#I had never done enough damage to myself then for any of it to be permanent

[ghostickle]

.

[drdemonprince]

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT SCENES(nun too serious)!!! HEAVY breeding kink(i couldn’t help myself), Wife!reader, pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Lewis being a hornball, some fluff here and there,SHORT! UNEDITED FOR RN! I think that’s it!

SUMMARY: After having twin boys, Lewis begs his beloved wife for one more baby, hoping this time it’d be a girl.

|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

“You said one more, right? Just one more”

He smirks as he bounces you his arms, your body helplessly following with the flow as you couldn’t do anything with your legs folded how they were anyhow.

“One more” You whimper with a nod of your head, your brain not even coming close to calculating what you had gotten yourself into.

“One more, baby” He confirms with an innocent tone like he wasn’t currently folding his wife like a lawn chair, running the risk of waking your twins up even though they were down the hall.

Days passed and you couldn’t get his hands off of you, the man giving not one moment to allow you to collect yourself after a simple agreement that you’d stop taking your birth control. At the time you hadn’t even stopped yet, but he was still prevalent with his ‘you never know’, hoping somehow you’d still get pregnant.

You’d get home from work and before you were able to take your heels off he’d be warning you that the kids were asleep now so you’d have to keep it down and only asked about your day in between kisses and ripping off your shirt, the answers being halted as soon as you were bent over the arm of your couch and fucked from behind by your eager husband, the grip he had on your hips enough to bruise.

It was clear that Lewis wanted nothing more than a daughter. Of course he loved his two hard headed boys, but a daughter? She was a dream he’s had for a while now. He felt he needed a girl to soften him up after raising two little boys for five years, and he was determined to get one out of you. Lewis was ready to be surrounded by princesses, glitter, pink and hair bows.

For the last few weeks he spent time getting you alone so he could fill you to the brim, taking you down anywhere that had a lock on the door or a surface to lay you on, sometimes not even that. The first time was in the laundry room when you were drying clothes, a month after you told him yes to a baby, a day after he was 100% sure you stopped taking your pills. Closing the door behind him and setting a basket in front of the door to avoid any unwanted little guests, your husband casually pulls up your sundress as you were loading the dryer and slides your panties to the side, the man on his knees with his tongue on your clit before you could even tell him you were busy.

The next time he took you down was in his personal gym, him just finishing a workout and you in the middle of your much needed yoga to stretch your sore muscles from the damage he had done the other night. Catching you in a downward doggy position, you felt his fingers shamelessly run between your lips that were covered by your favorite gym shorts, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit almost making your knees buckle. You slowly look up from your position, making eye contact with him in the mirror in front of you.

“May I help you, Mr. Hamilton?” You ask.

“You already know what I want, Mrs. Hamilton” He responds back in a sing-song tone and before you knew it you were getting creamed on a workout bench, Lewis using his fingers to stuff what had spilled when he pulled out back inside of your pussy. You sat there tired and absolutely bewildered with how feral your husband could get sometimes. Last time he was on ten like this you two scored twins, and you could only pray the twins that run in your family wouldn’t catch up to you again.

The next day you thought you were free of the teenage boy-ish sex drive your husband had. The twins were home and using the living room as their personal playroom though they had their own, and you took that as an excuse to distract them with toys as you read your favorite book in the kitchen where you could see them. Unluckily for you, the ADHD they inherited gave them the ability to not exactly not focus, but focus a little too much. Lewis had turned on their favorite show and made sure the volume was three notches higher than what it was supposed to be before sneaking into the kitchen with you.

You could feel he was up to something as you side eyed him from the sitting nook, but surprisingly he walked right by you, your eyes following him all the way to your home office. He knew you hated him in there.

You slam down you book after marking your page and follow after him, only to realize you had been duped when you heard the door close and lock behind you. You were starting to almost regret telling him your ovulation cycle.

✮✮✮✮

When you two got the news that it was twins, you were both in shock, Lewis a bit more over the moon than you of course because who wants to incubate twins for the second time around, but you both were happy nonetheless. The real kicker was finding out that one of them was a boy, and the other unknown.

“What do you mean you can’t see it? Is there something wrong?” You asked nervously and Lewis squeezes your hand, already knowing how your nerves were.

“Well, not really. The problem is that twin A is still blocking twin B. This is your last few weeks and it’s a bit camped in there now, so they’re kinda just laying in an uncomfortable position. Even if I were to do a vaginal ultrasound, it’d be pretty hard to tell” Your doctor chuckles, making you sigh in relief and look at Lewis, his face unreadable.

When you two left the building and went home, you could tell Lewis was a bit disappointed.

“You okay?” You ask, holding the hand he had placed on your thigh as he watched TV. He nods and gives you a small smile, his eyes not moving from the screen.

“You know I wanted a girl, but obviously god has other plans. It’s okay, really”

You hum. “…Look on the bright side, baby B might be a girl” You smile back, your husband laughing and shaking his head.

“Let’s be real! It’s gonna be two boys again”

“You don’t know that”

“I do. And it’s okay…We’ll always have another time to try for a girl” He smiles wider, looking to you.

You blink for a moment, realizing he was serious. “…Another time?! You are out of your mind!” You hit his arm and he groans, begging you in the mist of your refusals.

“Absolutely not, Lewis! You said just one more months ago and that one more turned into two!”

“So you wouldn’t want to try again if they’re both boys? Really?”

“Lewis, if this one is a boy, I might move out. That’s your answer!” Lewis bursts into laughter as your hand moves to your round belly, feeling a kick hit right below your belly button.

“And one of them is beating on me right now! I can’t live in a house with five boys, I can’t even believe I let three of them plus an alleged one stay inside me”

“Well…Four plus an alleged one. One of them was just on and off..In and out” You gasp at his dirty joke and shove him again, more laughs erupting from him.

✮✮✮✮

💌:i’ll probably make another part to this just cause Dad!Lewis is superior and maybe write an actual smut too idk yet

[richarlotte]

something on your mind?

Time to talk about love.

My friends, my good friends who are in Chicago, D.C., Montreal, Philly, and New York and who are in amazing relationships, share one thing: they focused on bettering their lives and themselves, and good men fit into the picture they were focused on painting. There was no “I’m going to find a good man and do the work later,” and there were no excuses made as to why they were neglecting themselves in favor of finding someone to take care of them; there were many distinct efforts made to better themselves, and when the right people came along, things fell into place naturally on both sides and progressed smoothly.

 

There’s a lot of focus on whether someone will fit into your life on Tumblr, but not a lot of talk about what’s going on on the other side. If you’re unhealed, uneducated, emotionally unstable, and unfit for a relationship, do you really think that you’ll find someone who’ll want to stay with you and do the healing for you? I say this not to be unkind but to be realistic. In order to form a strong, long-lasting relationship with someone, you have to be healthy and ready to deal with the conflicts and disappointments that occur in anyone’s life. If you have never had to deal with the things that can arise in any romantic relationship and you’re not mentally prepared to in the first place, you’ll find that it’ll be harder for you to keep things together and remain stable when life feels hard.

 

I have been in relationships before—healthy relationships—and I have thrived in them. But I’m also a person with trauma, and I know how that trauma presents itself and I know my triggers. It took me plenty of therapy, lots of listening to myself and acknowledging my feelings, and tons of breakups before I recognized both what I needed and what I was subconsciously seeking out. All of my friends who have made their longterm relationships last know what they’re looking for, know what they need, and know themselves well enough to walk away before things end on bad terms. Self-work must be done if you want to truly thrive in life, and you must have the ability to reflect on the things you could have done better.

 

Myself and the people I’ve known who’ve gone from struggling to thriving in relationships all share one common denominator: we’ve done the hard work associated with success, and we’re all willing to continue doing the work needed to get what we want. It’s incredibly hard and very damaging to one’s psyche to go through life with a clear image of what you want in your mind but a lack of awareness that limits you from getting what you want. It’s important to understand that you can overcome the obstacles in your own path and you can also overcome being an obstacle yourself. There are effective ways to heal, books you can immerse yourself in, therapists you can see, and things you can do to build yourself up so that you can thrive and feel more confident in your love life.

TL;DR:

You have to be willing to do the inner work before you seek out a romantic partner. A relationship won’t repair you if you feel broken; only you can heal yourself and fix your trauma. It’s an important part of finding yourself and finding a love that lasts and feels healthy.

[the-second-hand-unwinds]

1x04: "just kind of an asshole and a bad friend" - this scene, though!!

I don't see this scene discussed all that much, but for me it's a massive turning point, not just in the Lokius friendship but for Loki's own growth as a person who doesn't want to let down the people he respects and cares about. Mobius completely blows Loki's mind here and cuts him down with a graceful, yet blunt skill. He can almost read Loki's mind; no one has ever understood Loki like this before. But more importantly, why Mobius' reply here means so much:

He's not raising his voice. He's not giving Loki the angry and hurtful response that Loki expects and wants right now. That's because if Mobius hurts Loki back, if he retaliates in kind, it will distract Loki from the fact that he was a dick to the first real friend he ever had. It will make it much easier for Loki to lie to himself and excuse his actions, while avoiding any guilty feelings. Mobius is not going to give him that.

Mobius also refuses to play along with Loki's bratty drama, instead speaking to him in an honest way, showing that yeah, Loki did let him down and hurt his feelings. And that Mobius is angry, sure. But it's not a moment for petty, fake drama such as Loki tries to ignite.

Instead, it's his friend saying "I trusted you and put myself on the line for you and you betrayed me. You don't get to make this about anything else." (more below the break)

Owen Wilson's delivery on these lines could not have been more flawless. We get all of Mobius' feelings; he's just a regular guy at the end of the day, and his genuineness, his integrity is not what Loki is used to dealing with. He's knocked the ground out from under Loki, this simply, this easily.

Emotional stakes instead of shallow, selfish ones. Loki is thrown into real shock by this turn of events. This is not how he's used to being dealt with when he's been "bad." The child in Loki never matured past these tantrums, for reasons we can easily guess.

Instead of being enraged or saying a bunch of mean stuff back at him, Mobius calls it like it is, then moves on, as if Loki no longer deserves his attention. That is going to drive Loki so crazy.

Plus, Mobius gets Loki so completely that he already knows how his statement is going to hit him. That's why, when Loki's surprised expression appears, Mobius is expecting it and says, "Yeah, chew on that for a little bit."

In other words, "How do you like being treated like a person who is expected to be decent and considerate, as opposed to being treated like a threat or problem to be destroyed?"

I think the latter was damaging to Loki at first, but then, over time, so much easier for Loki to cope with. Enemies were playing into his hands by repeating back the same insults he's gotten used to, has toughened up to.

Nobody has believed in him and expected - not just demanded - but expected better from Loki, until Mobius.

Knowing that he almost immediately tarnished such a friendship hits completely different and Loki is thrown by it.

Mobius sees Loki 100% for who he is and knows how to get under his skin when necessary, knows how to get past Loki's bravado in a way no one else has done.

But part of that skill is because Mobius really still can't help loving Loki to bits, and as hurt as he is here, he has not completely given up on Loki. It's Mobius' genuine, heartfelt responses to Loki that allow him the empathy to give as good as he gets, but more than that, to care enough, specifically, to try and help Loki learn to be better.

I just love them so much-- 😭💓💞

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales IIII

Summary: Princess!Reader tries to convince her mates to leave the Empire, but they have other ideas.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Slavery/Abuse

Part 1, 2, 3

-----------------

Anise is right; I do look like shit. No attempt at washing my face or fixing my hair or changing my clothes changes the sickly color that remains on my skin from the time spent with my head in the toilet. Secluding myself in the house these last couple months have already sapped the color from my cheeks, but today’s events have not helped bring any life back into my features. The dull, lifeless gray of my eyes, the limpness of my hair, the way my dress hangs limp off me… I do not recognize the face in the mirror.

“Anise?” She’s still pacing in my chambers, biting on her weathered thumbnail. Her anxiety makes the vines sprouting from her head grow, leaves and tiny, yellow flowers blossoming as the thick strands slither down her waist. 

“You shouldn’t see them alone,” she persists.

I brush a strand of hair over my yellowing cheek, then push it back behind my ear. I can explain away a bruise. Besides, it is not as if I can expect them to care enough about me to ask how it got there.

I sigh as I push the hair back in front of my face. I do not want to appear weak and frail, not in front of my mates. Not in front of anybody. I need to remain strong.

“Anise,” I try again, turning away from the mirror. There is nothing I can do to change it now, the damage is done and it’s too late in the evening to call for one of my lady’s-in-waiting to come help me fix it. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Get the guard? Yes, a splendid idea!”

I snag her arm as she goes for the door. “No, Anise.”

She huffs her irritation. “You’re being foolish, Little One.”

Probably; she won’t hear that from me though. “I need you to look into something for me and I need you not to tell a soul about it.”

She goes still at that, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to see if there is passage out of the Empire and into the Wastes through the sea.”

Her bark-like features twist in surprise as I continue. “I need a passage my Father doesn’t know about, and I need it quickly.”

“What have you done?” She whispers. 

“Nothing. Not yet anyway.”

Anise fights her way out of my grip so she can take my face in her hands. “Now you listen to me, child! I have already lost your Mother, do not ask me to sit here and lose you too.”

“It’s not for me.”

Her eyes flick to the door and back. “Them?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“They’re dead men if I don’t,” I say, hoping the heaviness in my voice is enough to keep her from pressing further. I do not have it in me to admit what they are after what I’ve done, not even to her. Her loyalty was always to my Mother first, and I trust her more than anyone, but there are some secrets best kept close to the vest. Maybe she’d never tell anyone, but her mouth wanders sometimes, and if it were to slip… any number of the staff would sell me out to my Father in a heartbeat. I have to be careful. This is all I can tell her for now.

“I don’t like this,” she whispers. “You are entering a dangerous game. If your Father finds out…”

“Don’t let him find out,” I counter, pulling free of her grip. If I linger any longer, I will lose my nerve. I need to see them now.

My hands shake as I open the door. Moonlight spills into the hallway from the high, open windows on either side of me. I’d kept the heavy, silk curtains pushed against the far walls closed for months and months, refusing to accept that time was moving on without me. Anise had opened them this morning, when I’d announced I was finally ready to go out again. She’d hoped the fresh air would be good for me, truth be told, so had I. I didn’t expect so much to change in such a short time frame. 

There are guards on patrol outside the windows. A couple torches had been lit along the path through the gardens, bathing their armored heads and ridiculously large horse hair plumes in an orange glow. As a kid, I’d thought they were monsters when I’d see them in this light, stalking through the palace grounds; maybe I hadn’t been so far off.

Anise trails after me. “I will do it, but you will let me accompany you for this first.”

“No.” I should head out the side door and follow the footpath to the guest house, but I make a show of walking towards the kitchen instead. There is a servant’s passage through the cellar that will keep me out of sight. As far as the guards are concerned, I’m getting a snack in the kitchen with my maid. No one needs to know that I’m meeting the Illyrians. 

“Why are you…” she stops when we come to the kitchen. All the lights are off. The staff asleep earlier than usual so they can, undoubtedly, rise earlier in the morning in order to prepare bigger meals than they’re used to. They have to be in an uproar over the sheer amount of guards they’ll have to feed every day now. The House has not seen much attention in the last couple of months; I certainly wasn’t hosting any parties. 

“Is this a sex thing?”

I am grateful the dark hides the blush working its way up my neck and cheeks. “What!?”

“It’s not like you to sneak around, I’m just wondering if there’s something happening here between you and them?” She is the only other person that knows about the secret passages in the house. Mother had them built as a safety measure against intruders, and promptly found an excuse to execute the architect before he could show Father the plans. There are a number of false doors and hidden hallways throughout the house, a couple of secret exits and a panic room only accessible with a key I keep around my neck at all times. She was as paranoid as my Father, but at least hers had practical applications. And could now serve as a means to move around my house without arousing suspicion. 

“This most definitely is not a sex thing!” I hiss. 

I mean, yes, some sponsors do sleep with their champions. Hels, some sponsors sell their champions for a night of pleasure to the highest bidder. Amarantha and my cousins included. It was an abhorrent practice that I tried not to think about in the past, but the mere suggestion of it has me clenching my fists. Did she truly think I’d stoop to that?

“You’re being strange is all I’m saying,” she returns. 

“I don’t have time for this. If you’re going to insist on hovering, just make it look like we’re in here making a snack, will you?”

“Will you tell me why this is necessary?”

I pry the door that leads down to the cellar open slowly, conscious of how loudly it squeaks and trying to minimize the noise as best I can. “No.”

“Then I’m coming with!”

I slip behind the door and hold it nearly closed as she approaches. “Fine, we’ll talk when I get back. Happy?”

Even in the dark I can see her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Don’t get pregnant.”

“I’m not fucking them!” I hiss as I close the door. She’s impossible! Once she sets her mind on something, she just can’t let it go. At least she doesn’t try to follow me. 

There’s a slim set of stairs that leads down into the cellar lined with fae lights that flicker to life as I descend. Rows of dried meats and herbs hang from the rafters, casting eerie shadows over the shelf lined walls. The cellar is lined with rows of more shelves and barrels of wine, everything cataloged and arranged in alphabetical order. Our steward has always been exceptionally neat, and the concealed door in the backs sits connected to the wall where he keeps all his flour. I will have to remember to sweep the floor upon my return, just in case anything falls from the shelf and gives the door away. 

The door opens by turning one of the panels in the wood in a full circle, disturbing a sack of flour as it swings inward with a groan. The hallway is dark and dusty, a heavy layer of cobwebs disturbed by the door. I haven’t used this tunnel in years. 

I take one of the bobbing fae lights out of its perch on the stairs and carry it with me into the dark, making sure the door closes behind me, just in case any of the guards decide to come do a sweep of the place now that they’ve seen Anise in the kitchen. I can’t be sure of their orders, I have to assume that they will check on everyone in the house if there is the slightest deviation from the routine. Which also means I need to make this quick.

The silence of the tunnel is not good for my nerves, I find myself once again digging my knuckle into the knot in my chest. Without Anise to distract me, I’m once again consumed with the guilt of having to look at them after what I’d done. Not knowing why they’re asking to see me doesn’t help either. 

The tunnel slopes downward, filled with cobwebs and the occasional rat I startle back into holes in the walls. There’s some rain damage along the supports I should really have looked at, but updating these means having to tell someone about them, and that’s not an option. Not unless I wish for Father to find out about it, or worse, be forced into a situation where I have to consider killing an architect after rebuilding it as my Mother had done. There haven’t been any reasons for the tunnels since I was a child, I’ll avoid having to make any decisions on it until I absolutely have to. As long as the roof holds, I can make do.

Mother wanted to ensure that this place had multiple advantages, one of them being strategically placed and concealed vents for both air flow, and espionage. The vent hidden in the garden lets me hear the stomping of boots as the guards pass overhead. Some of them complain about the quiet as they pass each other, but it doesn’t sound like they’re yet suspicious of me moving around the house this late. 

I keep moving, comforted just a little by the fact that I don’t have to worry about dealing with them yet. 

The tunnel curves in a crescent shape to come around the back of the guest house, where there’s a door carefully hidden behind the lararium built for the Mother. The carefully carved statue of our beloved Goddess hides the door, and the altar serves as a deterrent to keep people from looking too close at the seams in the wall. It also hides the vent that lets me hear three, arguing voices, even in hushed tones:

“This is a bad idea, Rhys!” Cassian. 

“It is our only shot,” Rhysand shoots back. 

Their voices are so different: Cassian’s gruff and husky, Rhysand’s smooth and rich. Having them near soothes an anxiousness I didn’t know was inside me, I find myself drawn closer and closer to the door, just for a chance to listen to them speak. I’ve never had something as simple as a voice cause such an intense reaction before. All of this is so new and foreign; it will take some getting used to.

“I don’t care!” Cassian returns, the words sharp as a knife. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

And just like that, my revelry is broken and that pesky knot in my chest returns. It is an effort to get a deep enough breath in, as if someone had sucker punched me right in the stomach. He really does hate me. It was one thing to think it, but it’s another to hear it so openly. I really have ruined this before it even had a chance to begin.

“She is our only chance,” Azriel chimes in, voice a hissed whisper. He sounds agitated, I can picture him pacing in front of the altar. 

“She’s his daughter! Am I the only one bothered by that?” Cassian protests. 

“That’s exactly why we need her,” Rhysand counters. 

Time slows to a crawl. Need me? Hope is a pesky, irritating, thing that I shove down inside me, even as my body moves to press itself against the door, waiting for them to continue. 

“We can’t trust her.”

“Yes we can,” Azriel retorts. 

I wonder if they can hear my heartbeat stuttering through the door--no matter that it’s waded so I can hear them and they can’t hear me, it’s so loud it still feels like a possibility. 

“What, because your shadows can smell that on her?” Cassian sneers. 

“Because I looked in her head,” Rhysand hisses, his voice rising. 

I know that I have a limited amount of time to do this, but I can’t bring myself to open the door, not with a confession like that. What does he mean he looked in my head?

“She’s terrified of him.”

“She could have fooled me. She didn’t look a bit terrified of branding us.”

“Because she didn’t brand us at all!” Rhysand snarls. “I did.”

“You hit your fucking head harder than I thought.”

“Asking for us to be spared threw Hybern off his game. Whatever plans he has for us got derailed because of her. And we need whatever edge we can get right now. When I slipped into her mind, she was panicking, she couldn’t do it and we would have all been fucked. I moved her hands around that iron, I touched it to your skin. Not her. She was so distraught over it I had to hold her upright the whole way back. Trust me, she liked it as much as you did.”

“But the collar…?” Cassian stammers.

“It dims a lot of my powers, but not all of them. I threw what I had out there. It only works when I’m close. Whatever she felt after we separated, whatever she’s doing now, I can’t get a feel.”

Rhysand was that invisible hand on me? I hadn’t just imagined it? How is that even possible? The twins are Daemati, but even they can’t reach into someone’s head and control them like that, especially with the gorsian chains in the way. At least, they’d never shown me they could. I suppose I’d never thought to ask.

“We have to act fast,” Azriel chimes in. “The quicker we get ahead of this, the more time we have to work around Hybern. Until now, he’s always been one step ahead of us. We’ve been playing his games on his terms. She… changes things.”

Does he know that we’re mates? Could that really mean something to him?

“Why are you so quick to trust her?” Cassian challenges. “Let's say what Rhys saw in her head is even real, because let's face it, she very well could be like the twins and been throwing those things up to see if you’d take the bait, but for the sake of the argument, sure they’re real. So what? What do you think she’s going to do here? Throw in her lot with us and help us overthrow her father?”

“Yes,” Rhysand says, as if it’s just that simple.

They can’t really be serious with this, can they?

“What could she possibly get out of it? She’s a spoiled princess who has not had to feel the effects of this Empire a day in her life! The best of this place has been handed to her and you think she’s just going to give that up to a couple of bastards like us?”

I dig my knuckle into my chest again, trying to ease the tension that feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my skin. 

“You don’t get it,” Azriel hisses. 

“Explain it to me, Az!” Cassian shoots back. “Explain to me how the limited interaction we had convinced you that she’s a good person who would help us for the hell of it?”

“You don’t have to trust her, Cass,” Rhysand interjects. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need her.”

I take my lower lip between my teeth. I’m supposed to be saving them; I’m supposed to be getting them as far away from this place as possible and they want me to what? Overthrow my Father? It’s delusional. No one can outmaneuver him. Mother tried and failed. How many rebels has Amarantha executed? How many slaves have been carted from the far reaches, having been defeated for daring to oppose the Empire? Everyone that has ever gone up against him has lost and paid for it with their lives. I can’t let them do this. It’s suicide!

I get my hand on the hidden lock and turn. It’s my responsibility as a mate to save them from themselves. I have to put this foolish notion to bed. By tomorrow, Anise will have an answer about a way out of here. I just need them to stay put for the night and this mess will be over. 

I get the impression they are not males used to being taken by surprise, if the way they stand their gaping at me is any indication. Dark shadows wreath Azriel’s, still bare, shoulders, curling around his ears like they’re living things whispering in his ear. His scarred hands twitch over his hip, as if he’s reaching for a weapon instinctively, despite there being nothing there. 

Rhysand grins wolfishly as he leans a bruised shoulder against the doorframe, violet eyes once again roving over every inch of me. “Aren’t you full of surprises, Princess?”

“What if we had been indecent?” Cassian retorts.

“You’re barely dressed now,” I blurt before I can stop myself, though it is true. He’s stripped down to his boxers, using what was once a white towel, but it’s now brown, to clean up a gash across his thigh. Judging by the color of the bruising and the still forming scab, the wound is from before the arena. He needs to have it cleaned and looked at by a healer. I should be focusing on that. I should not be focusing on how large his thighs are, or imagining what it might feel like to sit in his lap.

Rhysand’s grin broadens like he can hear my thoughts, and then I remember that he can. 

Shit! I need to focus. I need to put my shields up, just like I do when I’m around the twins. Just because they’re my mates, doesn’t mean they’re incapable of using their abilities on me. Who’s to say, if Rhysand really is powerful enough to move me around like a puppet, even with the collar, that he won’t simply reach in and use me as he sees fit if I don’t cooperate. I don’t know anything about them. I have to be careful.

“We can strip down if you’d like?” He purrs.

“Did you make me come all this way just to harass me, or…?” I let the question hang there so I can give myself an extra second to reinforce my mental shields. 

“Sorry to pull you from your ivory tower,” Cassian snarls.

I instinctively take a step away from him, the venom behind each word enough to make me flinch despite myself. Azriel moves away from where he’s been sitting on the edge of the altar, effectively putting himself between us. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then what do you want?” My shields are in place, but I feel my confidence waning. I thought that this would be easy, that the bond would make everything click into place for us. They could trust me and I could trust them and this thing that tethered us together would put us at an even playing field. But it doesn’t. Our goals are off and I don’t know how to get them even, I don’t know how to get them to listen to me. 

“We want your help,” Rhysand says. 

“We need your help,” Azriel corrects.

I should just tell them that I heard them and skip all the repetitiveness, but there is a piece of me that worries I was naive before, and that they will tell me something different to my face. Maybe I’m the only one who feels the bond and they merely see me as something to be manipulated and used. I have to be sure.

“With what?” I ask.

“We want Hybern off the throne,” Rhysand explains. He hasn’t left his perch against the wall; though his gaze lingers on me, he gives me space that feels intentional. As if I’m a rabid dog he thinks might bite if it feels cornered. “We think you do too.”

“And why would you think that?” It is only from years of training that my voice doesn’t shake. How can they be so flippant about this? Saying those words out loud is enough to have their heads removed from their shoulders. The thought that any guard walking past might hear has me shaking, yet they don’t even flinch.

“He scares you,” Azriel says. His voice is already a low whisper, but it softens when he looks at me. A tendril of shadows slithers down his leg and across the floor, tentatively drifting across the pale tiles to come poke around at my ankles.

“He scares everybody and for good reason.” I need to keep my original goal in mind here. I’m here to get them out. They need to see the necessity of it. “Do you know how many people are dead because they underestimated him? No one is safe.”

“That’s why he needs to be stopped,” Rhysand presses.

Cassian folds his broad arms over his tattooed chest, frowning, but he doesn’t jump into the conversation. While Rhysand’s gaze is assessing, Cassian’s is cold, unyielding. He’s made up his mind about me. 

The fact that the others haven’t gives me more hope than I know I should have. They will have to leave anyway. I should hope they haven’t felt the bond, hope that it doesn’t convince them to stay. They need to be far, far away. But there is a small, desperate piece of me that clings to it anyway. 

“He can’t be stopped.” I bite back all the bitterness and rage that threatens to escape out of me and try to keep my tone even, unbothered. 

“You stopped him this afternoon,” Azriel counters as his shadow brushes up my calf like a phantom cat. They feel like a slight brush of breath against my skin, gentle and strange and I might giggle against the sensation if I wasn’t so focused on keeping my composure. 

I don’t kick it off either. A broken, desperate piece of me claws after the attention and blatant need for affection like a lifeline. 

“He listened to you,” Rhysand presses, doubling down when he sees me hesitate. Azriel isn’t wrong, though he’s not, technically right either. Still, he sees an opening and he swoops down like a vulture to take it. “No one else has that kind of influence.”

“It was a fluke,” I retort. “He was surprised. That won’t happen again.”

“It will if you keep surprising him,” Rhysand counters. “He has you, and everyone else, in a quaint little box, but if you deviate from the script he’s written for you, you can maneuver him where you want him.”

My hand goes instinctively to my bruised cheek, right as Azriel’s shadow comes slithering up my shoulder. It lets out a soft huffing sound as it follows my wrist to see what my fingers are doing. The shadow still curled around Azriel’s ear hisses softly, like the two are communicating. Maybe they are, given the way his eyes darken. 

“You cannot fight him.” I pull my hand away from my face a little faster than I mean to, and the shadow curls into my palm, inspecting the indents my fingernails had left earlier.  “You might as well quit while you’re ahead.”

“I wouldn’t call this being ahead,” Cassian huffs, turning his wrist to flash the brand I put there.

“I can find passage out of the Empire for you.” We’re going to run out of time if we keep standing here talking in circles. The guard will get curious eventually. They are bound to wonder why the lights are still on and no one is preparing for bed soon. “I should know by morning when it will be here.”

“If that’s true, why haven’t you taken it?” Cassian challenges.

Azriel takes a tentative step towards me. For someone so large, he’s surprisingly quiet on his feet. “I was terrified of my father too,” he says gently.

I can’t help but look at his hands. Had his father done that to him?

“I thought it was normal, how he treated me. I thought everyone was afraid of their father. I didn’t know any better until I got out. Until I met these two jackasses.”

Rhysand snorts a laugh behind him.

Cassian grumbles out a retort that sounds like it’s in another language. 

Azriel stops when he’s only a few inches away from me. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Sometimes you just need a little help. We can help each other, like you helped us earlier, right?”

I’ve lived around the ass kissing and political games of the palace long enough to know when someone’s trying to work an angle on me, and this isn’t one of those times. He means it. As hard to imagine that someone his size, someone who just took down a Giant and a bunch of Wargs, even with his wings broken, could be scared of anything, I believe him.

The bond warms, just a little. It’s nice, after years of feeling like no one could hear me when I whispered my complaints, to have a kinship with someone. I cling to that little shred of warmth like it’s a roaring fire amidst a blizzard. How long have I begged the Mother for even a shred of solace like this?

Perhaps that makes me weak. Perhaps I am a fool, but I want this. I want them. 

“A lot of good my help did,” it comes out in a whisper, like it’s dragging itself out of my throat. 

“But it does help,” Rhysand interjects. “Being your champions gives us an excuse to be close, and it gets us into places we couldn’t get before. You give us direct access to your father. That’s all we need.”

Azriel reaches out and brushes that loose strand of hair I’d pushed over my cheek behind my ear, scarred fingers brushing over my jaw with a feather light touch that is not unlike the one his shadow gives me. My whole body trembles all the same. 

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promises.

I am entirely unprepared for that kind of promise. I’m supposed to be protecting them, not the other way around, but I’ve been on my own for awhile now, and I can’t help the way my body leans into that faint brush of his hand over my skin. Am I so starved for affection that even this feels like some grand gesture?

“We’re not asking you to do any fighting. You’re not challenging him.” Rhysand assures. “We merely need you to use these brands to your advantage. Drag us around with you. Show off the prize you’ve claimed like anyone else in the Empire would.”

My stomach twists. 

“Play the games the rest of the court plays, and we will do all the rest,” he assures. 

“I don’t understand how that helps you?” 

“For now, we need to observe his habits. There’s a parade tomorrow, right?”

Shit, I’d forgotten about that! 

“Yes.”

“Take us with you,” Rhysand explains. “Lots of people bring their champions out like bodyguards or trophies, right?”

“Or dogs,” Cassian hisses.

I wince. “Yes.”

“We don’t know much about the city. Just act like you’re showing us off so we can get a look around.”

He makes it sound so simple.

“And then what?”

He shrugs as he finally pushes off the wall. Though the touch had been brief, Azriel hasn’t moved out of my space, and seeing that it hasn’t sent me running, Rhysand takes this as a sign that he can move closer too. He’s just barely shorter than Azriel, and despite the fact that I inherited my Mother’s height, I cannot help but feel small next to them. I don’t think I entirely mind though.

 “Leave the strategies to us. The less you know what we’re doing and when, the safer you are. This is a long game, we have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous playing this game with my Father is,” I warn. If anything were to happen to them because I didn’t insist on getting them on that ship in the morning, I’d never forgive myself!

He grins, flecks of starlight glinting in his eyes. He really is the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, even with all the grime and blood on him. Which reminds me, they still haven’t seen the healer. Ember will never let me hear the end of it; I’m surprised she didn’t come with Anise to bust down my door. 

 “Let us do the worrying, Princess.” He’s very confident for someone who had just been thrown into a pit and been forced to fight a bunch of monsters. I hate to admit it, but that confidence worms its way through the bond like a rat chewing through a wall. No matter how hard I try to fight it back, a bit of it hits me anyway. Even without his presence inside my head, I feel safer when he’s near. 

My gaze flicks from him to Azriel for confirmation that this is something they have both agreed on, and he nods reassuringly. 

“You really think you can win?” I ask.

“Darling, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my people,” Rhysand vows. “Whatever it takes to see them free, I will do it.”

So much for me finding a way to get them out of here, they’re pretty determined to stay, influence from the mating bond or not. On one hand, if I do this, I can keep an eye on them; maybe I can find ways to rig another Game, can make sure they have everything they need to survive. On the other hand, this is crazy! We’re talking about taking on Hybern. Take him being my Father out of the question, no one has ever won anything against him, he’s always two steps ahead, always sees the outcome before it happens. 

I take my lower lip between my teeth again. I’m going to need a dark shade of lipstick in the morning to hide all the teeth marks I’ve undoubtedly left in it today. 

“Let’s say I agree, but only on a trial basis,” I begin, trying and failing to organize all my thoughts. The bond pulls me one way and rationale pulls me the other. I cannot find a happy middle ground. “If tomorrow goes poorly, will you get on the boat and leave the Empire behind?”

“Happily,” Cassian huffs.

Rhysand shrugs, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

I have a sinking feeling it’ll be the same answer tomorrow, but I’ll take whatever I can get, as long as it means there’s a shot at keeping them alive.

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[cthonic-bunny]

1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations

Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)

Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.

Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.

Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!

Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.

Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.

Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.

Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.

-D 🖤🕯

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 12)

Masterpost

“Ya, I have questions,” Jason confirmed, trying not to shift awkwardly in his seat. “I read the slideshow but I don’t seem to fit in either liminals or ghosts, and I have some issues that I think would have been mentioned if they were common?”

“Alright, what are they?” Danny asked tilting his head a little. 

“Well, it’s been better since meeting you, and I know increased aggression was one of the thing mentioned but mine isn’t like Damian’s, or even yours I think. We’ve been calling it Pit Madness. I’ve gotten better at managing it but especially when I got back it was really bad. I… killed a ton of people and I still have a lot of bloodlust that no one is comfortable with.”

“That is unusual, especially directed towards humans. Aside from revenge against whoever killed them dead usually don’t care very much about the living,” Danny said curiously, considering Jason. 

“And I do read as- as dead?” Jason asked, he had been worried about that.

“Well you’re obviously not Dead dead,” Danny said rolling his eyes before he reached across the table. “Here, with touch I can figure out a bit more.” He said and Jason hesitated for a moment before resting his hand in Danny’s.

A cool feeling quickly washed up his arm and over his chest like intangible water. Danny tilted his head to the other side, his brows coming together slowly as he gazed into the middle distance and considered what he was feeling. He let out a hiss and some sort of chitter that couldn’t come from a human throat, then clicked his tongue and the cool feeling dissipated, sinking under Jason’s skin and cooling heat he hadn’t been aware of feeling. 

“Okay, ya that’s weird,” Danny admitted and Jason’s heart dropped. “Best I can equate it to is, like a bone that healed wrong,” Danny said thoughtfully. “You did die before?” He asked, Jason nodded mutely. “Okay, I won’t ask why or how. But best I can tell your soul was shoved back into your body and not given time to get settled back in it’s proper position before whatever was done to bind it in place. So you’re alive but with some.. Spiritual nerve and brain damage. Would you be comfortable telling me how you were resurrected?”

“Well, I resurrected myself apparently. I don’t really remember it but apparently about six months after my death I dug myself out of my grave. Before I could get anywhere the League of Shadows found me and dunked me in the Lazarus pit which is this glowing green stuff that heals the dying and kills the healthy. I don’t remember any of it, it was almost a year before I recovered enough to be myself at all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “My guess would be at first you came back as a revenant, which is basically when a ghost possesses their own corpse to get revenge, not truly a living being. But then this Lazarus pit resurrected your body and your soul got stuck in your living body again without being prepared or intending for that to happen. 

“That’s what I’m guessing happened but I can’t be sure, and I’m not a healer so I don’t really know what to do about it. I’m sure my ghost doctor Frostbite would be happy to take a look at you though! Looks like we’ll be making an appointment for you too,” He joked making Jason chuckle nervously. 

“Well that’s.. Totally fucked up,” Jason said and Danny nodded.

“Ya, dying is basically always fucked up, coming back Specifically for revenge and then getting stuck here long after that’s a motivating factor is messy. I mean, for a human that would be fine, but for people like us,” He gestured between the two of them. “Obsessions are everything so that’s hard. You’ve been cultivating more healthy obsessions I know but you’ll never be the same,” Danny said, and Jason nodded.

He knew as much, he could never go back. Not that he hadn’t always had these sorts of thoughts and inclinations. Once of the reasons Bruce had taken on him and Dick was their murderous inclinations needed to be curbed, for Dick it had work, for Jason… Well it was a combination of a lot of things, it wasn’t really Bruce’s fault it had failed. Other than the fact that he’d let the Joker live far longer than he should have, but that was bleeding-heart-Brucie for you. It was funny, to not really be mad at Bruce anymore, understanding there was nothing else he could have done, and still not be able to forgive him.

Danny must have noticed how Jason had gotten lost in his own head because he reached across the table and covered one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own, soft and cool. “You’re doing really well Jason. It’s a messed up situation but I don't think anyone could have handled it better then you are,” Danny said softly.

Jason didn’t believe it but it felt good to hear and it did settle him a little bit. “Thanks Danny, that means a lot,” he said, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before pulling back. 

There was a natural break in conversation as the waitress brought their appetizers, and when she left again Jason didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Danny spoke. “Why don’t I tell you a bit about my doctor? Frostbite can be a lot, as much as it would probably be funny to spring him on you I should probably give you a heads up.”

“Ya, ya that sounds good,” Jason agreed, glad to let Danny do the talking for a bit. And when telling him about Frostbite turned into talking about the Yetis, to talking about the Infinite Realms, to Danny info-dumping about space. Well Jason really doesn’t mind, especially with the way it makes Danny light up. It was good to see him happy.

---------

The food was good but Jason didn’t taste much of it, and aside from going “Oh wow!” When he took his first bite of his food Danny didn’t seem to either. At a certain point Jason realized he was going to have to do some talking or Danny was going to keep talking and wouldn’t eat. So he took over, but he didn’t know much about space so he started talking about literature and poetry and Danny listened raptly and finally ate his food.

It was very nice to have someone listen to him like that, it was sort of funny, it looked like it was as fun for Danny to listen to him talk then it had been the other way. Jason thought about how supporting obsessions was important for ghosts to have their obsessions supported. Reading wasn’t Really his obsession, he didn’t think, but it sure was an interest and it felt really good to get to share with someone new. 

By the end of the dinner Jason has well and truly decided that this was a date. Danny was cute, good, and passionate, and a good listener, Oh and strong as Fuck which was always a turn on for Jason. Speaking of powerful…

“Can I ask you another sort of serious question?” Jason asked after they got their dessert. Danny looked up, mouth full and a little smear of chocolate on his top lip, Jason resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. Danny nodded. “When Damian gave me his little shovel talk he mentioned that you’re going to be a god some day?” He said, tilting his head. Maybe that was a third date sort of conversation but it seemed like it would be important to understanding Danny.

Danny choked a little and swallowed, sighing heavily. “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danny grumbled. “There’s a prophecy apparently, and with how my powers have been progressing even just in the first 2 years since I died, I can already go toe to toe with some Ancients and win so… Ya, I guess it’s probably inevitable, especially since I haven’t stagnated yet. I don’t want to be one really, I didn’t ask for this, but whatever. I probably can’t stop it.” He slumped back in the booth, looking tired. 

Shit Jason shouldn’t have brought that up. “Hey you’ve got time right? That won’t be for a while. Also, what’s an Ancient?” 

“Very old, very powerful spirits. They’re essentially their own pantheon, Ancient is basically just what ghosts call gods.” He said with a shrug.

“Makes sense, I mean gods usually are ancient. Even more reason you don’t have to worry about that right now. I mean you’re far from ancient,” Jason pointed out, earning himself a little smile from Danny. 

“Ya, you’re right,” He agreed and went back to eating his dessert, the conversation moved on to the music they liked.

When the bill came Jason put his card down without letting Danny see what the bill came to and passed it back to the waitress. They lingered in the booth for a while still chatting, unwilling to part ways yet. If Jason didn’t know his family would want Danny home before they went out on patrol he might have suggested they just go to a park and walk for a while. Talk, maybe each take one of his wireless earbuds and take turns picking songs. But he had a feeling Damian really would try to kill Jason if he didn’t get to see Danny home safe. 

Eventually they left, wandering back to Jason’s motorbike and Danny snuggled up to Jason’s back again as they drove back to the manor. The silence was companionable until Jason pulled up, propping the bike up to let Danny get off. He took off his helmet and handed it back to Jason, not letting go immediately when Jason took it so their hands were touching. 

“This was nice, I had fun,” Danny said, blushing a little and looking down.

“It was, we should do it again soon,” Jason agreed, “I’ll text you okay?” 

“You’d better,” Danny teased before walking back towards the manor. 

Damian opened the door for him, shooting Jason a glare before slamming it making him laugh. He was still a child no matter how much he pretended he wasn’t. Jason kicked off on his bike and zoomed off, heading home to get ready for patrol.

Next

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +1.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned, health conditions mentioned (c*ncer, PCOS, endometriosis), infertility, slight verbal ab*se

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

A/N²: I am not a medical doctor. Please, forgive me if my knowledge of any of the mentioned medical conditions is incorrect.

Bad News Pt. 1=> 😢

Walking into the room, my heart was crushed even further. All of the feelings I wish I could explain; I couldn't. Terry and his bags were gone. I hadn't even heard him leave. He didn't even care enough to at least say goodbye. After all these years, I wasn't worth a goodbye. Two seconds just solidified that this relationship wasn't worth any more of my energy.

I couldn't understand it. How did we get here? Had he always been like this? Was I that blind? I guess I was so busy trying to find love that I forgot the most important rule— love wasn't supposed to hurt. Then again, every version of love I've experienced was painful, manipulative, abusive, and damaging. So, maybe I found what I was familiar with. I mean, why else would I be so comfortable putting up with this?

But, what do I do now?

*2 hours later

The room was covered in crumpled and torn pieces of notebook paper. I have tried and tried to write this letter. My hands were stiff, and my head was throbbing. I just wanted him to know how I felt because my mind was already made up. I'm done, and this is over.

If he would've just listened, we wouldn't be in this predicament. If he hadn't said those words, there would still be hope in my eyes and love in my heart.

Better yet, fuck this and fuck him. He doesn't deserve a letter. This doesn't concern him anymore. I've already changed my flight for tomorrow morning. I leave on the first flight out. Since I no longer have anything to say to him, there is no need to wait. I can return to the West Coast and be at home with my Godmother and Godsister when I receive the news.

*The next day

“I will never like flying’. I don't care!” I said stepping out of the bathroom after showering. I was dressed in a pair of sweats and a plain black T-shirt. I had wrapped a scarf around my head to protect my hair during my shower.

My Godsister, Shante, was waiting for me. She was relaxed on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her satin black bonnet and black fluffy robe made her look so much like her grandmother. “What?” she asked turning her head towards me. “You look like Nana Elsie!” I laughed into my hand. “Shut up!” she said slinging one of the pillows at me.

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge closest to me. I was tired. I knew why she was in here. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Honestly, I wasn't. My life was shit right now. Leaving Terry was just another stab to the heart. All I could do was pray to God that I didn't lose anymore. I couldn't possibly see myself being any lower than this.

“You wanna talk?” Shante asked rolling on her side facing my back. “Not really, I just wanna wait until they call,” I said solemnly. My shoulders were beginning to feel heavy again. I didn't want to think about what the doctor would say. I already knew this day was coming.

After years of medical neglect and misdiagnoses, I was finally given a proper diagnosis of both endometriosis and PCOS. I had been ignored for years when I complained of a forever-growing mountain of signs that something was wrong. I was told to “lose weight” to alleviate my symptoms. When I lost the weight, nothing changed. Some symptoms even seemed to get worse.

I had grown tired of all the referrals and guesses. I had explained to my original primary care physician years ago that I suspected that I had PCOS. It was dismissed as anxiety and medical hysteria. I tried again with three other physicians to be met with the same fate— try to lose weight, take this metformin, exercise daily, change your diet, etc.

This could have been treated years ago if someone would have just listened.

*3 hours later

I was in the kitchen eating when my cell phone rang. I picked it up thinking it was the call I had been dreading. I was eager to get this over with. Just say it, and let's move on.

“Hello, this is Bella,” I mumbled into the phone. I was on the edge again. Trying my hardest to breathe and stay calm. “Bell, where are you?” asked Terry. “Terry?” I asked pulling the phone away from my ear and looking at it. Fuck! Why didn't I look before answering? Why didn't I block him?

“Bella, I'm s—,” he started to speak before I interrupted him. “Save it. I… I don't care anymore,” I said through tears. “Bells, I was—,” he started again. “No,” I said sobbing into the phone. “Could you just—!” he yelled into the phone. That was it. I didn't have to deal with this. I hung up the phone and laid it on the table in front of me.

Pushing the plate away, I laid across my arms crying with my head down. My Godmother and Godsister were both gone to work. That left me alone once again with my emotions— all of them.

ring ring ring

Not again. I picked up the phone in anger. “I don't want to talk to you!” I screamed into the phone. “Isabella? It's Dr. Moore. We need to speak about scheduling your surgery immediately,” he said in a startled tone. “I'm sorry, Dr. Moore. I'm having a…,” I said taking a deep breath. “I can call back if—,” he said. “No!” I blurted out. “Sorry. Please, tell me now,” I whimpered. I was flying between emotions faster than my body could manage.

“Well, honey. I'm sorry to bring you such bad news at this time, but we're going to need to remove your left ovary. The cysts were quite large, and… Unfortunately, the biopsy indicated they were cancerous. The safest option is to remove the affected ovary and all endometriosis deposits. Later on, we can discuss any further changes,” he said. “Changes?” I questioned while sniffling. “If it progresses any further, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.” Dr. Moore continued to talk, but I had dissociated from the conversation. This was it.

My mind was overflowing with questions. Will I be able to have kids? Would this even get rid of the cancer? If it did, would it come back? Would life ever be normal for me?

I don't know. I'll probably never know.

*Later in the day

ring ring ring

Hours had passed since the call ended. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think. I had planned my whole life around me and Terry's relationship— kids, a house, a minivan, a dog, all of it. Now, everything was gone. Maybe my mother was right, I am cursed.

ring ring ring

“Who is it?” I sobbed into the phone. “It's me, Bella. Baby, can you please just listen to me?” Terry pleaded over the phone. “Why, huh? What’s there to listen to? You said everything you needed to say,” I yelled. All of my feelings were being overshadowed by my anger.

“I didn't mean it, Bella. That wasn't supposed to happen. I love you. You know that!” Terry yelled. “I don't know that, Terry. If you loved me, you wouldn't have said it. You meant it with all your fucking heart. You stood on it when you left without saying a word. No goodbye. No sorry. Nothing. That's not love,” I blurted out. I was beyond tired of holding my tongue. “Stop being so fuckin' childish right now and use your brain. You're always so damn emoti—,” he said cutting himself off. “Nah, say it! I'm too fucking emotional, huh? Ain't that right, Terry?” I screamed again. Tears were streaming down my face falling onto the kitchen table.

“I’m always sick, and… and I'm… I'm always emotional. That's what you… that's what you said, right? THEN, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WITH ME?!” I screamed as loud as I could. I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. Good. No more phone calls. No more doctors. No more — Terry.

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy

@insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini

@nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @poektiou624 @gwenda-fav @nayaesworld

@ittsstephanieee @beenathembo @blyffe @thegreatlibraryofalex @persethegawd

[lunarw0rks]

humbly requesting ghost x reader where he thinks he’s too old and damaged for reader. i headcannon ghost to be anywhere between 35-38 and the reader would be early twenties. he’s all emo and “oh they’re too innocent, i’d hurt and ruin them” and reader is just like “i would die for this man.”

Too Old For You // Part One

Summary: You've been crushing on him for a while now, even going as far as taking a stab for him. But it isn't enough for him to notice you; you're too young, too nice for someone like him.

Warning(s): medic!reader, fem!reader, age gap [reader is early twenties, ghost is mid/late thirties], mild injury/blood, hurt/no comfort

Word Count: 817

A/N: I enjoy hurting my own feelings :)

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX | AO3 VER | PART TWO .ˎˊ˗

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You did know that, by this point, at least. He had only told you about a hundred times.

“I can do this myself. It’s my job,” you let out a hiss as the Lieutenant purposefully wrapped the gauze tighter than necessary. You weren’t even supposed to be involved — you were supposed to keep hidden until the situation was handled.

He ripped off the end of it, fastening the small clip to keep the wrap in place. “Keep quiet,” he wanted to be irate. But you meant well, and that’s what bothered Simon the most. He, of all people, didn’t deserve to be the one you sacrificed yourself for. You were lucky it was a knife through the hand and not through the heart—where the intruder had been aiming the blade intended for him.

The gash in your palm would be a life-long reminder, doomed to leave a nasty scar.

Nothing says I’m in love with you like taking a stab in the hand for him, but it was abundantly clear he was too headstrong to let you be with him. Or was intentionally dismissing your signals entirely, you weren’t sure which one was more disheartening.

Ghost sets your injured hand back down, letting you admire his sloppy patchwork. It got the job done, it didn’t need to be an aesthetically-pleasing bandage. He used an alcohol wipe to cleanse the bloodstains on your forearm, now an unnecessary service. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing for you being injured on his behalf because he surely wasn’t expressing it through words.

You reached over with your unharmed hand and placed it over his, stopping his meticulous wiping, “I got this.”

The stubborn Lieutenant only flicked his gaze upwards from your hand on his, a brief scoff escaping his lips. Whatever the hell that meant. “Least I can do is get the damn blood off you, kid. Jumped in front of a bloody knife for me.”

Kid. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you.

He continued muttering and shaking his head in disapproval, running the alcohol wipe along your flesh until there was no trace of crimson.

It wasn’t a motive of stupidity, nor was it to prove yourself. You weren’t even a soldier, there would be no use trying to be tough in front of him. Your true motive was admiration for him, and even now, with a stab wound, he’s too mule-headed to let you in. Any longer, and you might just lose your mind entirely.

“Thought you would be relieved, I guess.” You shrugged, speaking with a small bit of defeat. “Knife was supposed to go right there.” A finger pointed at his heart but didn’t dare make contact. You knew better than that,.. Sort of.

Before you could finish outstretching your hand, his unoccupied one clamped over it, breaths a little heavier. Followed by a look that could only be described as intense contemplation; should I break this hand or continue to gently hold it?

“You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re doing, do you?” Simon questions, thumb instinctually caressing your knuckle to balance out the iron grip he maintained. “You’re confused.”

You were too young, too nice in his eyes. It was your job to be a healer, a good one, too. And his job? A trained killer. To him, it was too ironic, too striking of a contrast. An arrangement like that would never work—Simon was too mature, too damaged, downright unworthy of your kindness. At least that’s what he had himself convinced of, even after the knife incident.

You replied hastily, a slight tinge of frustration showing. “I’m not confused, Ghost. I know what I want—I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.” You would’ve done it again if it meant another chance at restarting this conversation. A conversation that now was nose-diving into a point of no return.

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” he sighed, amber eyes flooded with internal conflict. His grip released with one swift movement, and now his palm rested on either side of you, but it wasn’t intimidation he was after. “I’m not the bloke you want to jump in front of a bullet for, trust me.”

“Simon—” You blurted amidst his attempts at swaying you, cradling your bandaged hand. What more would it take?

“—Ghost.” He interjected, taking several steps back from his looming position. If he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from poisoning you.

It wasn’t right. You deserve someone better than him. “It’s Ghost. We’re not doin’ this, Kid. I’m not doing it.” His words were like a punch to the gut, more painful than a stab to the hand, that’s for sure.

The door to the infirmary slammed shut, only seconds before his footsteps faded into silence, stranding you with the solitude of rejection.

[atlasscrumpit]

Hannibal/Will x Reader

He was an addiction, he knew well enough what he did to you and he enjoyed every second of it.

Will had warned you over and over, but it was too late, you were trapped in Hannibal's web of obsession and sickly desires.

Will sat across from Hannibal, staring him down.

"I don't know what your plan is here, but it shouldn't involve Y/N. She is young and naive." Will grumbled making Hannibal chuckle softly.

"She's lonely and vulnerable, I merely want to take care of her." He responded making Will scoff and roll his eyes.

"You enjoy that she is naive and relies on you, until one day you'll shatter her heart and kill her." He growled, Hannibal tilted his head with a smirk.

"You think I would kill something as beautiful as her? I just wish to sculpt her into the best person she can be. She's a very smart young woman and could be very useful to me." Hannibal replied, Will's eyes darkened as he glared at his 'friend.'

"You're taking advantage of her and you know it." Will warned, his voice low.

"You don't know her like I do, she's fragile... A wilting flower, to anyone else they would just leave her to whither away." Hannibal spoke, his voice smooth with barely any emotion like usual.

"So, you would rather manipulate her then let her live her life?" He asked making Hannibal smile again.

"She wasn't going to make it past college, she was on the edge when I found her, one day away from suicide. Much like you were, Will." Hannibal mocked as Will's jaw tightened.

It wasn't a secret that Hannibal liked to collect broken things.

"Excuse me for trying to save someone from the same fate I suffered." He grumbled as Hannibal stood up and moved towards Will.

He reached down and tilted his chin up.

"Do I sense some jealously, Mr. Graham?" He teased, Will's eyes glaring into his very soul.

"I'm not jealous of her, I'm worried for her." He replied, doing his best to keep his anger in check.

"How sweet..." Hannibal muttered studying Will's face.

They both heard a noise and turned to see you coming around the corner.

"Y/N?" Will questioned, he hadn't been aware you were here.

"Hey, Will... Is everything okay?" You asked glancing at Hannibal as he offered you a soft smile.

"Everything is perfect, my dear. I was just comforting Will after a hard day. Are you all set up in your new room?" Hannibal asked, letting go of Will's face.

Will looked between you and Hannibal in confusion.

"New room?" He questioned as you smiled and sat across from Will.

"Yeah... There was a fire at the dorms, mine has the worst damage so Hannibal offered to let me stay here." You explained as Will glanced at Hannibal.

"A fire... How unfortunate." He grumbled as Hannibal smiled innocently.

"Yes, very unfortunate. But, Y/N is lucky to have us in her life to help her out. Isn't that right, Will?" Hannibal said.

"Very lucky." Will said, a slight scowl on his face as you smiled and sat beside him.

"At least I can spend some more time with you guys... Plus, Hannibal feeds me a lot better then I feed myself. I'll take his cooking over microwave meals any day." You said with a chuckle making Hannibal smile.

"Exactly, you deserve a lot better than some measly microwave meals." He said, mischief in his eyes as he looked at you

Will wanted to scream at you to run while you still could, but he knew it was too late.

After all this is exactly what had been done to him.

--

That night you sat up in bed doing some sketching when your door opened and you saw Will.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think you were still here." You said with a smile as you put your sketchbook down.

"He's lying, Y/N. You're a smart girl, so either you're not as smart as I thought or there's something else going on." Will said as you looked at him and sighed a little.

"I knew... I know he set that fire." You muttered making Will shake his head and sit on the side of your bed.

"Then why are you staying here?" He grumbled and you looked at him and hugged your knees to your chest.

"I've never had someone care about me like he does." You whispered, Will looker at you sadly.

"Y/N, you have to get out while you still can. You know what he is capable of." He said as you sighed.

"Maybe I'm capable all the same..." You replied.

"No, you aren't. Do not go down this path, do you hear me?" He warned as you sighed and rested your head on your knees.

"You know what he did to Abigail. She trusted him and he killed her as if it were nothing. You need to run." He growled as you looked at him again.

"There's a difference between Abigail and I. She hated herself for killing... I embraced it." You said as he looked at you in confusion.

"Y/N, what the hell did you do?" He asked in shock.

"I set the fire. I was also the one who killed my professor and my roommate, and my father, and my two sisters." You replied as he stared at you in shock.

"What?" He muttered as you smiled.

"You're lucky I like you Will, I like you and Hannibal together. You're like the fathers I never had..." Your face darkened.

"Don't fucking ruin this for me, don't ruin my family." You growled, as Will finally the real you behind the innocent girl you had been playing.

"Why not be truthful to Hannibal? Hannibal of all people would be happy to know you're a killer." He said as you smiled, the innocent facade coming back.

"We both know he knows, Hannibal is smart. But, we both like to play the part of the protective daddy and the innocent little girl." You said with a sickly sweet smile.

"Seems your perfect for each other after all."

[gowns]

if you ever find yourself thinking "i don't want to talk to this person about this problem, it would be so awkward and create tension"

one of the most uncomfortable conversations i've ever had was also a positive influence on the rest of my life.

when i was 18-19 years old, i moved out of the college dorms and into my first apartment, with my college dormmate + two random ladies we found on craigslist. we didn't really have anything in common, but the ladies were nice enough and they thought we were nice enough so we all agreed to move in with each other.

i have ~executive dysfunction~ and i was raised in a barn, so i really had no clue how chores worked or how to keep a common space clean. common 18-19 year old issue, tbh! the ladies from craigslist were a few years older, around 24-25, and they seemed increasingly annoyed with me as the weeks went on.

at one point, one of them knocked on my door, and said we needed to have a talk. she took me aside, sat me down on the couch, then listed, one by one, all the things that she noticed that i didn't clean, things i kept messing up, various ways i was inconsiderate of my other roommates. she said "maybe it's because i'm older than you, but you're really dropping the ball here, and we need to get on the same page with chores." she made a chore chart and handed it to me. and we followed it from that point on...

having to have that conversation was so anxiety-inducing! i'm sure it was hard for her, and man, it was hard to hear for myself. my face was red and hot, and i mumbled some excuses, but i knew she was right; i had been an inconsiderate clod. how could i do better?

well, i followed the chore chart, i gradually looked up more ways to take care of myself and the apartment, i gave my other roommates a lot more space and notice about things... i was still an inconsiderate clod imho but i was trying. i was really trying!

and to this day i think, wow, that one awkward conversation leveled me up in a way that tip-toeing around the issue, or passive aggressive remarks, or whatever, would have never gotten through to me. it had to be a direct conversation. she had to be honest and i had to be open to it. and we both were better off for it.

more often than not, just being direct and addressing something that's bothering you head-on will yield the most results. you might annoy the other person; they might completely disagree or get defensive. but at least you get the peace of mind of knowing you spoke up, and honestly, even when the other person has their walls up, they tend to marinate on it and change happens regardless.

anyway, if you needed any motivation to talk to someone about something that's bugging you. this is it. might as well do it now. no point in doing it down the line, when the damage is already done!

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[bagopucks]

A. Matthews - Worlds Worst Dad

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning(s): another family fight.

When I had gotten the request to do Auston and Hudson angst, I had initially started with two fics and for whatever reason I had them both completed last season. So I tweaked this one a little so I could still post it.

—————————————

Hudson was too young to understand.

“Just listen to me, bud.”

Auston had been so busy with the playoffs, that he hadn’t been home. He had been so busy with his job, and myself with my own, that at some point, we lost sight of how important communication was. Not necessarily for us, but for Hudson.

“You said you wouldn’t leave!”

“I’m right here.” Auston sounded so lost. I couldn’t blame him. Neither of us really expected our reunion to go this way. Hudson had been patient at first when playoffs began, but at some point he had given up. He’d become upset at first, worried. Nervous. Then he became angry. So angry. I couldn’t see into his mind. I couldn’t understand what he felt, but I knew it had to do with the way his biological father left. Sure, he didn’t remember it happening, but after his grandfather let the story slip one day, ‘fathers’ became a fragile subject for Hudson.

“You’re not around any more!”

Auston responded to texts when he could, and always called back when he missed a call, but the time zone differences made things difficult. Hudson didn’t understand why Auston couldn’t talk. Why Auston never stayed on the phone long enough to speak to him.

I had thought Hudson’s behavior would turn around when I announced Auston’s return home. Apparently it didn’t. I knew the knockout was hard, and I knew it took a toll on Auston, but I also knew he was ready to be back. I had warned the man before he came home, but I hadn’t expected Hudson to lash out the way he did. It was the last thing any of us needed.

“I’ve been a little busy, Hudson. Just chill out okay?”

I felt like a horrible mother. A horrible lover.

“Don’t tell me to chill out! You left!”

“Hudson don’t speak to Auston that way.” I reprimanded hopelessly.

“I didn’t leave.” Auston argued with a scoffed out laugh.

“Yes you did! Get out!”

“Hudson.” I finally heard him get tense.

“Get out!”

“Hudson, listen to me!” Auston raised his voice. It wasn’t something he did with Hudson. Mainly because he never had to. I could tell by the silence, that Hudson was trying to understand what was happening. Trying to process what it meant that Auston was angry.

“No!” The boy finally shouted back.

“Hudson! I have to work!” Auston finally snapped. I flinched, raising my hand slowly to clasp over my mouth as I felt a pang of emotion in my chest. Hudson simply didn’t want to be abandoned again. Not by another dad.

“I don’t want you! You’re a horrible dad!”

I jumped off the couch as soon as I realized what had been said. The blanket over my legs falling to the floor.

“What? You don’t mean that.” Auston’s nervous laugh had my heart thudding against my chest.

“Yes. I do.” The determination in my son’s voice had me immediately crossing the room to reach my son. “You’re horrible.” I watched Auston’s expression shift, and I felt my own breath catch in my throat as I spotted the tears in his eyes. As I reached for my son, he turned, shoving my hand away and storming off down the hall. The slam of the bedroom door had both of us flinching. My hand flew up to rest against Auston’s arm, squeezing gently.

“Aus,” I couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. I could see it in Auston’s eyes. He was devastated. “You know he doesn’t mean that” I whispered as I tried to turn his body to face my own. “He���s just emotional.”

“He said it pretty loud and clear.” Auston gestured toward the door, speaking as if it was an obvious fact. And it was. But that didn’t mean anything. Hudson was a kid, and Auston had done no wrong. He’d understand that eventually, and come around.

“He’s having a hard time. You have to know that.” I tried to push a piece of Auston’s long hair back before he pulled away, pursing his lips and shaking his head. My stomach twisted in knots.

“That’s okay… it’s fine- I’m fine.” Auston shrugged, “I’ve gotta go and get my dog anyway.” I had never seen Auston guard himself before in such a manner. He’d always been open with his feelings and emotions. “I’ll talk to you some other time, okay?” He shrugged once again, trying to keep up with the chill facade he usually didn’t have to fake.

“You can stay tonight.” I tried, but I knew he wasn’t going to.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t think I’m really making your life easier right now.”

“You’re not here to make my life easier, Auston.” I watched him slip past me, and I followed him to the door. “Sometimes Hudson isn’t going to like things you do. He’s the kid. You’re still in charge.”

“I can’t be in charge of him if he fucking hates me!” Auston shouted in a hushed tone. I watched as tears finally began to roll down his cheeks. This was not the type of reaction he hoped for after such a shitty second round knockout. Things were piling up on him.

“Don’t go home alone like this.” I insisted, wishing I could have comforted him the way he had done for me so many times before.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, Aus.” I whispered as I watched him slip his shoes on.

“It’s not your fault.” He shrugged again.

“I’m still sorry. You don’t deserve it.” He turned to glance at me, eyes distant. Thinking.

“I probably do.”

We had said our goodbyes before Auston left. Auston and Hudson were best friends as much as they were family. I knew it killed Auston to think he’d hurt and disappointed Hudson. And I knew it made him feel terrible to think he’d done so horribly that Hudson hated him.

“Hudson.” I had waited a while to speak with my son, uncertain of what to say. When I pushed open his bedroom door, I found Hudson coloring in a book on the floor. Something bothered me about how calm he looked. He looked up from his coloring book when I approached, fidgeting with the blue crayon in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Honey, you really hurt Auston.” I tried to be gentle as I spoke. I sat down on the floor across from Hudson, watching his eyes fall back to the book on the floor. “Hudson.” I tried to gain his attention. “Auston’s really sad. He doesn’t want you to be angry with him.”

Hudson’s hand shook slightly before he dropped the crayon. He remained silent before I heard him sniff.

“Then why’d he leave?”

“He told you, Hudson.” I moved to sit beside the boy, wrapping an arm around his back. “He’s gone away for work before.”

“But he always talks!”

“The end of the season was super busy for him, Hudson. Auston never meant to hurt you. He loves you, so much.”

“No he doesn’t.” Hudson pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his face in them as quiet cries escaped his lips.

“I promise he does. He always asked about you when he had time to call. He always said he was so excited to come home and see you. Hudson, he missed you more than he missed me.” I rubbed the boy’s back.

“No he didn’t.” Sometimes I cursed the heavens for giving my son the same stubborn behavior I held.

“Hudson.” I moved my hand from his back, turning his head to look at me. “Auston loves you more than anything. He hated being away for hockey. He hated the fact that he couldn’t be there to help you sign up for your first peewee team. He hated missing your last day of school, and he hated missing the little party we threw.” I watched the tears slip down his cheeks. “Auston tried so hard to call me that night. But things got in the way and he felt horrible.” Hudson leaned against my side, crying quietly as I returned my hand to his back, rubbing gentle circles.

“Is he mad at me?” Hudson’s voice trembled.

“Honey, I don’t think he’s angry. Just upset. You should never tell people you hate them. Especially someone as close to you as Auston is.”

“I’m sorry.” Hudson buried his head in his hands.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to, hun.” I ran my hand through the boy’s hair. “And the only way that guilt is gonna go away, is if you say sorry to Auston.”

“I will.” Hudson croaked out, another sob shaking his body. I sat on the floor with him for a half an hour before he began to relax. As much as I wanted him to apologize and be over with the ordeal, I figured a day with nan was needed first. A day for him to get out of the house, to see one of his favorite people, to avoid the situation at hand. He’d been at home waiting for Auston for weeks. He needed a break.

So the next morning, I helped him pack up and promised I’d be there the following day to see him. He asked about apologizing to Auston, but I said it was a good thing to give somebody space when they’re upset. I didn’t tell him I had plans to visit Auston. Kids didn’t need to know everything.

“One minute!” I heard Felix bark. I hadn’t seen the dog in forever. I was tempted to press the doorbell again for the sake of fun, but just as I reached for it, Auston was pulling the door open and hooking a finger in Felix’s bandana to hold him back.

“Hey, what’s-“ he stopped the second he looked up from his dog, a smile slow to form on his lips. Though it faltered when his eyes wandered, taking note of the unusual silence.

“No Hudson.” I spoke reassuringly. “I just came to see you.” I wanted to check on him, but Auston didn’t need to know that.

“You can come in.” Auston stepped aside and let Felix go. I walked into the house as he shut the door, greeting Felix with a high pitched hello and rubbing the dog’s ears while he padded his feet on the floor and wagged his tail endlessly.

“Somebody just got a hair cut.” I commented. “And he looks so handsome!”

“Thanks.” I looked up at Auston when he spoke, laughing at his sarcasm.

“You certainly look like you could use one too. Need me to cut it?” I offered, standing upright to pull at a lock of his brown hair. “It is getting a little long.”

“If you have time.” Auston shrugged. I could tell he was uncertain as to whether this was a quick stop or a full day visit.

“Well, Hudson’s having a sleep over with nan. So, if you’ll have me, I wouldn’t mind staying here tonight.” I smiled. “I’ll have all the time in the world then.” I watched him smile and nod, reaching for one of my hands.

“Yeah, yeah you can stay.” I was surprised when Auston pulled me into a hug, his entire body pressed against my own while his head fell against my shoulder. He was stressed. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was still about Hudson.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get this hair cut.”

Auston and I had been so busy, that we almost forgot how important it was to continue to nurture our own relationship. I couldn’t help the guilt I felt as I watched him walk up the steps, following at a safe pace behind. I missed him. The alone time, the childish nights of cuddling and making out. Even the failed dates we vowed to never go on again.

I followed Auston into the master bathroom, setting the toilet seat down while he got the shears and hair clippers out, as well as a squirt bottle. He made sure everything was functional and ready before turning to me with his comb in hand.

This had not been what I came over for, but I knew a bit of loving contact would loosen him up and hopefully cause him to be more open to the conversation we needed to have. I wanted to be on the same page with Auston before he and Hudson spoke again. Sure, Hudson had said he’d hated Auston before, and yes they had sorted that conflict out on their own. But this was a little bigger than that. Hudson had hit Auston’s insecurities right on the head and he didn’t even know it.

“Pop a squat.” I spoke, gently resting my hand on Auston’s hip and guiding him down onto the toilet. “What did you and Felix do today?” I created small talk as I combed through Auston’s smooth hair, glancing at his face occasionally to see his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips.

“We went for a walk. Hung out by the pool for a little while, planned his next playdate with Zeus. Oh! And I ordered him some new toys and treats for his birthday.”

“I forgot it was his birthday coming up. How old is he going to be?” Speaking of the dog, Auston and I both looked toward the door when his tags jingled. Felix sat in the doorway, dropping a ball on the floor and watching it bounce into the bathroom. Auston laughed. I had missed his happiness.

“Not now, buddy.” He spoke to his furry friend. “He’ll be turning five.”

“Five is a big number.” I teased softly, earning a laugh from Auston. I set his comb down after I finished using it, reaching for the bottle to begin spritzing his hair. Once I was sure it was well wetted, I swapped once again for the shears. “Hold still, okay?”

“Got it.” We sat in silence for close to five minutes before I watched Auston’s shoulders drop. Relaxed? Relieved?

“How are you feeling today?” My tone grew much softer, trying not to cause any discomfort. I watched Felix lay down in the doorway before I began to cut Auston’s hair.

“I guess I’m alright. Still a little shaken up.. about everything that’s happened, but I’m okay.”

“I spoke with Hudson last night. He was pretty upset about what he said to you.”
“I guess that’s good to hear.” Auston looked down at his hands. I sighed.

“You know how much he loves you, right? You are the first person on his mind every day.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No, Auston. Listen.. kids say things they don’t mean sometimes. They don’t have the best filters, or grasps on their emotions. And Hudson has never spent that long without seeing you before. It was a routine that got messed up, and for kids, routines are important. Routines are things they expect that they can trust to be consistent. This was a learning curve for everybody. He was anxious. He missed you, and it was hard for him to go to bed at night without hearing from you. He also doesn’t understand time.” I took Auston’s silence as a cue to go on. “Even if you did nothing wrong, he registered it as something wrong. It may take him some time to figure it out, but he still loves you, and once that consistency is restored, everything will be okay.”

Auston shuffled his feet slightly, nodding.

“I’m sorry I left last night.”

“Aus, a lot of shit happened last night. I didn’t expect you to stay. You’ve been so stressed, and I know that fight didn’t help at all. I’m just happy I can be here with you today.”

It was about fifteen more minutes before I finished cutting Auston’s hair. I set everything aside and grabbed a towel and a washcloth from his cabinet. “Why don’t you grab a shower, I’ll get you some clothes and we can go lay down for a bit.” I set the two towels down on the lip of the tub as Auston stood up. When I turned around, I came face to face with him.

“Thanks for being there,” his voice was barely louder than a whisper, hands landing on my hips. Our lips met briefly in a chaste kiss before I pulled away. “I’ll be fast,” he promised. I stepped out of the bathroom and pulled the door closed, fetching a fresh set of clothing from Auston’s dresser. I stepped back into the bathroom, placing the clothing on the counter top. Auston had already hopped into the shower, drawing the curtain back slightly to peek at me. 
“Wanna join?”

I pretended to consider the question before I sighed, as if I was plagued by saying yes.
“Fine, but only because I missed you, Matthews.”

“Awesome.” I watched the curtain fall closed, laughing softly to myself. I stripped down, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I slid the engagement ring off my finger, placing it in the jewelry dish by the faucet. One Auston had purchased for days and nights spent at his place. I climbed into the shower, Auston’s hands swiftly finding my body. I helped wash his hair, and rubbed the muscles that were sore while Auston busied himself with every inch of me. His behavior left me giggling for most of the shower, and once the water was turned off, I ushered him out, following close behind. Auston grabbed the towel I had set out for him, wrapping up with a smile on his lips.

“Gotta keep you warm,” Auston spoke, going the extra mile to kneel down and dry my legs. I ran my hands through his fresh cut hair while he worked, smiling to myself at how kind he was.

“Alright, why don’t you get dressed, Aus? I’m gonna go grab some clothes.” I slid out of the bathroom, grabbing a makeshift outfit for myself, constructed of Auston’s clothing. I had things to wear at his place, but his stuff was so much more comfortable.

When Auston stepped out of the bathroom, our eyes met. It had been so long since we were able to spend any time alone. I watched his expression shift into a look of mischief before he rushed in my direction. A gasp escaped my lips when he hoisted me up over his shoulder.

“Auston!” I shouted at him, but it was in vain. I felt him lift me up once again before my back came into contact with his mattress. Then I heard Felix bark, and soon he had joined us for some fun. The fluffy dog hopped up onto the bed, and I was quick to sit up to avoid any unwanted kisses.

“You’re an ass,” I whined at Auston in a playful tone. He climbed up onto the bed and gently pushed me down onto my back once again. Felix tried to invade our fun, sniffing at both Auston and I, before Auston gently waved him off.

“It’s not nice to insult your significant others.” Auston spoke, leaning in to press a kiss to my lips. He climbed off of me and up the bed, sitting down as I sat up. I joined him by the headboard, resting my hand beneath his jaw and bringing his lips to my own again.

“It’s not an insult. It’s a reality check,” I teased. Auston giggled softly, and I swore I could have heard him snort.

Auston laid down and settled his head in my lap. Felix approached with a wagging tail, sniffing at me, and my stomach, before laying down next to me.

“I missed you so much,” Auston whispered as his head came to rest atop my own. “I wish you and Hudson could have come to a game.”

“I know, it just wasn’t in the cards for us this time. It will be next time though.” Auston’s silence made me tense slightly.

“What if there isn’t a next time? What if we don’t make playoffs again?” I looked at him, brow furrowed.

“Whether there is or isn’t, Hudson and I will try to make every important milestone you reach. I can’t tell the future but I can tell you right now, that we love you very much, and we want to be there for you.” My words brought a smile to his lips.

“Thanks,” I pressed a kiss to Auston’s forehead. His eyes fell closed, sighing in comfort.

“Oh, and Hudson watched every one of your playoff games on the tv, just for the record.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I agree with you about your stances on punishment, and I think it's so important to see that perspective instead of the more common one. I do not want to live in a world with the death penalty or prison.

But I'm very curious how you got to the point where you want your abuser to be happy. Capital H happy. I've never seen that before. I think it's great, and it must've taken a lot of time, and if it's not too personal, I'd like to hear about the process. If not to help myself, to help someone else. I'm personally very very jaded to the whole "forgiveness" mentality (it seems very catholic to me somehow? I forgive you so I'm better than you?) But the way you put it feels different somehow. Sorry for picking your brain, and if it's too personal I totally get it. Thanks for your time.

Thank you for this question.

Hm, it's a tough one. It may be informed by my lack of any singular capital-A Abuser. Certainly, I have had people who were abusive to me longer term (my mother especially), but for the most part it was many dozens of adults in single instances or shorter term situations during my childhood and teenage years that raped or otherwise harmed me. That lack of any singular individual to act as a locus for all the damage may have made it easier for me to come to a point where I wish them well.

I remember being 19, face in my toilet bowl, puking my guts up after downing a fifth of rum in an hour or two. I think it was a Thursday. I understood my mother for the first time. I wanted to stop drinking, and I didn't know why I couldn't.

My roommate at the time slept on a mattress on the floor in the living room. He left his family the day he turned 18 and took the Greyhound across the country to crash with me. We were good friends when he got here, but my negligence and failure to control my drug use ruined that relationship within a few months. He stayed with me for two years. He didn't have other options.

I don't remember those years well at all. Besides various temp jobs, all I did was drink, get fucked up, and make messes I never cleaned up. It was a one bedroom apartment and I had the bedroom, he couldn't really go anywhere. He didn't really know anyone. I was a fucking terror to live with, and a terror he couldn't even really get away from.

And I didn't mean to be that way. I didn't mean to hurt him with my dereliction. But it doesn't matter, y'know, impact is more important than intent. I fucked up bad.

Eventually he left. I was and still am filled with remorse for putting him through what I did. Maybe this perspective is the christian upbringing, maybe it's twelve step bullshit, but often I see my feelings as very self serving. I can justify just about anything, as long as I use enough self pity. But this feeling was different. It was just... remorse, pure and unfiltered. No rationalizations as to how it wasn't really my fault, no equivocations, no blaming outside factors, just acknowledgement that I fucked up and I hurt someone I loved. I was sorry that I had done that.

Humility does not come naturally to me. This was a humbling experience.

I--and everyone I've ever met, everyone who ever harmed me--am a human being. No more, no less. In each of us is potential both to love deeply and to do great harm to others. No one is without both these potentials.

It comes down to this: what I wish for myself, I must wish for all.

Do not mistake me here--this does not neatly translate into a pragmatic political position. For me, this is simply some sort of spirituality, that is to say, how I strive to navigate my life, day at a time, in the world as I find it. This is as small scale as it can get.

I understand that feeling about forgiveness you mention. What I have to say about it probably won't help the christian connotation; I am an atheist and a subjectivist, though obviously culturally evangelical. Maybe it is that last part that influences this next, but I don't feel I have the authority to forgive anyone. Or, in another word, 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'

Now, of course, I believe in neither god nor sin, but I do believe in harm. 'Let he who is not capable of such harm cast the first stone,' perhaps. Not all harm is equivalent, certainly, but no one is innately capable or incapable of greater harm than others. The ability to actually do harm is relative to relations to power, no doubt, but a given power relation is not innate.

So yeah I end up back at 'i have no moral high ground over or under anyone else, the forgiveness is neither mine to give nor withhold,' which frankly is a rather christian viewpoint.

There's this idea in Judaism that has stuck with me for the last few years: tikkun olam. To repair the world. What must I do to ensure my part in that repair happens?

There is so little I have control of. The only thing I can change is what I do. If the world around me is hardened and cruel, why must I adopt that cruelty into myself? Will it get me better outcomes in life? Perhaps, perhaps not. I have found it hasn't, but others may find it has. But that's talking about results. And I don't have power over results.

I cannot change the world, cannot repair it alone. But I think I can work to repair myself, and in the process, the smallest portion of the world may be repaired alongside me. Maybe, maybe not. It becomes a matter of faith. Or to put it in a therapeutic framing, it's an 'even if.'

I'll end with this, an old twelve step saying: "resentments are like drinking a bottle of poison and expecting the other person to die."

What is a resentment? Re- as in once more. -sent, as in sentiment. Feeling something once more. It is the reanimated corpse of a feeling, not the feeling itself. It looks like the feeling you know, maybe walks and talks like it too. But it's rotting away. It died long ago. So why should you pretend the corpse is alive? It moves, it rasps, but it's something else now; it only shares a body with the original, nothing else. So maybe it's time to let go, and begin to move forward.

[silcobrainrot]

I was typing out a reply to this post and then I realized I lost the plot so bad that I didn't want to derail OP's point so here it is. OP's points that I'm reflecting on:

Zaun is a very fucked place with a very fucked system. He’s doing what he thinks needs to be done in order to at some point be able to rein it in and make it better. He wanted to give Zaun a fighting chance against Piltover. He wanted to make them equal. And in a place where there are no rules. And people talk with violence. You’re going to have to make some very awful choices in order to not only take control, but have enough power to fix it. He may not have been the one to change Zaun, but he’s raised the girl that could.

"but he’s raised the girl that could." SO fucking true and I wish s2 had let her. firing that rocket at the council was a promise to make their lives hell. i didn't need to see her as the leader of a movement but it would have been nice to see her enable and enact change just by being a powerful loose cannon. Act 1 almost gave us this but then she decided that Jinx was dead in ep 4 and then we don't see her do much of anything until she shows up to the battle in the finale. She could have spent the season being unhinged, having agency and making actual choices that have consequences for herself, Zaun, and Piltover (she was responsible for most of the inciting incidents in s1). The good consequences and the bad.

Let her run wild. Show her lose herself to her grief and anger and how much she misses him and how fucked all of this is. Then bring her back. Not in a redemption arc way, I don't think she needs that, but in a way where she finally understands what she wants her life to be. She mourns the loss, she comes out of her grief, she forgives herself for killing him because it's what he would have wanted, and for the first time ever, she gets to choose what her path in life will be. It's time to be her own person. She's not a hero, she'll never lose her enjoyment of violence and chaos, but she is no longer fueled by anger and hatred and vengeance.

Let Sevika use the stuff Jinx does on her own--avenging Silco and taking vengeance against Piltover--to lead a movement. Let Sevika struggle with keeping the people who worked under Silco loyal to the mission. Show us how Sevika got on good terms with Scar [the firelights' leader while Ekko was away] and what an alliance between the movement for change inspired by Jinx, and the firelights, could accomplish for Zaun. Bringing them hope that change is really possible. Getting them out of their homes and their "every man for himself" mentality and get them believing in something. Wanting more for themselves. Organizing. Community services. Shared resources. Fucking unionizing idk. We see so many of Zaun's worst people but there are normal people living in normal poverty just trying to get by down there, too. Show us the Zaun Silco had become so disconnected from due to isolation and obsession.

It started with Silco, despite how flawed his methods were and how they did so much damage to the Undercity. An evil he thought was necessary because he didn't know any other truth in life besides pain and misery. But it started with him, and it gets realized by his daughter and lieutenant. Sevika is probably the closest thing he had to a friend, who stuck by his side despite how much their methods were hurting the people they were trying to liberate. The people who worked closest to him, lived closest to him, and could see the flaws in both his methods and him as a man, finishing what he started.

But instead we get Jinx committing suicide and Sevika joining the council which. Jesus fucking christ I don't even want to get myself started on that bullshit. @wetnoodle thank you for the brain worm