"How are we going to compromise, eh?".

"I don't know. You want to ruin our daughter's marriage, and I won't support you in that".

Tommy pursed his lips. He hoped your support would be granted to him despite the opposing view on the matter. But he knew not to place bets on hope. It was unpredictable at its best, and cruel at its worst. "Alright then, I can do this without your support". He replied, taking one last inhale of nicotine and securing his gun in its holster.

"Tommy!"

"What, eh!? Tell me!"

“Lower your voice the children have come home”. You warned, hearing the crunch of shoes upon gravel. Theo and Charlie’s voices the first to grace the foyer. Followed by Florence politely thanking Frances for helping unbutton her coat.

Once no more voices echoed, Tommy spoke, retaining a firm voice but no sign of anger. "You should be more upset about this. She went behind your back too. Robbed you of the chance to see her get married".

"I am upset. But I'm not going to use that as an excuse to ruin her happiness. All she did was make an impulsive decision. God knows, you have made plenty of those".

"Yes, I have. And I'm about to make another".

Reaching his car, the sound of celebrations and joy alerted Tommy. He walked across the gravel road knowing exactly where the laughter, music and smell of fire was coming from. Johnny's camp came into view minutes later. Johnny’s many cousin’s, along with a few friends of Ava and Rob’s surrounded the blissful couple.

Johnny stood beside Tommy smelling of several different liquors, the most prominent being champagne. "One down, another four to go, eh, Tom?". He beamed, clapping Tommy on the back. Although Tommy was sure Johnny's happy mood had more to do with the pretty women around his campsite, one, if not more, would surely end up in Johnny's bed before the evening came to an end.

"They got married without my permission, Johnny".

"Oh...fuck. I wondered why the rest of the family weren't here. What are you gonna do, Tom?".

"I was on my way to undo it".

"Was?".

Tommy sighed, eyes glued on Ava who hadn't stopped smiling. Her arm around Robert's waist, beaming with a speechless look as if she couldn't believe her luck that she had found an honest man. Tommy was all too familiar with that look. While he wasn't a good man, you looked at him in such a way.

"Fuck". Tommy whispered, leaving before Ava noticed.

Late afternoon brought more rain leading Ava to return home, unaware that you had seen her slip in and retire upstairs. Given her some time to bask in the bliss of love, you lightly knocked thirty minutes later. Instantly upon meeting your gaze, Ava’s smile faded. She spared no time in sitting on the bed, ready for the disappointment her decision had caused.

"I'm sorry that we got married without you, Mum".

You hadn’t noticed how hurt you were until you saw Ava in her wedding dress. A simple lace white dress stopping below her knees, dawning 3/4 sleeves and a modest neckline. Her brunette hair half-tied, strands falling where they desired and small pearl beads woven throughout. Beyond beautiful like you knew she would be on her wedding day.

Swallowing the heartbreak, you sat beside her, bed faintly creaking due to all the times Flo had jumped up and down. "Why did you go behind our backs, Ava".

"Because I know Dad wouldn't approve. He hates Rob".

"He doesn't hate Rob, sweetheart. Listen, I know that being in this family can be frustrating. All your father's rules and demands can be unfair at the best of times. But your father is very-".

"Controlling? Demanding? Believes everyone should follow his rules, no matter what. I know it’s because he’s overly protective. I know that being a Shelby comes with dangers. But Dad’s wrong about Rob. He won’t hurt me. And he isn’t with me because of who I am or because he wants money or a favour. This is real”. Pointing to your rings, Ava added. "You and Dad married for love, right?"

You smiled. "We did".

"So why can't I?. You told me of how you and Dad met. How you fell in love with him almost straight away. And it scared you because you never felt that way about someone. You and Dad got married only months after you met. So all of this bullshit about us not being ready is just that, bullshit. Because one could argue you and Dad weren't ready. Yet, you married him anyway".

"When your father and I met, things did move fairly quicker. But I didn't give myself to him until I was certain he was the man that I could love for the rest of my life. And I don't just mean through arguments or broken promises. I mean even through his darkest side. And at first, that wasn't easy. Some days, it still isn't. But I know in my heart that your father is the only man for me".

"Rob's the only one for me, I know it".

"Love is a feeling, sweetheart, but it's also a choice". You softly replied, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Your father and I throughout our entire marriage have chosen to love each other through the bad and through the absolute worse".

"So will Rob and I".

"Now it feels easy. You and Rob haven't had any big arguments or struggles. But, Ava, marriage, love, they aren't easy".

"Rob will never be like Dad. That's what you're worried about, isn't it?".

"I'm worried you jumped too fast, too soon based on a few good, easy, years of being with Rob. Sweetheart, people change like the seasons".

"Rob isn't like Dad!" She exclaimed, pacing to the window.

"I know he's not, Ava. Truthfully, no man is like your father. But could you love Rob if he lays or almost lays in another woman's bed? Could you stay with Rob if there are months of arguing, no intimacy, back and forth issues that make you feel like the walls are closing in?"

"Yes, I can. Because he would do the same for me". 

“What if one day, he doesn’t? And you’re the only one left fighting for the marriage?”.

Ava looked at her gold band, shaking her head. Turning to you, her eyes softened. "I see the way you and Dad are. The strong marriage you guys have built despite all the minefields waiting to destroy it. But every time Dad steps on one of those minefields, every time one of them blows up, you are right there by his side. Out of everyone in this family, Dad listens to you the most. I see how calm he is with you. How after a stressful day Dad's first instinct is to be with you. I've seen the way you two look at each other, and the way he smiles when you tell him that you love him. If Rob and I can have even half of the love you and Dad do, then I will count myself lucky. I know marriage is work, and we will have our own set of struggles. But I feel in my heart that Rob is the only man I want to walk through those minefields with. Please, Mum, don't let Dad take this away".

Pulling her into a hug, you caught a glimpse of Tommy walking away.

“Why don’t you get changed while I go see what mood your father is in”.

Ava nodded, a hopeful glimmer in her dark blue eyes.

Despite the door being shut, you walked into the office. Three chairs sat in front of the desk, another to the left. Tommy stood by the window, hands in pockets. “The door was closed, and that means?”.

“That your wife can come in because that rule does not apply to her”.

In a lesser bad mood, your cheeky response would have calmed him. In a better mood, he would have chuckled. ”Today, it does”. He remarked.

“I know you heard some of what Ava and I said. Specifically, her speech about our marriage”.

Tommy sighed, turning. “I’m calling a meeting. Have Ava come down, Rob and Johnny will be here shortly”.

“Is this meeting going to end with our daughter in tears?”.

“You’ll find out soon enough”.

Pressing your lips at Tommy’s vagueness, you called Ava down. Rob and Johnny patiently waiting. Ava sat beside Rob, intertwining her hand in his. You sat in the chair on the left, awaiting Tommy to speak.

Standing behind his desk, Tommy dragged out the nicotine, blinking a few times before getting started. "Everyone in this family gets one. One fucking pass, one chance. Ava, you used yours on marrying Rob without my permission. You made a life-changing choice and you will stick to it". Turning to Robert who swallowed sharply under Tommy’s gaze and finger point. "Your responsibility now is to look after my daughter. And if she ever comes to me, or if I ever hear so much as a fucking whisper that you have hurt her, there will be no excuse you can give that will save you”. Returning his gaze to Ava, Tommy handed her an envelope. Inside, a silver key. "There is a reasonable sized house not far from Johnny's camp. It is yours. Create whatever life you want. Ava, you want to be a married woman so badly, now you get to find out what that life is really like. And if the marriage sours in any way, there will be no divorce. There will only be separation. You think Robert's the one, the fucking man for you, now the both of you can find out how true that really is".

“Dad, I...thank you”.

“Don’t thank me just yet. Robert, you are now family. That means, you will work for the business. Come by the Betting Shop tomorrow and we can discuss where your skills are most useful”.

“I will be there”.

“Good. Because no matter how long you are married to my daughter, I expect your loyalty. And if you fail in any of your duties as a man, a member of this family or as a husband, you won't be a part of this family no more”.

“You have my word that I won’t fail, Mr Shelby”.

“Only time will tell, Robert”. Tommy replied, sending a shiver down everyone’s spine, the strongest running down Rob’s. “Johnny, show them the house and help them get settled over the next few days”.

Johnny nodded, all three walking across the fields, Tommy watching from the window. You pressed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. "I know you had to fight every impulse not to undo their marriage".

Forcing himself to look away, Tommy stroked your cheek. You, the only remedy for a bad day. “Bed? I have a few things to apologize for".

"Tomorrow? I'm pretty tired".

"Alright, tomorrow then".

Tommy frowned when you kissed him a little too quick for his liking. He let it slide, knowing tomorrow all would return to normal.

one week later

It had been a still week. No water rocking the foundation, no storm brewing on the horizon for you and the children. For Tommy, he had been battling an ill feeling. One he hadn't felt since his near-miss. Days ago you and he had finally found a moment to lay in bed. The children were with Ava, helping her settle further into the house, promising to return with Frances by mid-day. Sex had ended quicker than Tommy would have liked. No, one more round. No, lying on his chest afterwards wearing his favourite smile. And no chance for Tommy to tease another round with you rolling your beautiful eyes at his ambitious nature upon seeing the time, wanting nothing more than to feel you once more before he returned to business and you returned to looking after the house and children.

He sat in deep thought on the ottoman staring at the new champagne coloured sheets and pillows to match.

"Are you not coming to bed? Do you have late night business that requires your attention?". Seeing Tommy still wearing his work attire.

"No. But our marriage does. I thought everything was settled?. Forgiven?".

"It is". You said, taking off your earnings and placing them in the homemade white jewellery box the boys had made in school years ago. Decorated with ‘I love Mum’, hearts and flowers all around, it leaned more to the right and sometimes the lid got stuck. But you loved it.

"Try again. This time, don't lie to me".

"Don't treat me like I am one of your men who failed to obey you, Tommy".

"I know what every sound you make means, and how your body reacts to me. Which is why I know you just lied to me".

Realization dawned, causing you to shift your gaze to the neatly made bed. "All because I moaned a little quieter than usual?".

"No, because you laid in our fucking bed and made me think I was pleasing my wife. Made it seem like we were back to a good place".

"We're fine, Tommy. Things have settled".

"Then if you're not mad at me for the way I handled Ava and Rob, then you and I have a bigger problem. We've gone to bed after I've done worse things than wanting to undo our daughter's marriage. But this, is what you choose to stay mad at me for, eh?"

"I'm not mad. All I want is for you to give Rob a chance. To go visit your daughter and see how happy she is".

"I will".

"When?".

"When I decide, alright”. He sternly replied. “But right now my priority isn't visiting Ava's new home, it's you. And until I figure out what has been going on with you this past week, nothing else matters".

"I'm allowed an off night, Tommy".

Walking over to the vanity, Tommy took the brush from your hands, helping you stand in between his legs. "When we lay in our bed, there should be no doubt of how much we love each other. We fuck for love. How many other married couples do you know that still fuck for love, eh?. Once, I can let it go. Put it down to stress, a bad mood. But if it happens again, you and I will have a very serious discussion about our marriage". He kissed you softly, adding more pressure before ending the kiss. "I know it's been hard lately. With Charlie getting shot, Ava and Rob. With me working late nights recently, and you feeling like you're raising the children all on your own. I understand it hasn't been easy. But you have my word, that I will make it up to you".

"You can start by visiting Ava. Start by making an effort to accept Rob, to accept their marriage. I know you are waiting for that whisper of wrong doing, but it's not coming. They are committed to making the marriage work".

"They have barely been married for a month. Still floating in the bliss of young love, but it will pass".

"And when it does, you still won't get what you want".

"I always get what I want, love”.

You stepped back, Tommy immediately pulling you back to him and resting his hands on your waist. “I'm trying, alright. But the safety of this family comes first, you know that. Which means I need to be prepared for anything, regardless if it happens. I allowed them to stay married because you asked me to. But make no mistake, love, if there is so much as a whisper of wrong doing, I will intervene. And no amount of pleading from Ava, excuses from Robert or even you will change my mind".

"Give me your word that you won't make up a wrong doing, or take a small incident and turn it into something else to give you cause?".

"You have my word. Now, give me your word, when the day comes you will support me".

"If that day comes and if you have a solid reason, I will support you".

"Alright, then it's finally settled. We can put the matter to rest. As for the other matter, I have asked Frances and Ada to look after the children while you and I spend this weekend in the countryside".

You smiled at the idea. The countryside a sacred place for you and Tommy, holding many cherished memories. But your favourite one consisted of tangled sheets, soft music and three words that further cemented your bond with Tommy. "We haven't gone to the countryside since Theo was born".

"I know, that's why I made plans. We need some time alone, love".

"And then after we get back will you visit Ava?".

"I want to focus on us, alright. Tomorrow, I want you ready and packed. We will leave mid-day and arrive in time for dinner".

He kissed you and prepared for bed. Tommy's side dipped minutes later, hand roaming over your stomach and thigh, going no further. As if he was testing the waters, then changing his mind and deciding his need for you could wait one more day.

[secriden]

so. lets talk about an unhappily married rich tai tai!tongrak and bodyguard!mahasamut au

Note: tai tai (太太) is slang for a trophy wife of a rich man who doesn't work and lives a life of luxury. (think Desperate Housewives types)

(inspired by this inexplicably TVB drama-esque fortpeat photoshoot and a feverish exchange yesterday with @williamrikers):

tongrak winds up being arranged marriage off as a child to the son of another rich family (something like lian/kuea in cutie pie, but minus any actual feelings/history). tongrak's family is new money rich and not as established but his husband-to-be is from one of those old money practically royalty families and MUCH wealthier. tongrak decides to uphold the agreement once he's of age cuz it'll help his family establish their business too and and he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life anyway. so he gets married right out of university to his fiance who is. fine. you know, fairly handsome and decent in bed and stuff. tongrak can't complain.

so things are just normal and honestly kind of boring and tongrak spends most of his days shopping or hanging out with connor and vie when they're not busy or writing for fun. he likes writing a lot, and his husband allows him to indulge in his hobby although he's told in no uncertain terms that he can never try to get published because that wouldn't be a 'good look' for the company.

but over the years his husband grows increasingly controlling, needing to know where tongrak is at all times, limiting his time with his friends (especially connor), and growing more and more jumpy and paranoid as if he thinks someone is after him.

things come to a head one day when their house is broken into. the invaders use tongrak to threaten his husband (he gets a smacked around a bit) and this is how tongrak finds about the secret safe, and the shady business partners, and the fact that their entire fortune is now tied up in some very risky business ventures with loose ties to the mafia. (like they're still rich af but if things go wrong the whole company could crumble like a house of cards)

tongrak is furious. husband tells him he'll handle things, orders him to be silent. threatens to go after his sister and mother if tongrak goes to the authorities. so tongrak has no choice but to keep quiet, but he demands that he gets to find a personal bodyguard and insists that he gets to choose him personally.

enter: mahasamut. tongrak finds out about him through connor, and mahasamut agrees to move from the island to Bangkok to bodyguard for a truly insane amount of money because why not? (connor doesn't tell tongrak that mahasamut had refused the job until he'd sent him tongrak's picture) ((for the purposes of this story, mahasamut's has a vague military background))

at first, tongrak and mahasamut don't exactly get along because mahasamut is cocky and sarcastic and rude and pushes all of tongrak's buttons. (he's also so fucking sexy and tongrak finds himself waking up to wet sheets for the first time since his literal teenage years. he starts something with his husband but although they both come tongrak still feels like something was missing).

the 2nd time their home is invaded, the husband isn't around and mahasamut manages to fight off the 3 men sent to their home who were suppose to beat tongrak up as a warning to his husband. who is evidently Not Handling It.

in the aftermath, tongrak is very shaken and at one point had gotten cut because one of the thugs had shattered a glass cabinet which triggered a flashback of his memories of his abusive father. mahasamut winds up talking him down from his panic attack (although the invaders manage to escape while mahasamut's attentions are on tongrak), and holding tongrak until he stops shaking.

things thaw considerably between them. mahasamut is so incredibly gentle with tongrak over the next few days and keeps trying to cheer him up/distract him from his worries cuz he gets super jumpy. they go on cute grocery shopping dates outings so mahasamut can cook for him. tongrak also delights in watching mahasamut try all the fancy fusion food you can only find in Bangkok. he tells mahasamut about his writing and mahasamut asks to read some of his work and tells him what he likes about his stories and tongrak's never felt so seen in his life.

husband comes home from his business trip and tongrak and he have a huge yelling match where husband dismisses tongrak's fear because "nothing really happened to you, you're fine" and keeps insisting he just "needs more time to sort things out" and "stop being such a drama queen about this".

(mahasamut stands outside the room, fists clenched, feet rooted in place. he knows he can't do anything but the way tongrak's voice breaks with his tears nearly makes him reach for the door.)

husband goes on another business trip and tongrak says fuck it. he doesn't feel safe in his home, so he asks mahasamut if they can go visit his island. husband is displeased but can't really find a good reason to say no to the request, so tongrak books the flights and the private yacht and mashsamut watches in fond amusement as tongrak packs his bag with completely unpractical cothes - all silk and velvet tops and leather and corduroy pants with silver buckles.

(mahasamut secretly packs a much more practical set of clothes in his own bag for tongrak: shorts and light cotton shirts and hey if he adds a few of the semi-translucent shirts he loves on tongrak that's his business.)

the island is truly paradise, and tongrak is able to forget the whole mess of the situation with the business and his husband. mahasamut takes him out to sea, teaches him how to free dive and shows him all the secret places only the locals know. talks about how much he loves the island and its people and how greedy corporations are starting to slowly choke the life out if the land. opens up about his father and how he's learned to be strong because he never had anyone to rely on. how he's learned to embrace violence so he'd have the power to choose gentleness.

when tongrak leans forward and kisses him, it feels inevitable. it feels like fate.

[explicit stuff under the cut]

what are we doing? tongrak thinks, even as he goes pliant under mahasamut's hands, licks his fingertips, before sucking them into his mouth.

where is this going? mahasamut wonders, as he watches tongrak sink down on his cock, pretty pretty lips caught between teeth as they both gasp for air.

i'm going to keep you. tongrak vows, as he presses his fingers against the red marks littered across his collarbones and lets himself fall back into masasamut's endlessly warm embrace.

(they don't talk about it, even though they probably should. but tongrak doesn't know what he can promise, and mahasamut is too afraid to reach for too much only to watch tongrak slip entirely from his fingers.)

they fuck like animals for the week they spend on the island, learning each other's bodies inside and out. tongrak has a series of discoveries about himself and his body that has him questioning how he could have lived in his passionless marriage for the past 10 years.

the days leading up to their return to Bangkok are hard. tongrak hates watching the marks mahasamut left on his skin slowly fade again. mahasamut starts marking him with his come instead - on his chest, his lips, his cock, his hole; rubbed into his skin like an invisible promise. it's not enough, but it helps; settles tongrak inside his skin just a little bit so that he can bear going home.

returning home isn't easy, and once-familiar spaces feel like strangers; tongrak cannot recognise himself anymore in the rich tapestries and ostentatious furniture. he feels hallowed out, like mahasamut dug into his core and then put him back together wholly differently.

he hates that he has to be careful now. he can't touch mahasamut, can't allow his eyes to linger too long for fear that his husband's servants will report to their master that tongrak's been unfaithful. he knows, now, that his husband can be cruel, that he has ties to people who can make mahasamut disappear and suddenly tongrak's gained a slew of new nightmares overnight.

his husband's hands feel like brands on his skin. he can't refuse, because he has no reason to; tongrak's never refused sex before, so it would be too obvious if he suddenly starts now. but its torture and tongrak hates the splintered look of pain in mahasamut's eyes the morning after his husband returns home.

the night after his husband leaves again, tongrak lays awake until 3 in the morning, waiting for the house to fall completely silent around him. he sneaks his way to mahasamut's room, crawls into his bed, lets mahasamut kiss away his silent tears and quiet his frantic apologies; lets mahasamut make love to him until dawn begins to break. when mahsamut comes inside him, something fundamental slots back into place.

it's mahasamut that breaks the silence. eyes wide, shoulders hunched - its the smallest tongrak has ever seen mahasamut and it pulls something sharp inside his ribs.

i think i'm in love with you, mahasamut tells him, and tongrak has to stifle his sobs in his fist.

(the servants are waking up soon, he has to go, but this matters. this matters.)

i love you too, he whispers back and the way the first rays of the sun break on the smile on mahasamut's lips makes tongrak's breath catch inside his chest.

when tongrak sneaks back into his room, barely settling under the covers before one of the maids knocks on his door to 'wake' him up he feels settled in his skin in a way he never has before. he doesn't have an answer yet, but he will.

something has to give, and for the warmth of mahasamut's arms and the desperation in his kisses, tongrak will find a way.

[ashwhowrites]

I need help! Are we wanting a happy ending with them getting together or them not ending up together? Let me know your thoughts

Here is part 2- not much that has action. More internal thoughts on both sides of the situation :)

never proofread

Eddie found himself back in a hotel room, again all over. His hands burned whenever he looked at them. The hands he put on his own kid. He was spiraling out of control. He did exactly what his wife was praying he would never do. And then added fire to it all when he lost control with Jake.

She told him to get a lawyer and he didn't know where to start with what she meant. Did she mean divorce? Fidning for custody? Was she going to turn him in him for putting his hands on their son? His brain was going a million miles an hour.

He should have known he couldn't just stop. He heard the story about Liam, he heard about the aftermath and how fucked up he became. Why did Eddie think he could easily avoid the addiction? That he could spend many nights getting high and just turn it off in a day?

He hates what Liam put Jake through, and he hates himself for doing it to him and Aria. He knew Y/N didn't deserve it either. She lost someone she loved to drugs before, and now it was happening again. He felt so damn guilty for putting her through this again. He can't imagine the nights she spent crying when he was at parties and blowing his life away.

She loved him and supported him with everything and he betrayed her in a way that was too close to home.

Eddie knew in his heart that his family was more important than the drugs. He knew he wasn't that far gone that he would choose the drugs over them. He just did a horrible job at showing it.

But he wasn't going to just give up. He had the time to get clean, he had places to go if the withdrawals were worse than he planned. He wasn't afraid to throw himself in rehab if that's what she wanted. He was going to get clean and stay clean.

He knew he had to make it up to Jake as well. All the games he missed because he couldn't get out of bed.

He wasn't going to be in any of Aria's birthday pictures, and one she will ask. He owed to make that up to her too.

And Y/N? He didn't know where to start with making it up to her. She welcomed Eddie into Jake's life and he put Jake in danger. That was unforgivable in many ways. And Eddie wasn't sure if that was something he could exactly "make" up to her. But he knew he'd never make his family feel scared of him again.

~~~

He called every morning, and every night. Sometimes she'd pick up, tell him about Aria's day but that was it. She never said a word about Jake and Eddie understood that. It's been a week since the fallout. He knew that he didn't deserve to even get to call her so he took every minute she gave.

Jake had a game this afternoon, Eddie was nervous to show up, but he refused to miss another game. He wanted to be better and this was a shitty step in the right direction. It wasn't much but he hoped it showed he was serious about being there.

He found Y/N and Aria on the bleachers, he respected their space and sat on the opposite side. He didn't want Jake to be distracted by him. He didn't want to upset Jake in a place he always felt positive in.

As the game went on, the more Eddie got invested. Kicking himself for missing so many games. He tried to keep his cheering low and to himself. Not wanting to alert anyone that he was there and make them all feel uneasy.

Jake's team won and he watched as the boy ran to Y/N, hugging her and talking all about his hits. Eddie craved to be there with them, and it hurt knowing he messed up. It was a reminder that even the little things were different because of his mistakes.

~~~

Y/N was used to being alone since Eddie was distant the whole time he was on tour, but this was so much worse. Knowing he was just blocks away and she couldn't feel him. It was like when she was being tortured, he was dangling right there, but everything was different. It wasn't easy, he messed up and it hurt her to make sure he was held accountable. She wanted her husband back and wanted to fall asleep in his arms. She wanted him to make Aria breakfast, and drive Jake to school.

She just wanted it to go back to the way it was before he left for that damn tour. Before he ruined everything and put them in this tough spot.

She almost felt like she was seeing him places. She felt like he was at that baseball game but when she looked he wasn't there. She shrugged it off and took Jake for his celebration ice cream. Aria blabbing happily in her arms.

~~~

As she got Aria settled for bed, she heard her phone ring. She set Aria down and pulled out her phone. Eddie's name and face flashed across her screen. She took a deep breath and answered the call. Allowing him to say goodnight to their daughter.

Once Aria was set for bed, she moved out of the room. Eddie nervously asked if he could talk to Jake. Eddie felt disappointment settle in when Y/N said that Jake refused. But Eddie accepted his answer.

"Thanks for answering, I love you." He held his breath as he waited for her to say something back. A tiny whisper of "I love you too," traveled through the phone. He felt himself smile as she hung up. It was small but it was something.

She got herself ready for bed, Eddie's side still left untouched. She wanted her husband and her family back. But there was a ton of damage done. She was worried they might not be able to come back from this. Would she look like a fool for forgiving him? Would she be a horrible mother for allowing him near Jake again? She had so many questions and hated she was the only one with the answers.

~~~

Jake tossed and turned in his bed. The picture of him and Eddie framed on his desk was taunting him.

He knew what Eddie did was wrong, but he missed him. He never saw his real dad and barely missed him. But Jake has missed Eddie since he left for tour. The Eddie that came home from the tour wasn't his dad, and he missed that version of Eddie.

He believed that version of Eddie was still there, inside him. How did he know?

He saw Eddie on the bleachers during his game. He still cared and he wanted to make up for his mistakes.

Jake wasn't scared of Eddie, he missed his dad.

~~~

Eddie was seconds away from passing out when he heard his phone ding. He blinked open his eyes and adjusted to the brightness on his screen.

"Thanks for coming today, dad"

Eddie smiled at the text from Jake.

He has a lot of work to do fixing himself for his family. But he knew he wouldn't stop until he did.

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[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter II : Prometheus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and gore; Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse; Description of injury; Angst; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 6.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II : PROMETHEUS

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us?

-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

As the days turned to weeks turned to months since that moment in the dark with the Mandalorian, there had been a steadily rising thrum of tumultuous, frenzied energy coiling within you. A ball of hissing, ravenous snakes ready to strike at any moment. Desire turned to want turned to a demand that you were ill equipped to deal with – emotionally and mentally.

You’d had many things in your life that you’d wanted but had not been able to have, and yet that did not mean that you’d ever been good at not getting them. Impulse control, a staying hand, were not things the Maker had blessed you with. 

You’d met an old Ugnaught female with a penchant for loving spotchka and Sabacc a little too much. More than she’d ever enjoyed keeping steady work or following the rules or anything else really. You and she had some things in common when it came to that pesky little issue of impulse control. After a brief acquaintanceship, she’d put you on to a group that met sometimes on Nevarro to… support each other… or better yet, to sit around and discuss your issues and vices together in some pseudo imitation of self improvement – the art of staying one’s hand, or whatever you wanted to call it – and if it was not with much success, it was with intention, which you thought was, in the end, just as significant. She said she found the meetings understanding or companionable or something you pretended to tell yourself you didn’t care about. 

And sometimes you went. 

If for nothing else, to feel as if there were at least a few people in the entire galaxy who knew your name, who knew you were alive, who knew you were alone. You sat there amongst the old and weathered humans and the other ragtag team of varying organics and even the occasional droid, and listened to their stories and their losses and their fear during the reign of the Empire – their struggle, their fight, their apathy now, to survive, to stay afloat in the bleak imperial aftermath. 

One such survivor with a nasty love for Spice, needled you the worst. His face was haggard, tired, and there was something so forlorn about him, something that sent a sudden flash of fear through you. Is that what I will be one day? Is that what I already am? I am a person, you think wearily, aren’t I? His voice was tough and ragged, as if he’d gone out into the lava fields and swallowed a chunk of ashen rock to fill his belly, savaging his throat in the process, grating your ears and your nerves.

“Nothing really feels better than when I’m drinking a bottle of spotchka, Spice humming through my veins, watching the sunset. My worries, my fears… they don’t weigh as heavily on my shoulders. And what else is there to do? This is easy. I am good at this. It is a simple thing, even if I must forsake all the rest. And I am tired. I want peace.”

You could understand this. 

What else had there been to do under the subjugation of a darker and more powerful force than you could have ever been? You had been young and alone and terrified. In possession of a power beyond your understanding. You had been enslaved, trapped, abused, and then, for a moment, on a precipice. One which you’d taken a leap off of at the first chance. Now though, you were tired, and you too, wanted peace. Even if you weren’t entirely sure if you still believed in the concept. Once, it had seemed easy to lay down and take it, do as you were told. Until it wasn’t, or… until there had been the opportunity for something different. When the Sith lords were crumbling into obscurity and failure one by one, until only you and your master remained. A singular darkness in the galaxy. A lone chance, a step too far, to run had been all you’d needed. A flash of beskar in your mind – screaming, the snuffing of a silver flame –  you blink the nightmare, memory, away, be honest with yourself, eyes pressed together tightly, spiky lashes crinkling between your lids.

And you, girl? What about you? What do you have to tell?

Me? Nothing. Nothing to tell – nothing you’d not burn me for.

Or the truth: it was discovered that I could wield the Force when I was a young child. I was hunted, my parents were slaughtered, and I was stolen. Turned and enfolded into their cult. I never had a chance. I never had a choice. I am trying to find my choices again. 

The Jedi, the Sith, the Empire, they all fell a long time ago. I need to let the past die, but I will not die with it. So, you do not share that which would get you killed. You could very well be taken for an Imperial remnant and hunted, executed. No matter that you’d been just as powerless, despite everything, just as tortured, just as subjugated as anyone else, in all the ways that really counted. Despite everything – sometimes this great power counted for very little.

They had wanted to make you a God, but a God muzzled, a God restrained. 

God struck, God swept, God nonsensical. 

Your dreams are always strange and violent now – nightmares of a terrible past coalescing with hopes of a better future. How to reconcile that hideous thing you had been once before with the better thing you were trying to be now? Too difficult to conceptualize. No matter how many times you listened to your strange group of fellow survivors and vice-havers – a funny thing for what would they say, do, to you, if they knew that unlike their spotchka or Spice addictions, your predilection was of a darker nature – to kill, to maim, to destroy?

You leave Nevarro for a time, after that realization. That no matter how much you might ingratiate yourself, no matter the connections you may pretend to make, there is still that, there is still the truth of you. 

The second time you meet him, you are where you should not be. 

You’d come to Corellia. Filled with a sick and twisted sort of glee that you could roll around in the worst underbelly of the galaxy and survive, hold your own. It was an exercise in restraint and brawn and arrogance, too, perhaps. The crime syndicates running untethered, spice trade, and the harsh reality of industrial life made for a cesspool of the worst sort of cretins. 

In some ways, it was exciting for you, and you knew you were looking for something. Something to whet your appetite, quench your thirst, fill the void. 

After all, it had been two months, what felt like millenia, since that dark storage alcove where he’d imprinted himself in you. Weeks of having the ghost of him haunt you, the memory of his rough voice whispering phantom-like in your ear, seeing him in your dreams, your nightmares. Desperate interludes in whatever cold and lonely bed you’d claimed for the night, your fingers rubbing frantically at your slippery, swollen clit, trying to chase that feeling he’d pulled out of you and failing. Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian. And then, one late night, when you’re on the trail of one such lead towards self destruction, masqueraded as a good time, there, around the corner, in the distance – like a wound of beskar looming in the night – it’s your Mandalorian. 

You pause your skulking, stepping back to wrap yourself in the shadows, away from prying eyes. You take him in. Fucking tall and broad, outlined in pale flickering silver. He’s arguing with a young Corellian, sticking his finger in the male's face threateningly, other hand hovering menacingly over his blaster, and you can’t help but snicker. Surly beast, that he is. There is a large part of you that does not want him to see you, who had hoped you’d never again come across him, and then a quieter, but infinitely harder part of you to ignore…

The helmet snaps towards you suddenly, as if sensing your attention, cocks to the side –  very much like some predatory animal casting sights on its next meal – his next bounty. You don’t need further warning, you spin on your heel and start in the opposite direction. Heart knocking on the walls of your chest to be let out, let me out, let me out, I want to go with him, cunt going tight and wet, ridiculous, desperate.

A chant that sings: again, again, again, chase me again. Catch me again. I don't know you, but I missed you anyway. I remember you, and I want you. 

That dark, red thread snaps taut again, humming with the song of your fates. You already know how this is going to end. How you want it to end.

You always know how everything is going to end. 

You pick up your pace, trying to confuse him with your turnarounds, sliding through the alleys and archways and scurrying around corners quickly, and then on one particularly slippery turn, there he is. An impenetrable wall of beskar that you’re slamming into, jarring your brain within your skull, shaking your heart in the cage of your ribs, jostling an impish little giggle out of you. 

A pause to catch your breath, he’d cut around and surprised you somehow, “Mandalorian.”

“Brat.” You laugh, his voice is still the same. The depth of it, not a figment of your imagination. 

“Fancy meeting you here. On holiday?” You croon, dragging a single, provoking finger across his chest plate, stepping closer to him, pressing up on your tiptoes to grin up at him. You listen to his huff of vexation through the modulator. Oh, don’t pretend, shiny. I know you love this too. 

“What are you doing here? Corellia isn’t safe.” Stern, stern tone. If you’d let him huff and puff at you, you’re sure he would. 

You roll your eyes at him, as if anything on this planet could do any real harm to the likes of you. “Oh, don’t I know it. I’ve caused the greatest trouble while I’ve been here. It’s been terrible fun.”

He shakes his head down at you disapprovingly, one hand propped on his hip like he’s gearing up to chastise you, readying that menacing finger to shake at you too. You shimmy up against him some more, pressing your breasts up against his chest plate, and you listen to a whisper soft groan vibrate through that impenetrable mask. Not so impenetrable as to keep you out, though, so it seems. You tuck the tips of both hands into the top edge of his breast plate to pull your own face up towards his, and even then, he still has to crook his neck down to look at you. He doesn’t buckle, not even a little bit, under the weight of you trying to hang off of him. You feel one of his hands come up to cup the sharp edge of your elbow, and even through the thick fabric of your dark tunic and the leather of his gloves, his touch feels like fire, like the Force. Stronger than anything else in the whole universe. For some reason, you can feel that deep well of power within you stir at the sight of him, at his touch, like a swirling pool of magma, waiting to rise up and spill out unencumbered. You feel on edge, stretched thin and held together only by frayed seams. 

“Did you miss me, Mandalorian?” He tugs you slightly further into the shadow of the building’s side looking up and around the two of you for one moment, oh, yes, yes, yes, again, again, making sure your surroundings are clear. 

“You like to be chased,” he says back.

“I like to be caught.” 

“By me.”

“By you.” Truth.

“Only me.” It seems he’s finally learned to flirt.

You step up onto his big boot with the tip of one small foot, really trying to climb him in earnest now, bringing yourself up even closer to him, and he wraps his other hand around your waist beneath your cloak, the tips of his long fingers splayed over the top swell of your ass to press your pelvis into his. You bury your nose into the folds of his cape around his throat, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him, hooking an arm around the back of his neck. You want to kiss him.

“Last time, you said, maybe next time. Is that now?” You breathe into that dark space beneath his helmet’s edge.

You listen to his soft groan, the two of you pulling each other in even closer, trying to meld yourselves to each other, liquid metal’s mixing, beskar melted and writhing amidst fire and flame, and as you’re about to beg him to find another dark alcove for the two of you, you sense them at the same time that his helmet snaps up and to the side, right as they’re descending upon the shadows where you’re hidden, too late to block their blaster fire as they open upon the two of you without any sort of protection to shield yourselves with. Your reaction time is delayed blocking their attack, distracted by him, by his touch, and too long since you’ve openly and freely wielded your power, and he spins, suddenly, huge frame hunching over your smaller one to protect you from the onslaught, to shield you. You hear the bolts of plasma make contact with the beskar over his back, and then his harsh, pained groan as they meet the unprotected places between the gaps in his armor. You spot the Corellian he was arguing with before, over his shoulder. 

A savage growl rips from his throat as his knees buckle, and you wrap one arm around his strong waist, trying to hold him up as he struggles to remain upright. He’s been hit badly in the side, you feel the hot seep of his blood spill. You raise your other hand over his shoulder then, a furious seeping coil starting to move through your body. 

“You’re hit,” you whisper up at him. One of his hands claws at your shoulder, he’s so heavy, while the other braces against the wall behind you, trying to remain upright. 

“My blaster,” he snarls, “Take my blaster. Run.”

“It’s alright,” you say calmly, even though you feel anything but. You can feel his life force literally seeping out of him, and you’re hit, square in the face, with the realization of how truly strong he is. He is so potent, so alive, that his presence in the Force is almost a physical thing despite his lack of powers. The Force lives through us all, and he is powerful, all in his own right, purely for the vitality of him. 

He is strong and good, and that seeping coil turns into a ravenous howl.

There is a group of five organics of varying species surrounding the two of you, frozen by that lifted hand of yours. It closes into a fist, and three of them fall instantly dead, minds pulverized under the force of your power. The edges of your vision go slightly dark. 

“It’s going to be alright,” you say gently to him again. His hand on your shoulder is twisting painfully into your clothes, your joint straining beneath his strength, and he shakes you sharply, trying to push you away. “Fucking go. Why aren’t you moving?” One of his knees buckles, his voice wavers. He’s bleeding out so fast. You grip him beneath his elbows and start to slowly help him lower to the ground. One of his knees suddenly gives out, cracking harshly against the hard ground beneath. “What are you doing?” There’s a flavor of desperation infusing his tone. As if he’s worried for you. As if he is worried for you. “There are too many of them, and I’m–” His voice cuts off with a choked snarl of agony. He’s hurt, he’s hurt. You need to move quickly, or he’s going to die. 

“It’ll be alright, Mandalorian. Wait here. I’ll be right back for you.” He says something more, something growled that sounds suspiciously like, fucking hate it when you say Mandalorian like that, can’t kriffing do as you’re told, but your attention is no longer on him. You step in front of him, blocking the sight of his fallen form from the two remaining, soon to be dead, males. You cast a wide net of the Force around the four of you. Besides the three dead bodies, there is nothing else awake and lurking in the shadows for about a two kilometer radius. Lovely. 

The Corellian is obviously the leader. You look towards the other first, a big, ugly Trandoshan, and as you set your sights on him, you release him from his paralysis, giving him a moment to get his bearings and reach for his blaster. He scrambles to pull it from its holster and fires directly at you. And at your once again raised hand, the beam of plasma freezes mid air in a thrumming, angry screech of red magma. You listen to the Trandoshan’s horrified gasp, watch his eyes go wide and terrified through your splayed fingers, “You’re–”

“Yes. I am.” You send the blaster beam back in his direction with a slight flick of your wrist, piercing him directly through the throat, and leaving a wide, smoking hole of charred flesh clean through its ugly neck. The body falls to the damp street with a harsh thud.

“And you?” You turn toward the Corellian. “Were you his bounty?” His eyes are frenzied, manic, terrified, “Ah, Sith got your tongue?” The acrid scent of urine permeates the air, and you let out a barking little chirp of a laugh. You can feel the Mandalorian fading behind you, struggling to stay alert. No time to play with your food. There is a part of you, small or large, you can’t tell now, in the haze of the Force overwhelming you after not having used it like this in so long, that is worried that this is a step in the wrong direction. You haven’t killed in a long time – not since that last one. No – don’t think of it. Not now. Not with him here. And perhaps, this is a step in the wrong direction, a step backwards, but there’s really no choice. They’ve hurt him. 

You have no choice other than this. 

You reach for your lightsaber strapped into a holster low on your thigh, an inconspicuous place where you can hide it in the dark folds of your clothes. You’ve not wielded one since your escape, since that last time. Your heart beats painfully in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s more of a blood hungry sort of excitement or out of fear for him, lying wounded behind you. 

-

“No… I’m just kidding.” A girlish little giggle, “I’m not a Sith anymore. Don’t worry. If I were still that, I’d draw this out. Make you suffer for a very, very long time for hurting him.” You pull something from your person then, and the night is filled with the crackling hissing sound of an igniting lightsaber. He’s never seen one in person before – only heard of them in stories. The dark street illuminated with the bright light of a violet colored plasma cross guard that sputters and wavers furiously, unstable, like the sound of metal being clawed to shreds. Despite the protection of his helmet, Din squeezes his eyes shut for an instant, afraid that the bright light would blind him, sear his retinas from their sockets. 

You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. Din has no power, but if he did, he is certain that he would be able to feel your presence in the Force as surely as he feels the blaster hole in his flank. Even powerless, he’s sure he can feel the humming waves of your strength brushing up against his armor clad form. 

“She’s never been wet before.” Your voice is inexplicably lovely, soft and lilting. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about you, after those hypnotizing eyes that had terrified him for the intensity of feeling they conveyed, the two warring colors, one lighter than the other, one cast in perpetual darkness and the other so vibrantly bright it almost glows. The way they’d enthralled him, forced him to go after you that night on Nevarro, if only so that he could look into them one more time. “You’ll be my first blood with this – I made her just recently…” You say casually, lifting the lightsaber up to appreciate it between the two of them. The Corellian is frozen still, and Din assumes that you’re holding him so. You’d killed all the rest without so much as a blink. You’d stopped the fucking blaster bolt mid air. Din has never witnessed such a thing in his entire life. He thinks, for a brief moment, that perhaps, he should be frightened, or worried. He’s bleeding out, he’s dying, prone on the ground and vulnerable, and this girl is of a capacity he’s never encountered thus far in all his travels through the galaxy. 

But he is not.

For some reason, the Mandalorian is not afraid. 

“Pretty, no?” You croon at the Corellian, and if Din was of a sound mind, and not currently delirious from blood loss, he’s sure he’d not have felt that twinge of ridiculous jealousy twist through his gut at hearing you give that soft voice to another male. You twirl the blade so fast he scarcely catches it, then lets your wrist fall, the angry buzzing tip of plasma touches the ground so it screeches and hisses. You seem to deflate for a second, arms hanging limply at your sides, and shake your head at him. “You hurt him,” you say so softly he has to strain to hear through the haze of blood loss. He’s fading. He does not want to leave you alone. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

You should not have to face this alone.

Another lightning fast twist of your wrist, the violet beam an arc of pure light through the night’s dark air, and then: “He’s mine.”

You slice the Corellian diagonally from hip to shoulder. Din does not think the creature even has a moment to realize what’s been done to him before the two halves of its body are sliding clean and wet against each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud. 

When you turn back to look down upon him, your eyes are filled with so much fear and hurt and desolation, and Din must close his own eyes to shutter himself away from the terrible sight of your pain. He never wants to see that look in you again. 

You seem to be a complicated amalgamation of a woman. At once strange and mercurial and violent. Wholly unreachable, unknowable. And then at the next moment: frightened, tender, soft. With a vulnerability that brings every protective, fighting instinct out in Din. Everything that makes him a Mandalorian. Everything that he holds so dearly within his Creed, you call to, after only one meeting in the dark. To protect you, to care for you, to venerate you. And the shroud of loneliness, the air of other that surrounds you, as if you’d never known the soft touch of a caring hand, the loving embrace of a mother – calls to the very same things within Din’s own soul. The same things he’d never had but always wanted. They were the same, and yet, so vastly different. Existing on two separate ends of the galaxy's spectrum. Creatures meant to be enemies, perhaps, to kill each other. And yet here he found himself, prostrate and bleeding on the ground as you defended his life. Entirely at you mercy.

And now you’ve saved him.

His eyes flutter shut once again, consciousness winking away. 

-

He’s as heavy as a star blasted bantha, and you feel that your bones will surely crack and crumble to dust beneath the weight of him leaning over your shoulder while you try to get him coherent enough to move his legs and walk. While at the same time, as inconspicuously as possible, trying to use the Force to support him on his other side, a tendril of power applying pressure to the ragged, bleeding hole in his side without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And then, also, of course, with the added strain of tugging the two separate halves of his bounty behind you, wrapped in some discarded tarp you’d found because even bleeding out and two paces away from dropping dead he’d still had the wherewithal for a muttered, don’t leave my bounty. If you roll your eyes at him any harder they’d surely fall right out of your skull. 

You are a small human, and he is a big, big man. Who is currently providing absolutely no help. 

“Kriffing come on, Mandalorian. You’ve got to help me out here. You’re heavier than a fucking rancor covered in all this metal.”

You see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye, trying to stir himself into coherence, “How did you do that?” He slurs.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you whine, drawing out the vowel at the end and ignoring his question. 

You hear a small huff of air pass through the modulator, “You’re just too– too small.” His words are too slow, his voice too weak. You try and propel the two of you forwards faster. 

“Psshh, don’t provoke me, or I’ll drop you.”

“How’d you– you do that? T– Too small…” A pained, savage snarl as he stumbles. You exert more of the Force to prop him up. Fuck it, if someone notices the two of you, you’ll just kill them. What’s one more after you’d just gone and done away with five in one fell swoop after months and months of nothing – of peace?

You’re sure your mind, and that disgustingly soft heart that’s been trying to force its way to life inside of your chest recently, will make you pay for this later. 

“I’m a wizard,” you deadpan. You’re sweating beneath your heavy layers, slightly dizzy from exerting so much power so quickly. You’re beginning to think that going completely cold bantha steak and cutting yourself off from the Force had been a mistake. You feel wrung out and stretched thin and weak. 

“No– not, little one,” he stutters.

“That’s it. I’m dropping you.” But you clutch your arm tighter around his waist, pressing your cheek up against the space between his shoulder pauldron and the edge of his chest plate. You can feel the sweltering heat from his skin steaming through the heavy material of his underweave. 

“Are not.” You can hear the wet gasps of his panting breath under the helmet, and the sleeve of the arm you have wrapped around his waist feels soaked through with his blood. You don’t know how he’s still conscious and making the best attempt he can to walk after all this. 

“Maker, what do you eat, beskar for breakfast also? Just tell me where your damn ship is before more of those mudscuffers find us.”

“Landing bay seven,” And you thread your fingers through the hand of the arm he’s got slung over your shoulders, tightly. You have to move faster. You have to make him be okay. But despite your anxiety and desire to rush, the two of you make your way slowly through the Corellian alleyways. Him, struggling to remain upright, you, trying desperately to not make your invisible strength entirely obvious. 

And you fail to notice the slithery little Twi’lek, watching the two of you from the shadows, completely unaware that she will await your return to Corellia for a long, long time to come. 

-

Dragging his heavy ass in through the open hatch of his, believe it or not,  piece of shit pre Imperial gun ship, with a grumbled, nice hunk of junk, that all he’d been able to counter with was a defensive hiss, as your arms were about to snap off under his weight, feels like a singular sort of victory after what the two of you had just gone through. His feet stumbling over one another, he’s just on this side of consciousness when you finally make it within the safety of his ship. He melts into a crashing heap of beskar on the durasteel floor, and you finally let go of the disgusting weight of the dead Corellian, as you move quickly to shut yourselves inside, engaging the security system and motion sensors, lest someone else decide to catch the two of you unawares. Spinning quickly back towards him to start ripping the beskar plates off his chest to get to his injury. You quickly realize that the armor is held together by complex magnetics hidden beneath each piece and swiftly disengage those over his chest and abdomen. He’s got on a thickly woven underweave beneath the underplates, and you make quick work of unfastening the closures on that, as well, but when you’ve reached the last layer of his clothing, a thin, dark undershirt, you pause. The material is warm and soft and worn, something you’re sure he must don all the time and meticulously maintain and care for, like all the other pieces of the intricate uniform of his Creed. A Creed which you’re not certain you’d be breaking by looking upon the uncovered skin of his chest and abdomen. But he’s dying, you think, and you have to save him, and you can feel the physical and intangible manifestations of that slow crawl towards death in the spill of his hot blood on your hands, slowly drooling onto the metal floor, as well as the slow seep of his life force out into the ether. He’s dying, and you have to save him. 

You push the last layer, keeping him covered from your eyes, up his chest. The blaster wound is a ragged mess of blood and charred flesh, to his right flank. The trajectory positioned high in the upper quadrant of his abdomen so that you’re fairly certain it must have nicked his liver. You probe gently at the wound inside with a tendril of the Force, and your panic ricochets up to a shrill crescendo within you – yes, he’s hit badly, a laceration to the uppermost corner of the organ. You move to stand quickly, sweating and stumbling in your panic towards the compartments along the walls of the hull, ripping open drawers and cabinets until you come across his med kit. There are bacta injections, hard to come by, but of course he’s well supplied – you can only imagine the collection of injuries he must have gathered throughout his travels, and patches inside, and you return to kneel at his side, knees cracking painfully against the cold, hard floor as you fall next to him. Hands shaking, vision slightly blurry, you pop the cap off of the syringe, and try and take deep steadying breaths as you pull down the neck of his shirt to get at the uppermost part of his shoulder. When you press the aggressive looking needle into his skin he jerks, and the sound of the helmet rolling against the floor has your eyes shooting up to his face, “It’s okay,” you try and soothe. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You press down on the plunger slowly, watching the bacta slowly make its way from the glass barrel into his arm. He gives a low groan of pain as the thick substance enters his muscle. Please, please, work. Please, you have to be okay. You pause for a second once the injection is done, watching the shallow, quick hiccups of his breath, the rapid dip of his abdomen, as if he’s struggling to continue the act, in pain. Fuck. You rip open one of the bacta patches and carefully place it over the gaping wound, reaching for two more after that to make sure the entire large circumference of the hole in his side is covered, and then go still. His breathing is still rapid and shallow, almost gasping, and you take in, for the first time, the entire vision of his naked chest and abdomen. Thick, strong waist, tapering down into slim hips, smeared in the dark vermillion of his blood, you watch the shifting of his abdominal muscles beneath his smooth, golden brown skin. You’d pushed his shirt high up on his chest, but you grip the edge to pull it down a little lower, making sure he’s only as uncovered as necessary. You’re not entirely sure how quickly the bacta should work – why isn’t he waking up, why isn’t he saying anything, why isn’t his breathing normalizing?

“Mandalorian,” you whisper, and the helmet shifts the tiniest bit towards the sound of your voice, the fingers of his left hand twitch and curl inwards. You place your other hand low on his belly, the edge of his shirt still gripped in your hand and scoot closer to him, your bent knees pressed into his hip. “Please–” you whisper and you realize your cheeks are wet, tears making a slow stream down your face. Your voice breaks, “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you know that this is your fault. You distracted him, led him on that ridiculous chase. He’d have captured his bounty and been safely on his way if it weren’t for you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” Not again, please, I can’t have done this again. You let your head hang forward, your torso bending slightly so that your forehead is pressed into his hip as you let your desperate and pathetically terrified tears fall. This is your fault. One more terrible thing come at your hands.

If you could only – don’t even think it, you do not possess the capacity for that sort of goodness – but the hopeless thought worms its way into your mind anyway, if you could only heal him with the Force. But you’d never possessed that sort of ability, only the strongest of Force users could wield their power for healing, and despite the fact that you can still feel the deep well of your power churning in your veins right now, after your brutal display on the streets of Corellia, you know that such a thing is beyond your capability. Such an act only possible to those with great aptitude for light wielding or those dark siders who were willing to pay a great and terrible price, that of stealing vitality from another being to enact such a power.

And you hate yourself more in this moment than all the others. You wish desperately, painfully that you could be a different sort of person, a different sort of monster. That you could be good. That you possessed the ability to do good with this Force that roils through your veins, and that should have helped you, but had only ever truly hurt you. 

What is the point of this great power within you, you think, if you cannot wield it in this most necessary of moments? In this instance when, more than any other, you wish you had the strength of the Force to heal him. With your head still pressed to his hip and your hands still on his chest and belly you open your eyes to watch your tears roll over his tan skin. I’m sorry, you think again, I wish you had never come across me. You watch the slow journey of your tears as they slide across his hip and drip silently down onto the floor of the hull, mixing with the dark crimson of his spilled blood. 

You’ve never been one for much faith in any sort of higher power, too many times in your life when you’d wished for something greater than you to come and save you gone unanswered, but you pray to the Maker in this moment that the Mandalorian survive this, please, please, he is good, please, let him survive this. Your eyes flutter closed, you feel the sweep of your lashes against his warm skin, and you pray to the Force and the Maker and any other entity out there in the vast, unending galaxy that a creature such as this, one who is strong and valiant and good, not be felled by an association with the likes of you. And as you think, please, just this one thing, just this one time, I’ll never ask for anything else ever again if you only save him now, you feel that space deep within you, where the very nectar of the Force lives in your soul, shift and churn, and it is as if one of the very building blocks of the core material that makes you what you are, slides out of that place and slots itself into him. Plugging away at the gaping, life threatening wound and mending his torn flesh and healing that which had been savaged. You feel the very fibers of him stitch themselves back together at that outpouring of yourself into his own body, and he has a piece of you now, even if he is unaware, even if, perhaps, he would not want it, you’ve given yourself to him in a way you’ve not ever done with anyone else before. Slotted yourself within him and plugged his wound away to heal him. 

You feel your body sag into his, all strength suddenly leaving you, but you force your muscles into movement and push yourself up off of him so that you can look up at his helmet covered face. His breathing suddenly stutters, and you freeze, your heart screaming in panic, but then he takes one long, deep breath, the wings of his rib cage flaring wide, and the rhythm returns to a slow, measured cadence. You take in the expanse of his strong abdomen, muscled, but also slightly soft around his belly button, the tantalizing trail of hair that disappears into his trousers. There are old scars and rough patches of poorly mended skin scattered across him, but his skin is also still soft and smooth and warm. His body is a weapon all on its own, battle hardened and made strong and resilient out of a necessity for survival, and beautiful. Above all else, he is beautiful. His long limbs are splayed wide on the durasteel floor. His cape is tangled around his throat and shoulders, and you move to pull the trapped folds from around his neck, giving him more freedom to breathe deeply. You tug the fabric down to spread out at his side so that you can lay on top of it. Your head is spinning now, your heart beating so fast you feel the rebounding rush of your blood in your eardrums. You’ve overexerted yourself, drawn too much power too quickly. Head spinning, vision going slightly dark at the edges, you feel a sharp, piercing pain behind your left eye, and your arms give out as you let yourself curl into a ball at his side, tucked into the crook of his underarm beneath his splayed limb. Right before you lose consciousness, you remember to pull his shirt down the rest of the way. He should be covered when he awakens, you don’t want him to worry that you’d violated him in any way, looked at his face or seen more of him than was absolutely necessary. He should feel reassured. You do not want him to be worried or afraid. 

When consciousness finally winks away, like a singular dying star in the vastness of space, your fingers are still twisted in his shirt over his belly.

Chapter III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[anachronistic-falsehood]

hi king how was the worm did you enjoy the worm how many Normal Feelings did that fucking d&d ending give you because they fucking. DEMOLISH me every time I think about it

I ENJOYED THE WORM I ENJOYED THE WORM SO FUCKING MUCH. GODDDD. SHAPE IM GOING TO THROW UP AND DIE BADLY. god. okay. alright. locking the fuck in im going to just rant about literally everything holy shit

ok so first of all taylor. TAYLOR. holy shit dude. girl who makes good decisions!!!!! sooo many good decisions!!! amy you have to alter my brain you have to do it to defeat scion you have to do it!!! im going to explode!!! taylor hebert thinking about how things could potentially help in the long term but never ever thinking about how her decisions effect people in the short term!!!! not thinking about how rachel and lisa and anyone else would feel seeing her ruin herself in a crazy attempt to get more powerful to defeat scion!!!!! GOD!!! and after the fact when she was talking with contessa, she admitted she would have done it differently. she REGRETTED IT. she has never ever admitted that she regretted any of her plans BUT SHE REGRETTED THIS ONE. SHE WOULD HAVE DONE IT DIFFERENTLY. HEAD IN FUCKING HANDS. TAYLOR HEBERT ADMITS SHE DID SOMETHING STUPID!!!!

and she's in another world with her dad now. hang on i sent messages 2 the hornfreaker discord that perfectly encapsulate my feelings about her i'll just put them here if i think about her for too long i feel like eating my carpet

ALSO DEFIANT. OKAY. DEFIANT. drives me fucking crazy that taylor was controlling all of the tinkers and having them make a huge fucking machine and the first time she had them use it she "gave defiant the honour of flicking the switch" <<EXACT PHRASING. like she KNEW that was something he'd want to do so she made him do it!!!!!! and i talked abt this in the discord too but i dont wanna scroll back that far to find my messages but when the tinkers left her influence they kept fucking building it!!!! and i just know defiant was the one to convince the others to keep working on it once she wasn't controlling them!!! i just fucking know it!!!! he would have been pissed about being controlled but he and taylor are So Fucking Similar he would have UNDERSTOOD what she was doing and pushed to make her plan happen. AND WHEN THE DEVICE WAS READY. HE WAS THE ONE AT THE SWITCH AGAIN. BUT WILLINGLY THIS TIME. THAT DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY. the story started because of taylor and colin and it fucking ended because of taylor and colin. it started with them at odds and ended because of them working together. AUGHHHHH

AND D&D OUAGHHGHHHHH THEYRE SO FUCKING. IMPORTANT TO ME. SHE'S FREE NOW. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. NO TEACHER IN HER CODE NO ONE FUCKING AROUND WITH HER MIND ANYMORE. NO ONE CHANGING HER AGAINST HER WILL. SHE'S FREE AND DEFIANT FREED HER. BUT ALSO SHE FREED HERSELF BECAUSE SHE MERGED WITH PANDORA WHICH WAS LITERALLY AN EARLIER VERSION OF HERSELF. IM GONNA EAT LEAD. THEY DID IT. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. SHE CAN DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS NOW. dude if you had told me back when i was reading the aftermath of the leviathan fight that colin arm master wallis would be one of my favourite characters ever i would have spit on you and cursed your name and thrown you out a window or something. god. he and dragon are so everything to me. im gonna throw up and die. he's no longer zeus he's content being a hephaestus....... "my worst days with you are better than my best days alone" "you saved me" "i never thought i would be a cape wife" im going to eat my carpet

[ancha-aus]

Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAU - Consequences

Hey @spotaus I got the thing!! :D

This is for after the main story of NewAge I believe. like two ish year. And there is some backstory to it.

For those who don't follow Spotaus and my back and forth messages.

In short: It is about dustedafterdeath (Dust X Geno X Reaper) but the start to their relationship isn't the best or healthiest. Geno wasn't as much interested in Dust for him but just wanted to know how Dust's magic works. meaning Geno had been faking interest and attraction just to grow closer to learn more. Dust saw through it and as you can assume it blew up in all their faces and there was aftermath (Reaper is an innocent in this all. He was trying to sweetly and nicely court Dust only to suddenly not be allowed near anymore. He was confused until he learned what happened.)

with the background out of the way. this is about Geno dealing with realising the damage he did and having to admit some things to himself.

Warning: Mentions of; past manupilation, unhealthy relationships, power disbalance, pushing and forcing past boundaries, and just emotional manupilation.

Oh also no beta or edits :D

*----------------------------------*

Geno lays on the bed in the guest room. Alone with his thoughts.

It still hurts that he isn't allowed in the meeting room anymore. Worse is the fact that neither Error or Reaper defended him to say it was fine.

Geno sighs and rolls to his side. It is fine. He messed stuff up and reaper is desperately trying to do damage control.

Damage he caused.

Geno sighs as he sits up and starts to pace the space in the room.

It isn't as if it is uncomfortable. the space is large and gorgeous as always and there are comfortable couches and chairs and there is a delicious meal. He can call a maid or servant to ask for more and the view is beautiful.

He just isn't allowed to leave the room unsupervised anymore.

Which sucks as he used to just be allowed to go anywhere he wanted. But his rights for that had been revoked.

Geno sighs as he sits on the chair near the window. looking outside. He searches the area but can't spot anyone interesting-

Geno groans as he hits his skull against the window "stop thinking like that." because that is the fucking core of the problem. Geno's inability to just see everyone as interesting people. He keeps mentally either calling people interesting or just unimportant and like they don't matter.

Something has to be broken in him. and Geno has no idea how to fix it. He didn't at first even believe it needed fixing.

One of his old spells and marks activates and Geno shoots upright with a grin. Dust is back at the castle. He has to concentrate and reach. Come on...

The stables? Why would he even go there? Aren't there stable hands around this place to do horses stuff and-

wait... didn't he like horses?

Geno frowns as he triest o remember. He wants to kick himself and hit his skull against the wall. This is so stupid! He knows he asked these things before. Why didn't he just listen? Why didn't he pay attention to things he liked and stuff he did?! Geno spoke with him about it. He knows he asked him because Geno had been trying to get Dust to trust him to ask the burning magical questions that Dust didn't seem to want to talk about!

Geno frowns and grins. Right! Killer told him before! Dust adores horses and works with the horses. Trains them and everything!

Geno feels bad about not knowing these things through Dust... maybe once he fixed his mistake he can try again? ask things and try to listen? Instead of first just zoning out and not paying attention at all to later only listening to the sound of his voice.

Dust doens't speak a lot... it felt nice to just listen to the sound later on.

Geno grins as he goes towards the door. It will be easy! He will just happen to be near the stables. He will just act as if he doesn't notice Dust and ask one of the stable hands if he can try riding a horse.

He will fall off, which Geno knows for sure will happen because he can't ride a horse. Then that will break the ice and tension as Dust will no doubt see and then Geno will look more like just another guy! Geno will laugh off his blunder and ask Dust for any horse riding tips.

Easy! Geno will only talk about the horses. a safe topic as Dust likes that! And maybe that will make them be on friendlier terms and make them able to move past this whole thing and problem Geno created.

Geno throws the door open only to see one of the knights across the hall. A lion mask.

Horror it seems.

Horror just looks at him. Right in the eye. Red eye light glowing with discontent "Is something wrong?"

Geno stands frozen. Right. No free movement anymore. It is okay! He just needs to get a tiny moment to make a break to the right spot! think!

"I euh... wanted to... go for a walk." there! easy! He will go for a walk. and just happen across the stables and get the idea for a horse ride and he is golden.

Hroror nods "Inner courtyard is nice. We will go there." he he waits as he pointedly looks in one direction.

Geno grins easily "It is fine. I know the way."

Horror just continues to stare him down as he waits.

Geno pouts but starts walking. may as well go through with it and go for his stupid walk.

Horror follows him as a silent giant.

Geno is once again reminded of the fact that it used to feel so much more comfortable before. Even when Reaper and him visited for the first time. It had felt more welcoming. Sure they were watched but it was being watched over.

Now ever single movement that he does it watched and monitorred. Even those cats seem to stalk him even more before rushing off as soon as he takes another step closer. That was another thing he had been curious about but now he is terrified of even asking what the deal with the cats is.

He moves through the castle and it feels cold. but they get to the gardena dn geno actually relaxes a bit. it is good to be outside. He grins at Horror "The garden is beautiful."

Horror just continues to stare at him. like a stone wall. Right... minimal contact wiht the knights now.

This is so annoying. Geno almost wishes Killer was here. Killer used to be his go to when ti came to Dust as Killer was always happy to talk about Dust and hype him up. Obviously Killer had been trying to help Dust or them by setting them up.

At least Killer had been useful and made it able for geno to actually get anything. Instead he got stuck with Horror who didn't say a word beyond what was needed and so useless to him-

Fucking hell he is doing it again!

Geno finsihes his walk through the garden and mutters about being done. Horror doesn't say a word, he doesn't even emote anything towards him. But he walks him back to his room. Geno goes inside and the door closes behind him.

He groans as he just walks over to the bed and lets himself fall in it face first.

Maybe it is better that he didn't get to him... Geno had after all once again been planning on manupilate the situation in his favour. to once again use things the other liked to get what Geno wanted.

Why can't he just look at relationships like a normal monster?! Why can't...

He knew it wasn't fine fine. Once he realised how he felt and what he was doing. But he figured it wasn't that bad. After all. Dust liked him... he now also liked Dust. and Reaper always adored him.

All Geno had to do was slowly nudge the relationship into more... actual relationships things. instead of just Geno teasing and pushing the right buttons to get his answers.

Geno figured he could have just shifted the focus! Instead of just the magic it was about being near Dust. He just... stuck to the topic magic because that is something Geno knew. it was a safe area. Geno knows his magic and Dust knows things too. it was something they could ahve bonded over!

aparently not because Geno messed up. Or maybe Dust had always known what Geno had been doing... and let it go on because of who Geno was.

Because as Reaper had pointed out. Geno didn't offer him an out. Geno had just assumed Dust would tell him to stop. When Geno was a royal mage.

Not even just that. the royal mage and mate of the very king of a country that Dust's own king had a treaty with. A very strong treaty and multiple trade routes that were helping this very country.

Why the fuck did Geno think Dust would just say no or tell him to fuck off if Geno pushed too far.

Even when he pushed too far all dust did was distance himself. He didn't evne tell anyone.

If Geno hadn't told Error about it no one would have known... That Geno pretty much kept harrassing Dust to get answers to pushier and pushier questions.

Would he even have said no? If Geno tried to progress the relationship that had been growing? If Geno had kept searching him out and tried to actually do the relationship parts....

Geno doesn't like thinking about it.

Geno groans as he covers his face "This sucks..."

This is what he deserves isn't it? For treating others this way. for not being honest.

Reaper told him as much. That if they get the chance to even speak to Dsut again that Geno needs to be honest. He had stressed it and that Geno had to think about it if he can do that. Dust deserves gEno being honest about what he had been doing.

But Geno can't do that! He doesn't just. Do honest and vulnerable.

The only people he could do that with were his brothers and Reaper.

Adn the only reason he managed that with Reaper is because Error had gone missing and he just hadn't been able to keep up the mask!

Reaper is different. reaper didn't use his moment of weakness and vulnerability to hurt him. To get what he wanted from him.

The very things Geno does to others...

He had wanted to look... cool and controlled. capable. And he always did this to show up like that. He did it with Reaper and Reaper had been fine with it.

Whcih Geno had pointed out to Reaper. And Reaper had just looked so sad as he held his hand. he had explained that they had a more equal relationship. Reaper is a king. He is the ruler. If Geno messed up he would have been pushed back and no one would look at Reaper with any less respect because people would sooner see it was Geno trying to just having a crush and Reaper respectfully putting a stop to it.

They don't have this grace area with Dust. Dust may have been intrested before. And fuck it had hurt to hear that in the past tense. But Dust never made a move. he never was anything but respectful and silent. He had been trying to keep it professional. They both moved to start something with him.

And Dust saying no could have had consequences. Geno felt even worse because Reaper would never. Reaper would never use his power or title like that. But too much had been counting on keeping them happy and Dust just... didn't stop any of it.

Geno groans as he covers his face. It doens't matter now. It doens't matter he had been planning on easing Dust into seeing Geno being more open or vulnerable. Only after they spend time together. After they started something. Geno had wanted him to see him in a certain way...

Well it doenst matter now. Dust figured out who Geno actually was.

And Dust hated him.

Geno groans as he looks at his bag.

He really shouldn't... But it isn't breaking any rules...

He goes towards his bag and searches it. Geno smiles as he finds a small crystal ball.

He pulls it out and rolls up in the bed. Blanket encasing him and the little tool.

He needs to concentrate his magic and really focus. It isn't a hard spell but it just isn't his best.

Dust's magic had been so wild... Wilder than Error's ever was. Dust's magic reacted completely to his wishes and emotions and he hadn't been able to do actual spell work. It had fascinated him so much...

Geno had just... wanted to know how it worked. What could have happened to cause his magic to work on such a fundamental different way. Was it just no schooling? but then how is his magic as strong as it was? Four magical dampers to stop it? That is insane!

The crystal ball finally glows and Geno grins as he concentrates. He doens't want the past or future. just the present. Please.. please show him.

The crystal ball needs a moment but the spell and tool work together well and he can suddenly see the stables and ranch. He sees about twenty horses easily. All relaxing and walking around. Dust is with only one horse. apart form the others in another pen.

The horse his huffing and keeps standing on its backlegs. Dust is calm as he just. makes weird movements and keeps stepping closer before backing off again. The whole time. It is mesmorising to watch. Geno has no idea what the other is doing but doesn't feel it is a good idea to let Dust be alone with an aggressive horse.

What about his shoulder? Geno knows he never truly recovered from that injury...

Just another point where Geno knows one of his weaknesses that he could have easily exploided if Dust denied him. Hell he even used it as he stayed on that side to lean into his space and area.

Dust seems to be confident however. Moving slowly before making another unusual movement.

Eventually the horse seems to just be watching him. less likely to get aggressive. The horse actually goes clsoer to dust and Dust starts to lead the horse.

Geno notices that the horse doesn't have any of the normal rider things. No saddle or reins or anything. Just dust and the horse.

Dust starts to lead the horse through the pen. slow movement and walking first before dust starts to speed up. The horse follows the set tempo and seems to pick up speed. The horse is now galloping around the pen with Dust sprinting to keep up before Dust just sets off and jumps on the back of the horse. The horse stands on his back legs but Dust manages to stay on and calm it again.

then Dust just nudges the horse with just his body to get it moving again.

How the hell did he do that? How... how?

Geno knows dust works with horses through killer. and geno assumed he liked horses...but this? this is insane!

Geno keeps watching him just do his thing.

He isn't sure how to fix this... How to make things right...

Geno just hopes that Reaper can fix this. That he can at least make things right with Dust...

Geno just doesn't want Dust to hate him anymore.

[flightfoot]

Could you recommend fics where Marinette quits being Ladybug?

Sure!

---

final girl by picayunewrites

Marinette has ninety-nine problems, and the superhero trio of Paris counts for a hundred. [AU where Marinette follows through on giving up her earrings after Stoneheart, but becomes the Guardian to protect her replacement.]

This is just great. Marinette thinks she failed, but the other heroes wouldn’t agree. And eventually, she gains some confidence in herself as well.

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After a few turbulent days where four new people discover her secret identity, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep the secret hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, but she still can't let those worries go. Especially not once Monarch starts taking a particular, and personal, interest in her.

Along the way, she also starts to date Kagami, and has to deal with changing feelings about herself, Adrien, Alya, Kagami, and the idea of being Ladybug. At the same time, Alya works to uncover Monarch's secret identity, while Kagami struggles against a controlling parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement.

Fantastic Marigami fic here! You’ve got three major POVs in this fic: Marinette, Kagami, and to my delight, Alya. I loved getting to see Alya cope with taking over as Scarabella especially.

But of course, this fic centers more around Marinette and Kagami, with Marinette struggling with Monarch targeting her, and Kagami struggling against her abusive parent, as well as both of them trying to navigate their relationship together when they know that not everyone will approve. 

There’s also some other plots going on in here, like Sabrina breaking away from Chloe and becoming more independent (and closer to Adrien in fact), as well as a Lila takedown plot, though thankfully not one that involves demonizing other characters. While there are conversations about people believing Lila and siding with her, no one’s actually attacked for it except for Lila herself.

Oh yeah, and while this fic may not have much focus on Adrien, he’s still treated fairly and with respect, even when he messes up. He can make mistakes, but people understand where he’s coming from, and are still kind to him and want things to be okay, and to help him escape his abusive circumstances.

---

do you think I have forgotten about you? by @roseinaugust

Based on the song ‘About You’ by The 1975. Memory Loss. Told in alternating time lines, one leading up to and one dealing with the aftermath of Marinette relinquishing the Miracle Box and the guardianship. Marinette struggles with her life after losing her memory, though there is a persistent voice that calls to her that always seems just out of reach in her memory.

Beautiful memory loss fic here, with seeing Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s relationship before she gave up the Miracle box, juxtaposed with the present day, when Adrien is only a stranger to her. I could really feel how Marinette was struggling with navigating these new circumstances, with her friends seeming to expect her to remember, to be who she was to them, to Adrien especially, before, and her just… not knowing whether she can do that. It’s got a happy ending though, for those who are concerned about that.

---

Our Tales Are Endless (That’s Why I Tell Them) by @joonapeach

Marinette lives a simple life - one surrounded by pretty dresses, fresh macaroons, and the calming view of Paris. It’s a life she thinks she has always fit in. And yet sometimes, when a certain boy comes by her shop with a flower and a new adventurous story, she can’t help but wonder if there’s something else she’s missing.

This was a truly gorgeous story. It’s the classic “Marinette gives up the Miracle Box and loses her memories” storyline, exploring her life two years later. Even though she’s had time to heal and recover, she still feels like she’s missing something, something big. At least Adrien’s stopping by regularly to tell her stories about Ladybug and Chat Noir, even if she doesn’t understand why they resonate with her so well.

[mutfruit-salad]

Hi! I just wanted to thank you so much for your critique of the new Fallout show. You really summed up a lot of my issues with it, especially trashing the potential lead-up to the NCR collapsing in on itself by repeating the corrupt imperialist capitalist "democracy" of the pre-War US... and instead replacing it with "Vault dude blows up Shady Sands because his wife left him."

I've been trying to think of what the franchise is going to be like moving forward... do you think this is an unfortunate bump on the road, or a more worrying signal of where Fallout is inevitably heading more permanently?

I think in a lot of ways this series is carrying on elements introduced as far back as Fallout 3. While the show draws heavily on the look and feel of Fallout 4 (with a smattering of the classics in weapon and prop design) the show is most aligned story-wise with Starfield and Fallout 76.

I haven't talked much about 76 on my blog, but a lot of the overt authoritarianism in the show is very reminiscent of the portrayal of the factions in 76- namely the Brotherhood, Enclave, and the Vault 76ers.

The Vault Tec plot in the show is also, seemingly, linked directly with the Vault 76 plotline as well- with Vault Tec in that game issuing secret commands to seize missile silos and jumpstart a postwar economy so they could take control in the aftermath of the war.

The portrayal of Vault Tec as a secretive society running the government is also directly in-line with how the Enclave is portrayed in 76- representing them as a conspiracy theory style deepstate with all the baggage that comes with that.

I haven't talked at all about Starfield on this blog either. It's a lot to get into- but I see a lot of Starfield's faction and character writing in the way the fallout show is written.

All told- I don't really think it's a unique point of stumbling. I think it's the unfortunate continued downward spiral of the series as a whole. And it's sad to say that.

[onwhatcaptain]

It's been ages since I posted a snippet from my K/S novel, so I'm back with one from Chapter 15!

“Well, I haven’t even asked you anything yet, Doctor.” He snorts. “And for your sake, you probably shouldn’t.” They make a small expression of sympathy that he’s getting far too used to seeing and they walk in silence for a few moments. “I understand you’re going through a lot right now, but I have a responsibility to at least try and ask you questions, Doctor.” “And why’s that?” “Because this story deserves to be reported fairly and accurately, and your perspective on the matter is missing. I think you might have some valuable insight and I just want to understand. To shed light on the matter.” “And what exactly needs my input?” “Doctor McCoy,” they ask, “were Commander Spock and Captain Kirk merely colleagues and friends? Or was there something more?” McCoy stops in his tracks without turning to face them, nearly tripping on the gravel lining the path. “What?”

If you are curious, my fic "I Shall Do Neither" is here at AO3.

I Shall Do Neither (87406 words) by onwhatcaptain Chapters: 16/26 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Heavy Angst, Loss of Control, Psychological Trauma, Mutual Pining, Five Year Mission (Star Trek), Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Post-Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Pon Farr, Pon Farr Aftermath (Star Trek), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Friendship, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, Vulcan Biology, Tarsus IV (Star Trek), Vulcan Mind Melds, Non-Linear Narrative, Storytelling Through Vignettes, Missing Scenes Between Episodes, Plot, Cover Art, Canon Divergence, Digital Art, Illustrations, In spite of the description Kirk features heavily in this novel Summary: In the wake of the kal-if-fee on Vulcan, Kirk is dead. When T’Pau tells Spock to live long and prosper, he knows he shall do neither. This is a story about men who love each other, and the lengths they will go to for one another. - Foolish, he thinks. I have been a fool. How he had wanted so desperately to prove his Vulcan side. How all his life it had felt like a performance, and yet, to be finally subject to the most Vulcan thing of all destroyed him. The stripping of logic. All sense torn from him. His carefully constructed barriers had collapsed like a flimsy house of cards. To be granted his wish this way was a type of mockery. How he had wanted to be fully Vulcan. To prove that the blood which runs through his veins was not so human. How wanting had been better than having. - This story is told in two parts across 25 chapters, and will be updated on Sundays.

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 19 is now available on AO3.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 19 chapters completed: 718.8K Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

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Here are two emotionally angsty snippets from Chapter 19 of a conversation Buck has with Margaret and Phillip and a separate one Eddie has with Helena and Ramon. 👀

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Buck

Buck can tell Margaret’s on the verge of losing it and in a matter of moments, he’s sure he’ll see the remnants of her becoming completely unglued.

In true Phillip fashion, he tries to prevent it from happening when he says, “Yes Evan, please answer your mother.  How do you even know who he is because we never told you about him?”

Buck’s not surprised by his actions at all especially since he witnessed their dynamic the entire time he was growing up in Hershey.

“I know you didn’t but I found him anyway.  I have two dads and he’s one of them!”  He says a little louder than he intends to but he really doesn’t give a rat’s ass if they’re offended by it or not because it had to be said.

How will Buck's conversation with Margaret and Phillip end? 👀

~~~

Eddie

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief but he remains determined to speak his piece.  “Mom, I’m sorry you feel that way and I want you to know that I didn’t want this.  Based on your response, it seems like you believe it is but who wants to go “no contact” with their mother?  Certainly not me and I don’t believe Soph and Adri do either but you’ve left me no choice.  I’m hoping it’ll be temporary but I’ve said what I’m about to say so many times that I sound like a broken record to myself.”

He pauses when he hears her gasp.

After a few seconds he admits, “You don’t listen to me; you disregard everything I say because everything either has to be your way or the highway but unfortunately for you… my life is not yours to control.  I’m a 34-year-old adult man with a 13-year-old son and a fiancé.  Buck and I are getting married but you did nothing but dismiss and disrespect him while you were here.  You treated Chris like he was a baby and I’ve repeatedly reminded you that he’s not 7 years old anymore.”

“You should be trying to find Christopher a mother.”  Helena snaps back.

“Mom!  Whether you believe it or not my son has two dads!  Me and Buck!”

How will Eddie's conversation with Helena and Ramon end? 👀

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - Will be posted soon.

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Read chapters 1-19 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[pix-writes]

Gravity falls AU idea I've had

Bill cipher is just some (charismatic, psychopathic) guy, except! He runs a cult at the time that Ford is deep in his research in gravity falls.

I'm calling it the Ciphertology AU (if someone comes up with something better I'm all ears tho)

Rest of it under cut (mentions tbob and same level of dark content as is in the book/website, just as warning) ⚠️

So, the university contacts Ford to ask him to investigate the psychic claims that this group deep in the forest, not too far from the falls, has. Ford grumbles that he isn't much of a people person to carry out such research but he's the one nearest to the area and they've agreed to send over Fiddleford, since they're friends and as his assistant he can act as an objective observer (since he didn't study parapsychology) and it pays well.

They both inadvertently get sucked into bill's cult in different ways! Ford is drawn in by his seemingly high intelligence and helpful nature, assured within himself that he wouldn't be fooled by fraudsters or fakes due to his background/intelligence, ends up treating Bill reverently (his 'muse' and one he trusts, because it fills the loneliness he feels, especially because before he began interviewing ciphers group, he felt guilt for not contacting his brother) before coming to a fast and cruel awakening that he's not who he says he is! Bill isolates him from his parents and tries to make him believe he's the only one who understands him, he obstructs his work being sent to the university too.

Meanwhile, poor Fidds had been pulled into addiction from the cultish hippie use of drugs in the group, but ended up slipping into mental health issues and realising that his friend is being manipulated and leaves. tries to persuade Ford to leave, trying to convince him that bill's evil but it doesn't go well ofc and he leaves and tries to set up a counter protest with a load of other people in gravity falls to get rid of the cult, which ends up kicking him out when he has a mental breakdown. By this time the FBI is alerted and they have the cult on their watchlist.

Ford is tortured, similar to how he is described to in tbob and journal 3 (except probably without the possession side of it, haven't decided if that's something he'd be able to do/is real in this au) and he's kept at the isolated cult camp against his will. But he does manage to get hold of a phone and call his brother. Stanley to the rescue! He isn't told fully just how bad it is but sensing bullshit, he high tails up to the falls as fast as possible ❤️

Stan is horrified by the way Ford's been treated and angry that he's still making excuses for the group (poor ford is so sleep deprived so the coercive control is going to take a little while to be unconditioned from) and quickly manages to get him out of there!

Takes a while, and not many people believe the stan twins story, but eventually Bill is caught for other crimes and is sent to a max security psychiatric hospital (basically a prison). (Stan and Ford in the aftermath keep close eyes on the cult from a distance to try and get justice.)

They end up forgiving each other and settling their home base in the falls, since now the rest of the town either hates bill or wants to forget he existed. Stan sets up his own tourist business in the falls whilst ford heals and eventually he ends up working as a lecturer and travels about to a few different colleges in the area for work. After the trial where Cipher is put behind bars decades later, the stans make their childhood dream happen and go sailing around the world for 2-3 years!

Oh, and Ford ends up reconnecting with Fidds, as after some time his son Tate tracks him down and gets him to a place where he can recover and be treated for his mental health. Their contact helps them both get through the trial because now they can finally talk to someone else who experienced the cult. Maybe they even contacted some others who were also drawn into the cult who were victims?

Dipper and Mabel come for the summer like in the show, except now they know of their two eccentric grunkles, though the whole cult story is kept from them for a while (they end up finding out somehow).

...And that's as far as I've got with this idea! I think there might be room for Bill to escape and the pines family coming across him during a future summer? Like maybe because of Ford's involvement with the cult he still has possession of some of Ford's journals/information after he escapes/is set free? Idk. What do you think?