#any others jobs subject me to even more abuse and torture

[eldritch-araneae]

Suddenly remember how stupid the entire job searching is.It’s already hard to find even the most simple job bc those fuckers just want to exploit workers for free (esp in game industry and their “““art tests”““) and how even retails jobs require (event it’s not written, but we all know it’s there) university diploma, and even if you get to interview, they start nitpicking your looks, demanding to change.

Like nope, dyed hair is one of few thing that keep me alive, it will never change it. Cmon you are just grocery store line, how my hair can impact my working ability?? You’re not some elite/government institution to hold any sort of image standart djhjfgnf

Ofc it’s even hard bc you’re disabled, but it’s mental disability so you can’t get any accommodations, or even mention you need any bc you will lose the job instantly.

And then those ppl have the audacity to complain that we don’t want to work %)

[charleslee-valentine]

TCM Ship Week @maskemasker

Day six prompt: Argument

Ship: Franknub (Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer)

Word count: ~2,700

Warnings: Graphic cannibalism, threats of violence and of abuse, implied murder, ableism by way of ignorance, brief suicidal ideation, canon bullying (Kirk’s ableist rant about Franklin), Drayton Sawyer being a dehumanizing asshole.

——————

Franklin looks down at the plate of meat in front of him, the slightly too red sauce all around it. Ain’t no way is any of that goin’ anywhere near his mouth. He saw them butcherin’ jobs the big one was doin’ out in the kitchen. Don’t know who exactly ended up on his plate, but it certainly ain’t some cow.

“I ain’t eatin’ that.”

Doesn’t figure he needs to say why. And he don’t. That’s not what his captor, the twitchy one in green, questions him ‘bout.

“Why you wanna die for?”

So they hold knives to him, chase people down and slay ‘em like they ain’t nothin’, but a hunger strike is confusing to him.

Franklin can’t help but scoff, “Gonna happen either way, right? You either gonna kill me, or I’m gonna starve. Might as well starve.”

That just seems to make him more confused.

His face gets all scrunched up, and he whips his head around, like he’s lookin’ for someone to tell him what to say. Franklin realizes that’s exactly what he’s doin’ when his distressed expression is noticed by his brother, the old man, who waves him away immediately,

“Your mess, boy. You fix it.”

And he’s left to it, just the two of them at that grand table now.

Nubbins is his name, or at least that’s what he got called by the older one earlier today. Well Nubbins sinks down in defeat, shoulders slouched so far forward they’re resting against his knees. His hands fly up to his face, chewing on the skin around his nails, nervous about gettin’ left to his own devices.

“I-I ain’t ‘llowed to- to leave the table ‘til you eat.”

Now, he don’t take pride in bein’ rude, but it prob’ly don’t count if it’s towards someone like this. Franklin huffs in irritation, “Oh great. I get to put up with you for longer.”

Neither of ‘em meets the other’s eyes. Maybe different reasons for it, but they ain’t jovial, no matter how badly Nubbins wants them to be, “I’d eat- eat your supper for ya, b-but big brother would know. He al-always knows everythin’.”

As if. Franklin figures that’s good old fashioned fear talkin’. “He’s just some old man. Ain’t gonna know.”

Nubbins considers it, seems to roll that around in his head like a little pinball, back and forth ‘til he settles on not choosing sides. Changes the subject to make it seem like he never cared at all,

“M-Maybe I don’t wants second supper!”

“Congratulations then.” He can’t help but be blunt with him, though Franklin feels a little pinch of sympathy when Nubbins doesn’t get his sarcasm.

His twinkly eyes narrow, “What for?”

“You really don’t get out much, do ya?”

“Says you! I get out p-p-plenty! Y-You don’t even got legs! You ain’t g-goin’ nowhere never!”

Now, Franklin’s heard a lot of awful things about hisself, ‘bout the way he moves and looks and all, but that’s a new one. He takes it in stride with a questioning look but sees it as his chance to suggest, “Could go more places if y’all’d give me my wheels back.”

Again, Nubbins hunches down like a cat. “Can’t.”

Shit, that can’t be good.

“Why? What the hell did y’all do with it?” Franklin catches himself breathin’ hard. More scared now that somethin’ happened to his wheelchair and he’ll have to live without it, than the chance they’ll just kill him off.

Nubbins watches a bead of blood he bit free from his own fingertip roll, focusing on that ‘stead of the question he’s s’posed to be answerin’. Like if he ignores Franklin hard enough, he won’t have to answer his question. But then it bubbles outta him all at once, “Uh. B-Bubba tried t-to fold it, a-an’ it busted.”

“Jesus, how busted.”

“For forever busted.”

So they do psychological torture here too. Franklin would laugh if he wasn’t sick to his stomach. Not sure if he should sob ‘til he gets sick all over the place or yell ‘til his mouth is too full of blood to, he raises his voice in exasperation, “Oh y’all really should just kill me now. Fuck’s sake, you’d think even a cannibal would have some god damned decency not to break a man’s wheelchair!”

“I-I didn’t!” Nubbins insists right away, sounding just as angry that Franklin would direct his emotions his way.

“Nobody woulda if y’all hadn’t taken it!” He can’t help but point it out. Even if he don’t like the unpleasantness. Maybe Nubbins’ll dislike it enough to kill him and this’ll be over.

No dice.

“Sh-Shut up!” Nubbins claps his hands over his ears and shakes his head wildly, “Y-You ain’t supposed to be mean to me. You my only friend!”

Well. Now he feels even *more* bad for him. Might be a better idea to get Nubbins on his good side instead. Though, he can’t help but point out, more baffled than venomous anymore, “Friends don’t feed their friends people meat!”

Nubbins’ eyes burn with satisfaction ‘cause now he’s got somethin’ over Franklin, “Wh-What does you know about it? Y-Your friends was mean ‘n didn’t even like you!! Friends d-don’t talk like them do neither!! -Put him outta our m-misery.-“

Sounds right. But Franklin don’t want it to be. “Who the hell said that?”

He sure hopes it wasn’t Sally.

But no, Nubbins informs him it was, “Supper boy.”

Ah. Franklin couldn’t confirm it before, but guess that does it; that slab of meat on his plate was once Kirk Waisanen. Can’t‘ve been Jerry, saw him get shoved in the ice box. Honestly, Kirk prob’ly woulda been his first guess anyhow. Never was real good at hidin’ the hate he held in his faux-suede heart.

Pink in the face, he gets defensive anyhow, “Well who says he was talkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Total zero in the world. Someone oughta shoot him. Put him outta our misery... Franklin never was little.” Nubbins parrots an imitation perfectly, even that stutter of his goin’ away for his stuck up yuppie impression. Shit.

Franklin don’t want to lower his guard that easy, but between Nubbins and the gelatinous piece of meat on the fine china, only one was honest with him. He pushes,

“What if’n I don’t believe you?”

“I heared it all in the b-b-backyard. ��Fore they go’d in the house and B-Bubba knocked his stupid head in with- with his hammer.” Says it like he’s all proud of himself too, Nubbins does.

“So what, you think you’re better to me than that?” Franklin challenges. Kinda would be nice.

Maybe he’s sick already, to think attention from a killer is any good. Hard not to after how his past few days on that trip went, long before any dracula hitchhikers got involved. The thought crosses Franklin’s mind now, ‘bout how right he was when he said that ‘bout Nubbins. Just bein’ all mean and bitchy ‘cause everyone else was bein’ that way to him. But the Dracula thing was part true, ‘cause ain’t no way this slab of human steak is cooked all the way through.

Speaking of, Nubbins reminds him cautiously, like he’s afraid of remembering responsibility, “I’m t-tryin’ to feed you your supper.”

It’s ‘cause he don’t wanna get in trouble. Franklin knows that, he knows what the old man’ll do if he finds out Nubbins is failin’ at fixin’ this mess.

His heart drops when he’s got to admit it’s also because-

“Cause even the cannibal don’t want me dead as much as my own friends did... Goddamnit.”

And for the first time in Lord only knows how long he’s been here, at least two nights, Franklin breaks. The wall of emotion just hits him like a tanker truck right in the chest. Now, Franklin’s been criticized a long time for bein’ loud, bein’ a brat, whatever they called it when he tried to be listened to, but even that wasn’t outright cryin’.

Well he does now. Franklin leans as back in his chair as the top of his spine will let him, tears runnin’ backwards to pool in the corners of his eyes and run into his hair stead of bein’ so obvious. But Nubbins watches every last thing like an owl with them big eyes o’ his. He caught the shimmer of grief the second it flooded Franklin’s weary soul. l

Trying, in the way he knows how, to be gentl, Nubbins offers a compromise of comfort,

“Uh. Y-You should eat your supper, a-an’ then we can go.”

“Go where? Go rot in the basement with the others?” Franklin’s voice crackles and burns with emotion, and now he’s startin’ to realize how precious those tears were. Dehydratin’ himself ‘cause he can’t control his emotions, how wonderful.

Quickly Nubbins dismisses that idea outright, as if doin’ it physically by waving both of his bony hands about. “Nuh-uh. I-If you starved I’d keep you f-for my-my arts. I wouldn’t eat ya.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Despite his dryness, Nubbins doesn’t understand Franklin was being cold again.

All he hears is a thanks for the advice, and oh how he beams. Bigger than he thinks he’s ever seen anybody smile, even the church belles posin’ for their pageant photos didn’t try to pull on artificial joy that hard. That smile of Nubbins’ is as all real, crooked and wobbly and marred by rot that it is.

Franklin can’t keep up the energy to be harsh. Hell, with a broken wheelchair, he’s got nothin’ to lose by just bein’ nice. Not like he can run off.

He looks Nubbins straight in the eye to catch his attention that this is serious business for him to lower his guard, “Alright. Alright. If I do this, you promise me somethin’?”

Nubbins insists. “I’m good at promises.”

Somehow Franklin doubts a tricky thing like him truly can even keep a promise, but maybe he’ll try to. Who the knows and who the hell cares. A friend might be enough for the level of worn out Franklin is feelin’ right now.

One final plea to save his life, well, and to make a friend out of a shit situation, Franklin can hear the adrenaline makin’ his heart rate go up, “You spare me tonight, you best do it for the rest of time, alright? We ain’t just friends no more, we’re the best friends in the whole world.”

Might’ve been too much at once, ��cause now Nubbins narrows his eyes and observes, “I don’t like l-liars. I p-p-peel’t the last pig done told me a lie.”

“Friends don’t lie to friends either, do they?” Franklin raises his eyebrows when he says that they’re friends. Emphasizing to Nubbins he’s still got a little bit of power left, even if he’s nicer now.

This friendship ain’t a favor. It ain’t *just* a for-tonight thing. A deal is a deal and Franklin thinks he’ll be just fine if he keeps this up. Hopes he will, anyhow.

Makes Nubbins giddy enough anyhow. Stands up outta his seat, pacing the length of table and doing a little hop each time he turns around, waving his arms. All that excited energy, over bein’ called somebody’s friend, it’s gotta go somewhere. At least this way Franklin knows he wasn’t playin’ some kinda trick, wantin’ to be his friend and all.

It’s too bad reality is sittin’ fetid in front of him an’ distractin’ him from the joy.

Franklin looks away from Nubbins and down at his plate instead. His head is full of doubt, thinkin’ about what Nubbins says Kirk said, only he knows it’s true cause he can just hear it in Kirk's voice. Always under the surface if helpin’, as if two little strips of plywood couldn’t be placed by anybody else who hated him a little less. The guy is so damn mean. Or, he was. ‘Cause he’s dead now.

Serves him right.

Franklin bitterly imagines his teeth tearing into the Kirk roast on his supper plate, pleased to find he doesn’t immediately feel sick this time. Must be thinkin’ loud, maybe making frustrated noise of his own. He looks up from the piece of meat and realizes Nubbins is now the opposite of before, stopped and just watching. Perched on a chair like an owl.

Franklin, alight with anxiety, decides to just do it. He closes his eyes tightly, and he takes a bite of the meat. Surprisingly, his first instinct isn’t to gag, his body not rejecting the most immoral meal he’d ever did. Nubbins is leaned close to watch every movement, and the second the meat is off the silverware, he gets that big smile again. Not understanding social convention, he notices the sweat on Franklin’s cheek from all the nerves and pokes it, like he’s petting him to soothe.

There’s a whole plate now he’s gotta push through, but one bite is at least progress. Nubbins thinks so too, ‘cause after a moment to let it sink in, he immediately goes running to tell Drayton that Franklin is on his best behavior. I’m his absence, Franklin looks down at the plate, knowin’ he oughta finish before that real cynical one shows up. Closing his eyes tightly, he eats every last bite of the human meat serving.

“C-Cook, you gotta let him g-go now, he was r-real good- real good an’ eated all ‘a that guy we give him!! Look!” Nubbins excitedly announces, dragging his brother by the arm.

He’s rightfully skeptical of a newcomer changing so fast, though it’s evident Franklin ain’t entirely typical. “Didn’t dump it on the floor did, ya?”

“No sir.”

“Didn’t make Nubbins eat it?”

Interesting he mentions it when Nubbins was so scared of gettin’ in trouble for exactly that. Franklin’s tone is a little dry, a little irritated, but he answers him, “No sir. He wouldn’t‘ve even if I tried.”

“Better not.” The old man turns and ignores Franklin’s existence completely now, to explain to Nubbins, “Alright, boy. For catchin’ that girl yesterday, you can keep the cripple.”

Oh. That confirms that then. Sally didn’t get away on that last burst of energy. And here, Franklin just ate a people steak. Somehow he didn’t feel sick before, but now he does. Ashamed and guilty and pissed off at himself. Though it’s possible that’s a lie. Could be tryin’ to get in his head. Maybe someday he’ll know.

Ignoring Franklin’s mini-crisis, Drayton talks over his heightened breathing to tell Nubbins, “Bubba’ll carry your pet upstairs now, but boy you best stay here now, take care of this new- new development. ‘Cause if I hear wind you left home ‘gain ‘n made Bubba take care of this’n, I’ll personally see to it he’s bled dry ‘n left out for the vultures.”

Nubbins doesn’t like the sound of that and tries to argue, “B-But-“

No matter, his brother clenches his fist and screams over him anyhow, “You argue with me an’ I’ll kill the damn thing now!”

Franklin is pissed. Beyond pissed, over bein’ talked about that way. No fair that he got to digest the last asshole who said awful things about him, but can’t shut up that evil old man. At least he can tell Nubbins is upset too, means he ain’t alone in this mess now.

Out of his mind or maybe just broken down, Franklin decides to be nice to Nubbins then. If Sally really is dead, he’s got nobody else to connect with left in the worl. Plus, if he’s gonna die here one way or another, at least if he’s kind he’ll know Nubbins saw him as a friend rather than as some meat or a cow or a *thing*.

Franklin speaks up for Nubbins a little, but so they won’t get in trouble, he declaring polite compliance, “I’m finished my supper. Nubbins was very helpful to tell me all about how y’all killed and cooked up Kirk. I gotta say, he really deserved it. Didn’t taste as rotten as his soul was though. Matter of fact, y’all got any more of that meat?”

Never seen somebody look so proud as the bright and giddy look on Nubbins’ face. Franklin won’t mind bein’ his friend, he thinks, if he keeps showin’ off that smile. This time, Franklin smiles back.

[strawbeerossi]

Salt In Open Wounds

This is for @tobias-hankel’s pre-whumptober collection!

Bad Thing: Torture

Bad Person: Ex-Partner

Content/Warnings: Cursing, unnamed abusive ex. bounces between therapy appointment and past abduction, past trauma, mention of guns and knives, mentions of Tobias Hankel, physical abuse, torture, branding (with a cattle iron), hopelessness, general angst, PTSD, depression, murder, blood, psychological torture, mild gore.

Word Count: 5.5K

Find it on AO3 || Masterlist || Requests

I’m no better than the CM writers for this. Also I got a little carried away with writing this.

“Spencer, I’d like to talk about what you’ve been through, if that’s alright.” The woman across from Spencer spoke up. This was his sixth session since the incident, however it was like he could never fully open up. Traumatic events were capable of taking someone’s voice, in his case it was severe. He’d been digging his nails into his hands just discussing the outer details, not wanting to dive straight into the cesspool of darkness he’d been exposed to. He wanted to avoid it for as long as he could. It wouldn’t be that easy though, he had nothing else to use as a shield. He’d explained all the details surrounding his pain, now he had to talk about it.

“I know it’s going to be very hard.” Marianne, his therapist, spoke. “I just want you to know that we can take this as slow as you’d like. There will be future sessions.” She gently reminded me. The once bright and cheerful doctor had been chipped away over his fifteen year career with the BAU, his year of hell broke him further. “No, no.. I uh, I need to talk about it at some point.” Therapy was mandatory, so it wasn’t like he’d gotten any other choice but to sit there. “I just, I uh, I don’t know how to begin..” 

“Why don’t you start with the first night?” 

*** 

Spencer was excited, taking a much needed break from his job at the FBI to go on sabbatical.There was a lecture circuit for Criminal Justice related classes, he was excited to take over the course for Criminology. Marbury University had recommended him for the job due to his exceeding pass rate for his class. He didn’t have the confidence to tell them it was because of the fact he was an attractive older male and he captured attention from young women and men alike. 

It was silly, really. As a younger man, he was more used to people looking at him like he was an alien. He was socially awkward, his demeanor being one like a skittish cat. The years passed and he gained confidence, little by little. With that confidence, he began to lose the innocence that he once had. Tobias Hankel chipped away at him, getting him addicted to dilaudid as well as subjecting him to torture. After him, Spencer’s life was never the same.

Prison was the boiling point. Even being there for a few months, it began to eat away at him. He’d watched a friend die who he worked so hard to protect, he’d been subjected to beatings, as well as stabbing himself with a shiv to get himself locked into solitary confinement due to the fact the inmates knew of his status of a federal agent. The day JJ told him he was going home, he was relieved. 

Until he had to deal with Cat Adams yet again, the woman using Lindsey Vaughn to abduct his mother, which sent them on a wild goose chase. It ended with Diana safe and sound, yet he never thought that he could experience that much anger and hatred. He’d planned on choking Cat to death in the interrogation room. Thank God for JJ, the one who managed to bring him out of his intense fit of rage.

He was trying to fix his life again, bring back the past version of himself that he yearned to be. A young man in the world who had so much promise, so much dedication. Now he was older, he was aware that he had so much to lose.

It was Friday morning when he left the office after giving Emily his paperwork for sabbatical, requesting a year of leave to pour himself into his passion of teaching the future of the bureau as well as law enforcement as a whole. The drive was gonna be an hour, so he felt like he’d been prepared enough, not being someone who was particularly fond of driving. 

The convention center reminded him of the places that he and Penelope would go to for their numerous conventions. Just the memories made him smile, enjoying the parts of his past that he loved to relive in his mind. Eidetic memory was a blessing and a curse, that was the bottom line of it all. Grabbing his suitcases from the trunk of his car, he was heading into the hotel where he’d be staying for the time being. The circuit was only for a few weeks, however he was preparing to go back to Marbury for the rest of his time off.

Spencer had checked into his room, going up the stairs to the second floor to get settled in. “Excuse me,” A familiar voice was causing Spencer’s attention to turn towards the sound. “Wait what are you-” There was no way he could’ve predicted the way he was feeling something heavy hitting the back of his head, his body crashing onto the ground. 

***

“Do you know how they brought you back to where you ended up?” Marianne asked, keeping a calm demeanor even though Spencer had been digging his nails into his palm, eyes squeezed shut from the fear of the vivid memories coming back to haunt him, almost smelling the hotel hallway. “I, uh, no. I can’t remember. I woke up there, I uh, I remembered the pain in my head. It was a headache that felt like it gave me a brain hemorrhage. Obviously it didn’t.” He spoke softly, eyes now opening as his gaze was fixed down at his lap. 

“There’s no logical way that she got me out by herself, it makes no sense. I just can’t figure out who was there to help her and I don’t know why anyone would help her.” Unbeknownst to Spencer, his hands were tangling in his tousled curls as he roughly pulled at the roots from frustration. Pain was a way he could kickstart his hell, knowing that the familiarity of his wincing would bring back something. It had to. The sounds of Marianne trying to snap Spencer out of his actions had fallen on deaf ears, tears now streaming down Spencer’s face as he was fully throwing himself back into a world he so desperately wanted to get away from.

***

He placed himself back in the dank basement, the smell of mildew and mold assaulting Spencer’s nose. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face and back, the panic setting in from the coarse and rough rope cutting into the flesh of his wrists, daring to cut his skin from his thrashing.

Due to being abducted before by the likes of Tobias Hankel, he knew to examine his surroundings, that was how he got himself out the first time, how he saved himself and began to slip away into a never ending pit of trauma and despair. The dim light in the room revealed a cement floor, droplets of a crimson substance covering the floor. Blood. There was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. He shouldn’t have been here, he should’ve been getting ready for his lecture delving into the psychology of serial killers. Instead, he was locked away in a kill room, a place where he could be reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh and bone. 

His ears were ringing, the head injury from before causing a migraine that made him want to slam his head onto the cement floor, to put an end to the splitting headache. It was good he was tied up, the idea of ending this suffering so early on and robbing whoever this person was of their chance to kill him was so satisfying. Eidetic memory didn’t serve him any purpose here though, each time he tried to remember the face of the woman in the hallway, he was left with a blurry outline. This was all too reminiscent of when he was arrested in Mexico. Maybe he was drugged again? That would explain how he couldn’t bring himself to remember his captor. The trauma response of the brain would surely be shutting things out, as if it were any help shielding him of the pure hell he was going to face.

His thoughts stopped entirely when he heard the heavy sound of the metal door being pushed open, his head snapping over immediately. With double vision from the concussion, he felt even more hopeless. “W-why am I here?” He asked slowly, blinking his eyes slowly to try and focus them on the face of the person in front of him. The pain of a sharp slap to his face had his head flying to the side, a groan of pain falling from his lips. 

“You’re here because this is the place you need to be.” The voice was soft, almost sickeningly sweet. It was also very familiar. The woman from the hallway, the woman who haunted his thoughts from her unknown, blurred face. There was a burn in Spencer’s throat. He felt ill.

Her.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked immediately after, the woman sighing as she brought a hand to gently stroke his cheek. It was a complete 180. “You’re here because we never got to talk about our relationship, honey. You decided that you were better off alone, I’m showing you that you’re safer here with me.” She offered a smile. “You will not leave me this time, Spencer. We can be happy!”

Despite his survival instincts telling him to play along, he couldn’t. “W-we broke up for a reason.” There was a waiver to his voice, fear. “Right. Then I got arrested for domestic abuse. I just think you’re dramatic.” She stated in a simple tone, her hand dropping from his cheek. Obsessive Love Disorder was a dangerous thing, something that if left untreated, would cause nothing but pain.

“I mean, what kind of man lets his girlfriend hit him without fighting back? A weak man. It’s sad. Don’t worry though, we are gonna have a lot of fun!” She mused while moving to brush her hair back from her face. Her nonchalant behavior was chilling, how heartless she could be. 

Spencer was young when they’d initially gotten together, that being his first serious relationship. Things started normal, they got along and went on dates. She essentially love bombed him from the beginning, he was just too naive to notice what was going on. It was a year of joy and peace, the two enjoying each other's presence enough to the point where Spencer felt prepared to take the next step. He moved in with her. 

That was when the hell started. The psychological torment, the physical abuse, and emotional manipulation was that of a cinder block tied to his ankles, ready to be thrown overboard and left without a trace. The weight of the relationship almost killed him. She would put loaded guns to his head, sadistically laughing and taunting him by acting as if she would really shoot him. There were some nights where he wished that she did. It would be his only shot at peace. 

When he left the first time, he got extremely lucky. He got to use the excuse that the BAU needed him after he’d spent so much time planning for his escape. He elicited in JJ’s help, his best friend at work who he’d broken down to on a particularly stressful case. He thought that getting arrested would set her straight, get her checked out by a psychologist or something and calmed down with proper medication. 

Naivety. He knew that someone couldn’t be helped unless they wanted it. 

That was abundantly clear now that he was in this predicament. 

All he could think of was that he’d never go home, nor would he ever be able to see his mom, JJ, Emily, or any of his beloved team again. It brought tears to his eyes, thinking that nobody knew where he was. He was supposed to be in a classroom with promising students that would change the world. What if they didn’t even notice that he was gone? By the time his year's sabbatical was over, it would be far too late. He’d be a rotting corpse buried in a random backyard.

“You’re crying.. Oh, sweetheart..” The sudden movement of her body inching closer caused the man to flinch, eyes widening as he leaned back against the chair he was bound to. “You really don’t trust me?” She had the audacity to sound hurt, as if she didn’t have him tied to a chair. “This is ridiculous, Spencer. You are just as weak as I could remember. I thought being in your forties, you would be stronger.” She sighed while her hand was roughly grabbing his hair to pull it back, the male being forced to meet her gaze.

“We are going to fix that. I’m going to train you into being better.” She spat as a frown spread across her face. Spencer knew his body was tense, his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. “Since you don’t listen..” She began, a sad sigh falling from her lips. “I need to go through our first lesson.” She stated as she walked away. For a moment, Spencer could feel a blind hope that things would be okay. That her punishment would just be her leaving. 

Spencer could only hear the rapid beat of his heart, the blood in his veins running cold. There was no way out. When she came back over, he inspected the object in her hand. The shiny metal of the scissors had his body shuddering in fear, eyes trained on her every movement. He made an effort to try and weasel away from her touch, however the rough hold on his shirt was keeping him in place. Was she going to plunge the tool deep into his chest cavity? She could stab him in the heart with enough force or a lung even. She caught him by surprise.

The blade ran over the shirt covering the male’s lanky torso before she offered a smile. “Relax. I’m not gonna stab you with scissors, that would be too easy.” She giggled, as if the idea was humorous. Instead of stabbing him, she was using the utensil to cut off the sweater from his torso, her idea of taking away his dignity seemed to be undressing him. Of course, she wanted him to be uncomfortable, embarrassed. It was the only way to break him and force him into submission. She would feed off of fear and he felt like he sustained her enough. 

Like an eagle stalking its next prey, Spencer kept his eyes on her, watching every movement she made while mentally preparing himself for the worst. When she’d reached on a nearby table and picked up what looked to be a taser, it was enough for Spencer to let his eyes fall shut tightly. She was planning on torturing him by shocking him, that had to be it. 

The crackle of electricity coming from the device had her smiling, holding it up to proudly display it. “First rule, you need to learn how to take everything the world will give you. Let’s see if that old man's heart can handle a few shocks, hmm?” It looked like a law enforcement level weapon, one that had stronger shockwaves than the typical ones that could be purchased in a store. Before Spencer could try to plead, he was feeling the watts of electricity surge through his veins, the violence of it causing his body to thrash. With his eyes rolled to the back of his head, he tried thinking of his mom. How happy she’d be when he got home, how excited she’d be to tell him about how her life was going. 

His body was convulsing as the taser was pulled away from his neck, the male breathing hard as he was doing his damndest to keep himself together. A deep groan emerged from his throat as he slowly lifted his tired head, glossed over eyes facing the woman who was planning on making him miserable. “I’m.. Really shocked that you went through that without passing out. I mean, I had it pressed there for three minutes. The pain typically would elicit more reaction. At least, that’s what I’ve learned from other friends down here..” She was letting her head tilt to the side, reminiscent of a puppy who had so much curiosity. “Let’s see if you can last longer! This will be great research!” 

The lesson went on for an hour, off and on subjecting the male to enough electricity to make his heart burst in his chest. By the grace of God and fighting for his life, he made it. The devil reincarnate was satisfied, feeding off the pure agony displayed in Spencer’s pupils. He could hide fear but he couldn’t hide excruciating pain. The way his eyes were tightly squeezed shut, he was shaking slightly in his spot. There was amusement in her eyes, a grin on her face as she was bringing her hands to his cheeks.

In his weak state, he didn’t flinch.

**

“So that’s where the scars come from. Oh, Spencer..” Marianne was frowning while looking at the male, the man looking visibly distressed by having to tap into those memories that he so desperately tried to forget. The pain and torture he’d went through was enough to break even the strongest of people. 

“That’s where those scars come from, right. She repeatedly used the taser against my neck and chest.” His voice was shaky as he was giving an explanation, the purple scarf draped around his neck slowly being removed to show off the marks the prongs left behind. 

“There was more. She burned my skin with the taser but she had something else. She called it a toy, something she had joy in using on me. She claimed.. She claimed it marked me as hers.” He explained, fingers slowly messing with a loose thread on his cardigan. 

“Would you like to discuss it or should we hold off until another session?” The woman asked, a sympathetic look etched on her face as she studied Spencer’s mannerisms. “Because I don’t expect to know about it today if you aren’t ready. You’ve opened up a lot today.”

“No, I can, uh, explain it to you. I just.. I’m a little nervous to relive it.”

Anyone would be.

**

Spencer was sitting in the chair, his back in an unbelievable amount of pain for sitting upright for six days now. The lessons that they had in that basement consisted of a taser being pushed roughly into flesh, Spencer’s body weak and exhausted after what felt like hours of being shocked. His body could only take so much more before he was rendered fully weak, unable to help himself. His eyelids were heavy, so tired yet he couldn’t sleep. 

The sleep deprivation had been settling in, sanity slowly beginning to disappear while the male fought the urge to sleep. He had to be awake, aware. However in his delirious state, he was going down the path of madness. 

“Gideon, I just wanna get out of here but I’m slowly losing faith.” The genius’ voice slurred, looking over at the man who was standing in front of him. The man who he knew was dead, yet.. Here he was, right in front of him. “You’re going to get out of here, Reid. Just put yourself in her shoes. What is she gaining?” 

The words had the male slowly letting his head lull to the side, heavy eyes slowly closing. “She wants to break me psychologically. To make me a slave.” He responded to the ghost of his mentor. “Right. Do not let her break you. Fight. Your team will be here. Garcia has always known where to find people. Between you and I, I’m pretty sure she has a tracker inside everyone on earth.” The words made Spencer laugh tiredly, keeping his eyes shut. “She probably does.. I could see it.” He spoke softly, shifting in his chair.

The lighter ceased as soon as he could hear the heavy door being shoved open, the metal door hitting the wall was enough to make his head shoot up. Jason was gone, yet she was here. 

“You’re awake! That’s so good. We have spent so much time together that I’ve been thinking of something special to give you.” She offered a wide smile as she was going to the wall behind him, a furnace being there this whole time that he just couldn’t see. “I got this whenever I had the farm. Do you remember that?” The words made his heart nearly stop as she stepped in front of him while holding the object to show off. A cattle iron. “I figured that I’d show you my most prized toy. Not many people have ever seen it!” She offered a wide smile. 

“Since we have been having so much fun together, I want to give you something to definitely remember. You’ll never forget.” She cooed, finger tapping his nose while she hummed in satisfaction. The fear in his eyes thoroughly satisfied her. “Alright. Let’s get this heated up, shall we?” As it was placed in the flame across the room though, the male was quiet while trying to keep himself calm and collected. The tears running down his face didn’t quite get the memo.

“Don’t look so scared. I promise that it’s not that big, it’s just got my name and a nice little heart. It’ll be like a tattoo!” He offered a wide smile while taking the metal out of the fire while approaching the shirtless mail. “W-wait! Let’s talk about this! You don’t need to do this!” The burn would be severe enough to never heal, to haunt him forever.

His body was shaking the minute she spared no mercy, the burning metal being pushed into his skin with force. It was enough to make Spencer scream in pain, the sickening sound of his skin sizzling and the putrid smell of burning flesh and hair filling the small room. His hands were shaking, the rope now cutting deep into the skin to draw blood as he tried to thrash in place to make it stop.

The movements made the chair give way, the man falling back and his head roughly slamming into the cement floor. The pain was enough to make it feel like his brain had fallen from his head, the brain matter decorating the floor and this being his last few minutes. It wasn’t physically possible and he knew that.

His head was bleeding, the blood pooling on the floor behind his head. Thankfully not a cracked skull. She’d pulled him to sit up in the chair once more before she was using her first aid knowledge to stop the bleeding and patch him up. 

“You definitely have a concussion.” She scolded, noticing his blown out pupils and his general dizziness. 

**

“She burned you?” 

“She branded me.” 

The words came out slowly as Spencer’s shaking hands were slowly pulling up the top he had on while showing off the scarred skin that was scabbed over, the man having a horrible habit of picking at it. Even if it was a year old, he felt like it was fresh. He could remember the way his skin bubbled, the way he could feel the indention singe into his chest.The woman’s eyes were wide, seeing the damage done. In addition to the branded flesh, there were numerous puncture-like wounds. She assumed it came from more ‘toys’ that this sick bitch collected.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about after?” Her words were soft, ignoring the clock on the wall signaling their session was over and she could go home for the day. She’d never had Spencer open up like this in this capacity. He explained in such graphic and gory detail that she could understand the dark descent of madness that he felt himself slipping into. The depression of knowing that there was always someone just like her out there. Some other helpless victim being trapped and not being lucky enough to get help like he did.

“Everything was pretty much a repeat after that night, honestly Up until I made her think that she broke me completely.” 

**

It had been nearly a year, Spencer being subjected to being damn near electrocuted on a daily basis, the sharp blade of a steak knife puncturing his skin in non-fatal areas, even the times where she would hold a gun to his head, making him promise that he was hers. That he wasn’t leaving her again.

Spencer felt no pain anymore. His body was numb, even the deep cuts puncturing his flesh feeling like the average bee-sting from him having it done so much. He had no tears left to cry, his emotions disappearing about a month after his captivation. He was brutally beaten, stabbed, scratched, even burned with lighters to a point where he couldn’t feel. 

The wounds would heal over then be reopened for more sadistic pleasure of rubbing things like salt, dirt, lemon juice, among other things. 

Infection hadn’t killed him yet, so he took it as some sign of faith that he wasn’t meant to die here. 

“You know, kid. I’m really worried about you.” Derek was talking to him today, the male looking up at the ceiling while sucking in a breath. “I know. I’m starting to worry about myself too.. What if the team isn't looking for me? They surely expect me to be completely radio silent to work on my life outside of the team.” His throat was sore, surely from the nights where he’d just scream, scream to get every ounce of pain and hurt built up over the year out. 

“They are looking. You think Garcia would ever give up on you? Come on, kid.” The scolding made Spencer offer a small smile. “You’re right. I mean, P-Penelope would never give up on me.”

Spencer had faced death about a million times before, however this was different. After a year of conditioning and brutality, he never felt so close to death. It seemed inviting, the thought of just.. Maybe drifting off and ending all the suffering there. 

“Kid. I know you are weak but don’t you die on me. On us. What will Hank do without his favorite uncle? Or what about Henry and Michael? Do you really want to make them face losing you? Or your mama, man. Think about her!” Not-Derek was probably the last piece of rationality that Spencer had left. 

“Look. It’s self defense if you kill her now. Think about it, you have proof she subjected you to pain and suffering. Why not get her back? You haven’t slept in weeks, man. Weeks.” The sleep came in small doses, mainly because he had no idea what would happen when he was asleep, unconscious to the vile nature of what she did to him. Best to be awake when a knife is shoved so deep in his shoulder, it hits the bone. 

“W-what?” Was he telling himself to kill her? No, no. Spencer couldn’t do that! He was a good man, just troubled. However the more he thought about it, the more the festering rage built inside of him. Why should he die here? 

That was when the plan was in motion. The next time she came down was a full day later, having water and food along with the knife that she loved to use all too much on the helpless man. “Have you actually gotten sleep?! Spence!” The woman smiled widely while clasping her hands together, eventually grabbing the glass to let him sip from the straw. Spencer was weak, his head slowly bobbing as he looked up at her through his tired eyes. Even with the exhaustion, he knew that he was going to get out of there. Alive or dead, he’d leave that god damn basement. He’d contemplated all his options. If he was weak enough, she’d untie him to accompany him to the bathroom. “Can I uh, go pee?” He asked, voice still hoarse and low.

Seemingly, his plan was working because she was grabbing the knife. “I trust you, Spence, so I’ll let you up.” She mused while offering a smile. “Do you think that you will be good enough to be let up permanently? You’re honestly such a good boy now, I have to grant you some sort of luxury.” 

Yeah. Fucking luxury. So much luxury that he would be able to feel her blood seep into his bruised and battered skin, akin to a hand moisturizer. She made him like this. She created the monster inside of him that was bursting from its confinements. Prison hurt him in ways indescribable but this experience completely ripped out any form of compassion or empathy. There was rage, the burning inside of his chest from the overwhelming emotion.

The minute the ropes were cut, Spencer examined his wrists briefly, waiting for her to cut the ropes on his ankles. The rope burn was deep, dried blood from his violent thrashing decorating the tan restraint and leaving deep marks on his flesh. 

The freedom to move felt so fucking good. However his legs were dreadfully asleep. He didn’t realize that until he tried to stand to ambush his captor, only falling directly on top of her while letting out a yelp. The blade had gone deep into his side from the fall, however the adrenaline coursing through his veins made it tolerable. Rolling off of her body, he was taking in a deep breath before the blade was being torn from his side by his right hand, rolling on top of the stunned woman. 

There was darkness in his eyes, an unfathomable amount of rage that made him look no better than the likes of George Foyet. “Lesson one, don’t trust people.” His words were low, his pupils being blown out as he brought the blade down to slam into her chest. The sounds of agonizing screams filling the room brought a twisted smile to his face. “What? You’re too weak to handle it?! It’s okay! We will fix that!” The past year of pain and suffering was being unleashed back onto the woman who came far too close to killing him. The knife plunged deep into her chest cavity a whopping total of sixty times. There was crimson red all over his hands, face and chest along with the pool on the floor. He’d stabbed her lungs first, making her last few moments agonizing as she drowned in her own blood from the inside. The cries and gurgles had Spencer laughing with glee, continuing to mumble the same twisted phrases he’d heard after being shocked, burned, stabbed, and threatened with a firearm. 

By the time the team had actually gotten there, he’d continued stabbing the lifeless corpse while muttering and laughing. Emily couldn’t even go near him from the fear he’d turn on her. With Luke and Matt pulling him off of her, the male was spitting up blood, the wound from earlier worsening the more the adrenaline wore off. “We need a medic!” Luke was the one yelling, him and Matt carrying Spencer out. 

**

The final pieces of the story had Marianne in shock. She’d heard bits and pieces but seeing Spencer smile while retelling the end of his journey, it was chilling. This wasn’t the sweet man who had entered the room two hours ago. This was a man who lived in perpetual darkness. A man who let a monster consume him in that basement.

“Is that all? Do I need to tell you more details?” The male asked, sitting up straighter.This part he had no problem discussing, making the woman slowly reach under her desk to hit a button. That was when the doors were opening and one of the nurses were coming in. “Alright Dr. Reid, let’s take you back to your room!” She said in a cheery voice, hand gently grabbing his arm to urge him to stand. He didn’t fight back. “I’ll be seeing you next week, Marianne. Maybe we can talk about Cat there too. Wouldn’t you like to know the last victim?” 

“Dr. Reid.” The nurse scolded while leading him out. 

** 

“It’s obvious that Mr. Reid is not well, a year full of torture has left him mentally unstable to the point he is lashing out on everyone he sees. We can’t have this behavior continue. I’m sending him to the Western State Psychiatric Hospital indefinitely.” The judge’s decision had the BAU team gasping from their seats, Penelope’s eyes welling up with tears at the thought of the team losing their best agents and closest friends.

Spencer however had no feelings, instead stone faced as he stared at the woman giving her verdict. 

They’d lost him a long time ago. So long that he had no desire to look back at his team. If they loved him, they would have found him sooner, they would have fought harder to find him. 

He was alone.

He’d always be alone.

[marshvlovestv]

This started out as a silly post but then it turned into me rambling about a character I am very not normal about.

Given that he was more proportional in his memories, I choose to interpret Fred's weird stubby little arms as a sort of visual representation of the fact that he no longer has full use of his arms and hands after years of them being contained in a straitjacket, possibly without any breaks.

Augh, now that I'm on the subject I can't help but think about why he's even wearing a straitjacket in the first place (besides the obvious answer of the devs not fully understanding the garment's purpose and just using it as a shorthand for "crazy guy lol"). I say this knowing that straitjackets are basically torture devices and no one should have to wear one, dangerous or not, but of the Thorney Towers patients, Fred is far and away the least obviously dangerous to himself or others. So why would he need to be restrained?

Do you think maybe he requested it, in an early moment of lucidity? He was an orderly at the asylum, after all, who more than likely had experience fitting patients with straitjackets. He was obviously not a bad guy and pretty well-meaning in his job, but I still imagine he was pretty... ignorantly complicit in the abuse going on, because he didn't have the expertise to know better than his orders and went along with it because that's what the doctors said to do. He just knew "straitjackets are what we give to crazy people," and as he felt his own mind going, he was afraid and asked that he be given one because he couldn't recognize his own needs.

Ugh. The "failure to live up to family legacy" thing is interesting but Fred being a former employee of the asylum is the layer of his character that I really love. It's a little bit karmic, but mostly tragic and very sad, to see someone who was once complicit in an abusive system become a victim of that system themself.

In conclusion Fred Bonaparte makes me want to pull my hair out. I like him very much :) But his hands are weird

[darklinaforever]

The fact that Aegon is a r*pist (in the series, this strange story from the books about a twelve-year-old girl can hardly be considered r*pe) does not make him a less interesting character, especially in the books (I chose TG after reading them and there his story is amazing). If he's not your cup of tea - okay, but people can love any characters and their feelings are valid, it doesn't mean they justify r*pists or something lol. It's especially strange to hear something like that from a person who likes Darkling, who abused Alina and Kylo, who did the same with Rey. Double standards?

What amazing stories for the Greens ? They don't have an amazing story. Compare to the characters of the Blacks team ?!

Also, yes, fictional characters being rapists can be interesting. It's the truth. Like Kilgrave from Jessica Jones, notably through his extremely frightening power of control. But who exactly is interesting about Aegon II ? One of his descriptions is that he drinks, likes to eat, rapes, no taste for responsibility. He is also a hypocritical character (In the sense if he really said that line about how a brother should not take his sister's throne. Because if he said it, he is a hypocrite for then ardently wanting to keep power for himself even afterwards. Or maybe it's simply an invention of pro-Green propaganda by Eustace to try to soften this asshole, making him even worse than hypocrite). And on top of that, he's not particularly intelligent from what I remember.

And yes, it is certain that this 11 / 12 year old girl, named girl, a sign that she was not considered a woman but a child, completely consented to the fact that a prince superior to her wanted to sleep with her ! No doubt she was fully consenting at last ! Aegon II is also a rapist in the book ! Whether you like it or not !

Oh. And you know the Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo aren't ? Rapists. (Kylo Ren is even a victim of grooming by Snoke / Palpatine in fact) So no. I don't have double standards. You are just someone who obviously doesn't know how to think.

And yes. The people who are team greens trying to justify the fact that Aegon II is a rapist. I had one try to tell me that Aegon II was either not a rapist at all, or that he had just sexually assaulted servants, which is apparently very commonplace for a prince ! All while trying to say that Daemon is the real rapist without a doubt ! So again, yes. They are trying to justify, or simply accuse another character of being.

And the simple fact that you sent this private message to try to tell me that no Aegon II can hardly be seen as a rapist in the book and that it is only in the series... Something canonically false, while trying blaming me for my love of other characters who aren't rapists, trying to say I have double standards, is an attempt of justification.

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, he is a character who has been abused and manipulated (groomed) since he was a fetus to be forced to switch to the dark side, eventually obtaining redemption.

Also, Kylo Ren abuses Rey when exactly ? During the so-called torture that Kylo allegedly subjected Rey to in episode 7 ? From 1, they are at war. 2, they are enemies. 3, Rey has information that could be valuable to Kylo's side, it's literally his job to interrogate Rey. And 4, he was gentle and careful with her, avoiding hurting her. So damn, we have to stop with this stupid "torture" scene. What exactly do you think the TRUE torture scene of Poe by Kylo at the beginning of the film was there for ? It served as a contrast to Rey's situation later. Poe was beaten and had his mind searched in an extremely painful manner. Rey was having none of that. Do you want a real scene of torture suffered by Rey ? Snoke in The Last Jedi, or this time, Rey screams in pain like Poe when his mind is invaded. And if you come to point out all the times Kylo and Rey fought, should I remind you that it's war and they're in enemy because they are in different camps ? Just the basic thing that forces them to be against each other ?

For the Darkling, he is a complex / gray character, who basically does bad things with an essentially altruistic goal, namely saving his Grisha people and his Ravka country, and who Leigh Bardugo herself cannot call a pure villain.

Also, like Reylo, Darklina are on opposing sides during a war. Does it make sense that they are not always gentle with each other ? No ?

The link between the character of Aegon II, rapist and 100% villain of the Green team and the two characters that are the Darkling and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo exactly ?!

[briochebrioche]

Shin Sekai Yori ( I wanted to have a happy Friday )

First off, I would like to say that the cover of this anime having 5 smiling kids is false advertisement (it did not make me smile). The anime is a dark depiction of a society that has decided to control its population in a very immoral way using brainwashing and genetic modification. For me, the two biggest social critiques in this anime are prejudice and the idea of  the “wild child”.

The children of this world are an object of fear due to the uncertainty they come with. Because the society is ruled by those who have the psychokinetic powers of Cantus, they put some contingency plans in place to avoid violent abuse of the powers. Mainly, these come of in the form of the death feedback and attack inhibition. If a child can’t control their powers (karmic demon) or they’re able to use their powers against humans (Fiends/Ogres), then these really scary cats are used to kill them. Then, all traces of those kids ever existing are wiped from the other children’s memories. The people in power are so afraid of a violent uprising or potential threat that they are willing to kill any child that may show signs of becoming one. It’s kind of like Psycho-Pass, except more heartless, being killed for a crime you haven’t committed. It’s an exaggeration of the real-world fear parents have of their children turning out to be delinquents or criminals. Especially with things like school shootings in recent years, a close eye is being kept on the young population.

The other thing I feel is very important is the idea of a prejudiced society to an extreme. In this world, the humans who did not develop powers were genetically modified into these mole-rat-human hybrids that essentially worked like slaves for the humans. Although originally being humans themselves, they are treated as nothing but dispensable beasts. In the end of the show, Squealer is sentenced to a lifetime of extreme torture as punishment for the violent uprising he led. Everyone thought he got what he deserved, and nobody even questioned the cruelty of the punishment. Once Saki discovers the truth about the mutated humans, she visits Squealer in order to kill him and end his suffering. This is significant because Saki receives no death feedback from this action, despite knowing that Squealer is technically human (even though this is the exact trick she used to kill the Messiah). This means that even then, she did not consider him a real human, showing how deeply rooted this prejudice was. It felt like his cries for equality fell on deaf ears.

This, along with the war that happens in the show, reminds me of real-world campaigns for xenophobia. Particularly, the Japanese during WWII who took part in war crimes. During this time, the Japanese military had this idea of “if you’re not Japanese, you’re not human”. The most intense example of this was unit 731, a facility that specialized in extremely violent and cruel experiments using human subjects. The victims here were referred to as “maruta” or “logs” in order to further desensitize the staff to the horrors being committed. It really was just an awful display of how desensitization and a feeling of superiority can bring out the worst in people.

Overall, the show does a good job in portraying how a fixation on power and control can ruin a society.

[megidonitram]

Ao3 | Ask | Other

Baldur's Gate 3 Fics

My Tav(s): Lydia Silverwarden

My Durge(s): Xenia Bellona

Everyone's Running From Something

Rating: M

Alternate Universe: University Professors

Main Paring: Bloodweave

Trope Tags: Friends to Lovers/Coworkers to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

Additional Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, M!Tav/F!Tav, (Past) Gale/Mystra, (Past) Astarion/Sebastian, (Past) Astarion/F!Tav

Summary:

Balduran University is a small school in a sleepy little town. People choose it for the small class sizes and the peaceful campus life. Astarion liked it because it was far away from home and the people he'd rather not think about anymore. He had a good thing going for himself for a while: a job in his chosen field, students to terrorize, and admin staff he could pick fights with when things got too boring. It was a lonely life, but at least it belonged to him. Gale thought it would be a good place to find himself and his passion again after clumsily exiting a relationship that had dominated the majority of his adult life. Perhaps they end up with a lot more than they bargained for when they are forced to share an office and end up unlikely mentors to a troubled young student with a dark a brutal past.

**Content Warnings**

This is an M-rated fic that deals with sensitive themes and subject matter. While most things tagged will not be directly present in the narrative, the reader is encouraged to use their own discretion.

Adoption Trauama, Child Abuse, Childhood Torture, Death of a Side Character, Disordered Eating, Grad Student/Professor Relationship, Hypersexuality, Involuntary Commitment, Institutional Discrimination, Mental Health Breakdown, Murder, PTSD, Self Harm, Sexual Coercion

Ao3 Link

Chapter List-

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6

The Pale Elf & The Silver Teifling (Series)

Rating: M to E

Pairing: Astarion/F!Tav (Lydia)

Ao3 link

Intimate

“Astarion, there is so much more to like about you than just the sex.” Lydia took his face in her hands and pressed her lips against him. “You’re charming… you’re intelligent… you’re funny… you’re thoughtful in your own strange way...” She punctuated each statement with another kiss until there were no more words, just the warmth of her lips against his over and over again like a declaration of the many thousands of little, nameless things that made Astarion worthy of love.

Summary: A loosely related and out-of-order collection of different intimate moments between my Tav: Lydia, and Astarion. As horrible and wonderful as it always is to grow to know another person.

Ao3 Link

Just Dessert

"though I am starting to wonder how much trouble you're really in, darling?” Astarion asked. His fingers trailed up her side to stroke the ticklish spots along the bony ridges of her ribs, causing Lydia to squirm in his grasp. “I mean, you haven’t even tried asking me-or whatever’s holding you captive- to let you go. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted this.”

Summary: Alternately, Astarion and Lydia are fooling around after a night out. (sequel to ch. 4 of Intimate, Dinner and Dessert)

Ao3 Link

Blackberry Wine & Summer Mead

“If you want to try something like this again, we can always start smaller- when you feel ready for it, of course. You might feel more comfortable if it’s just you, me, and someone we trust.”

“Hmmm…” Astarion leaned back to study Lydia's expression while he mulled over the suggestion. “… I might be interested, depending on who you had in mind.”

Summary: After their encounter with the Orlith twins doesn't go exactly as planned, Asterion and Lydia try again in a safer, saner context.

Ao3 Link

The Blade of Fronters & The Bane of The Gates

Rating: M to E

Pairing: Wyll/F!The Dark Urge (Xenia)

~✨coming soon✨~

[dandelion-wings]

Whyyyyy won't you write the test subject au!?

I am literally so hooked already, I need more than just scraps of information about it.

Don't get me wrong, I do love using my own imagination and can very much just expand upon this au in my own mind, but there's just something more relaxing about getting to read about it.

I by no means aim to pressure you into writing it! I accept that if you really can't be asked, but please just answer me these, dearest Tumblr user dandelion-wings.com:

- please describe what they did to him at the Akademiya. I sound like a sadist when I say this (I promise I'm not) but I love reading about the torture characters go through because it helps me understand their pain and trauma better.

- does Kaeya meet Diluc again? In the first part you did say Kaeya ran away to Sumeru age 11, so I assume that follows canon event, which means he had been in the Ragnvindr household for some time before capture. So does he recognise Diluc when he sees him again? I've imagined this whole emotional ass scene where they see eachother again for the first time in six-ish years and it made me tear up.

- does Crepus live in this au? (listen. I am a sucker for ragbros and their family, okay!) I assume the Ragnvindr household reacted in some way when Kaeya went missing, seeing as he was a somewhat major part of their lives. Maybe Diluc's birthday plans were different and he never died to the delusion and Ursa the Drake. Perhaps he is still alive and Kaeya recognises him and then Crepus promises to bring hell upon whoever left his son in that state.

- I assume Kaeya makes a good recovery. Does he still join the Knights? I'm not sure they'd let him in with only one arm with missing fingers, but then again it is the nation of freedom so who knows. What does he end up doing?

Many thanks, I love the au,

Friend of the stars <3

Mostly because I have so many WIPs and AUs already (including an entirely different one where someone removes Kaeya's fingers), and I work too jobs, I cannot write all of them! "I'm not going to write this" is a mantra against things I do not have the time to write even though I want to. XD;; It may well go into the warm-ups rotation, tbh. The other reason is that it's a lot darker and iddier than I usually post on main and I always get very anxious about idfic/kinkfic stuff (if I hadn't been so compelled to try and exorcise it with the Compressed Version that totally did not make me stop thinking about the Longer Version I probably would not have posted about it at all). Like, I spent a very serious five minutes looking at this ask thinking, "man, this is going on main, should I sanitize it any" before deciding that the of-questionable-taste parts are essential to my enjoyment and, so, well. I am not going to.

Which means that the rest of this is under a cut and trigger warnings for that first answer include, along with the requisite medical experimentation, dismemberment/mutilation, suicidal thoughts/actions, and sexual abuse/trauma.

The highlights of the research team's activities:

To start with before anything else because this is ongoing and general: confinement, obviously, constant restraint (growing increasingly severe over time, c.f. the shock-collar, which is movement-sensitive and just kept getting turned up over the years), and a caloric intake just barely sufficient for continued functioning, because it is harder for a starving person to fight back. Also, at least once the curse was induced, they did not at any point use anesthesia/pain relief because "pain response is an important scientific datapoint."

I haven't decided how they eventually did manage to induce the curse, but initial attempts were straight-up torture, in the hopes that sufficient negative emotion and/or fear for his life would trigger it. You can insert whatever you like here, but I personally am a perennial fan of waterboarding and near-drowning.

When it did finally trigger, it was first visible in his right eye, which promptly got removed for analysis. Fortunately for him, Anatoli wanted to see if it would spread to the left (it has, thus far, not).

It then started manifesting in his right hand, spreading up his arm (if this sounds a lot like the specifics of Cursed Transformation: I went with very similar mechanisms, why build from the ground up when I've already done some thinking about it), and as soon as it was established above his right wrist, he lost the last two fingers on both hands for a side-by-side comparison. It continued to spread, both up the arm and, once it reached the shoulder, appearing patchily elsewhere on his body. There were more tissue samples taken consistently over the next four years; most of them were smaller than whole fingers, but some were fairly significant chunks (he is probably also short a toe or two but Anatoli had his extremity data at that point, he wanted a variety of sites).

Despite the starvation diet, he did hit puberty in here. At which point both the sexual abuse and additional mutilation show up, because Anatoli's chief research assistant and second-in-command decided to "conduct tests of his sexual response as the curse progressed," which was 100% a "if you write it down you can call it science" excuse for rape. Which, because he was being very consistently dehumanized here (it is significantly easier for most people to carve into a terrified child if you convince yourself they're a monster, not a person), she pulled off in part by treating him more like a person than anyone else in the lab, which did not help him trust Lisa later on.

Concurrently he was both hitting a growth spurt and developing actual powers to go with the curse, and Anatoli was already considering castration with the hope that it would, as in animals, make him more docile. Discovering her 'research' made him decide, not that maybe he should fire his chief research assistant, but instead that he didn't really want to risk being accused of breeding monsters, and. so.

(One of my guilty pleasures in whump-rescue fic is the Rescuee, with no idea what their rescuer is getting out of this, offering them sexual favors as 'repayment,' and this is my idfic so that 100% happens here. And then Lisa's rebuff fucks Kaeya up in its own way because he associated the chief assistant leaving off, some time afterwards as he got too old for her tastes, and immediately dropping all pretense of seeing him as a person, with further advancement of his curse moving him from the 'human, thus desirable' to 'inhuman, thus no longer desirable' category. So at least initially it read to him as, Lisa talks a good game, but clearly she doesn't think he's human enough to touch like that anymore either.)

Incidentally 'I am no longer human enough to even be worth being touched (in ways I didn't like but that I've nonetheless been taught to associate with humanity)' was the main trigger for the first of the three suicide attempts in Anatoli's custody. Others followed, because every time the curse intensified there were more tissue samples, and more restraints on him, and horrible tests of his powers and general physical capabilities, and so on.

At some point they made him kill animals and, later, hilichurls (and Kaeya knows exactly what hilichurls are) to see what he was capable of. A lot of the power-testing was Bad in general because he didn't want to help, and so the efforts made to overcome his sullenness on the subject were very much of the 'push him until he loses control' variety. He still has a lot of Issues around handling animals. :)

Taking most of his right arm off was actually not for Anatoli's research. Anatoli and his team were all Spantamad; he was acquainted with an Amurta researcher who wanted a sample. That Kaeya was starting to grow claws on the remaining fingers of that arm, and that the Cryo veining was most vivid there and the Abyssal powers were clearly linked directly to it, and that those powers were growing stronger and threatened to eventually overwhelm the wards they were capable of, were... significant contributing factors. Half the reason Anatoli allowed Lisa onto the team, despite her associations with her very anti-human-experimentation mentor, was because she had a Vision and was significantly better at magical wards than anyone else interested. And it looked like they were going to need that sooner or later.

To answer the second and third questions together, I honestly have not thought tremendously far past the return-to-Mondstadt part of the plot, but we have determined that he does not meet Diluc at that time, because things in Mondstadt progress as in canon, including Crepus' death. And the timing is such that, after Kaeya has chosen Mondstadt (Lisa wanted Mondstadt, but gave him options because it seemed clear that he needed to feel like he'd made a choice) in large part because he has fond memories and a desperate hope that Crepus might have some sympathy, Lisa and Kaeya arrive in Stone Gate in time to hear that that Dawn Winery is closed because it's in mourning for Crepus, and its young master has recently passed through going the other way. :>

Though the household did react to Kaeya going missing those six years ago! Crepus spent months upon months in Sumeru hiring everyone he could to scour the place, and Kaeya knows that because Anatoli went out of his way to wipe out his test subject's trail in terror that Crepus might have the leverage to get the Akademiya to make him give him up. Which is why he'd hoped Crepus might, at the very minimum, give them shelter and/or give Lisa some money, despite the whole 'Abyssal taint' thing. He was banking very, very hard on 'even if I can't repay Lisa for getting me out myself, Crepus can afford to.' Finding out that he'd just died, that Kaeya had just missed seeing him alive, was devastating and triggered suicide attempt #5.

TBH I am not sure he makes a 'good' recovery per se! It depends on your definition, but like, while he does spend a good few years getting help unpicking his trauma, he still has plenty by the time of game start. I don't think he joins the Knights directly, as a knight; I don't know exactly how things wrap up (theabysscomeshome and I have talked through to the Dramatic Final Confrontation of what would be the second fic if I was writing it, but not the aftermath), but while Lisa becomes Ordo Librarian once the risk of extradition to Sumeru is cleared up, if Kaeya joins at all it's in some kind of auxiliary role.

Lisa does get him a catalyst early on, and he learns eventually how to channel his Cryo through it so he can disguise the source, and thus is fighting-capable, but in all honesty this may be another AU where he joins Benny's Adventure Team, because he fucking loves Bennett. Whenever he says something that he thought was normal and everyone else looks horrified by, Bennett blithely responds with some almost-as-horrifying anecdote of a bad-luck incident. Bennett lets him help with his chores and equipment maintenance, and whenever Kaeya fumbles things because he has all of three fingers, Bennett blames his own bad luck and apologizes for it. Bennett, all of twelve years old at the time, full-on attempted to fight the celebrated Captain Jean Gunnhildr for the sake of Kaeya's freedom. Kaeya mostly gives up on killing himself as a solution to every problem because he realizes it's entirely possible that Bennett will blame himself, and that would be intolerable.

(Bennett's reaction to Diluc, when he returns, is way more similar to Kaeya's initial reaction to Razor than Kaeya thought he was actually capable of.)

So, yeah! I don't know entirely where it goes, but I don't think he's a standard Knight in this AU at any point. (Among other things, he flat-out refuses to fight or kill hilichurls.) He may end up being on-call for them in some capacity, he may become an adventurer with Bennett and just drop any useful info he picks up into Lisa's ear to share with Jean, he may end up a library assistant, I'm not sure. And he does, regardless, do the same 'using his linguistic knowledge/Abyss associations to gather information on the Abyss Order's movements' thing for them. But even with the catalyst he honestly doesn't meet physical-capability standards, and he doesn't want to be directly within a command structure, so I don't think the Knights are right for him.

[radical-sainthood]

Hshhs yea. I wasn't increadibly familiar with the source but he showed up anyway. Annndddd now, as I am also a fictive from an entirely different source, a cursed crack ship has been realized. I've noticed that treating him like, you know, a fucking living being helps a lot. (even though he doesn't exactly know how to handle it and its adorable and I am unwell. I am trying so hard to not babble about the fucking bastard. /aff) Im just frusterated murder isn't in my pool of options, since, as you can probably guess, I'm loyal to like... attack dog levels . And just a litttllleee deranged. ANYWAY POINT BEING. Thank you for confirming my suspicions so I can help him better, he deserves to get better, I will help him get better, gods above and below WITNESS ME- *gets tranqued* (/silly)

Any way, as for the details. I'm generally unsure of the actual trauma, but I am aware of my own urges and such. You already know about the complexes I'm working with, but on top of that: urges to s/h when I feel i'm not doing "good enough" (I've been clean a while!! But the urges are still there.) I also will desire to be harmed in a sexual context despite hating that. Luckily I've determined that if I ask for that, it means I'm in a bad headspace and the activity needs to stop before I use it against myself. I also have been restricting food and sleep recently, which bitch boy over here (/aff), has been on me about.

We also can't really split organically, blanks just come and go. I wish you luck by the way, don't overdo it if you need to traumatize yourselves to split, it is very important you take care of you first and foremost.

Also: dgsyhfgesufgvyerafhrk >w< (praise is so good it feeds the beast.) And same to you, you've helped us learn things, you're doing a very good job!!! (/gen)

-🦌👁

Your dedication to him is very endearing, I'm glad that treating him like an actual person has helped a great deal, it usually does!

The urge to s/h for not being good is a really strong self inflicted punishment, we find ourselves struggling with it too sometimes. Though for a more complex reason. We also struggle with desires to be put in sexually harmful situations, though that's likely to do with the fact that we weren't allowed to say no. That's its own issue. And we'll often act sexually towards others, especially our partner(s) if we think it's what they want.

It's something we're working on, but it's a bit exhausting to do so. Restricting food and sleep could be two things: self-inflicted punishment or come from a comfort standpoint. An incredibly common form of torture (because it *is* considered torture) is to restrict food and sleep. We have been in our life, subjected to both as well as a few other forms of torture. You may be seeking comfort in this abuse, or reliving patterns without realizing.

On the splitting aspect, my hope was that perhaps if we waited around long enough, a fragment would come along looking for an identity. Unfortunately, we might have to let Florian front and handle it himself.

Florian is one of the few in our sidesystem who is trisharmed and trisgroomed. (He is looking for someone to harm and groom him but we haven't decided if we should allow him on this account yet)

Thank you <33 you're very kind. Praise feeds our God complex (ASPD related).

[vergess]

Hello there! I apologize for the late hour, but I was just wondering if you have any headcanons or speculations about Besk, the twins' deceased mother from I Was A Teenage Exocolonist. I already heard back from @exocolonistfeelings and @arionwind , but I thought a third opinion would be good for my curious brain 😅

Oh, you never need to apologize for sending me asks about my Favourite Subjects, don't worry! Unfortunately, I had already gone to bed by the time this arrived D:

So, before we begin, this post will have spoilers for:

MAJOR: Robotics job storyline.

MAJOR: Dys and Tang friendships (duh)

MAJOR: Delusions run/achievement

MAJOR: Barista job storyline.

Marz friendship (minor)

Doctor job (minor)

Prolific parenting ending (minor)

Life on Earth achievement (minor)

It will discuss the following stressful subjects:

Suicide

PTSD

Depression

Psychiatric abuse

Child abuse

Substance abuse (alcohol, psychiatric medication)

Cult indoctrination and abuse

Human extinction

And finally, Besq has a character profile in the game data, but it's never used. The profile informs us that she:

Was named Arabesque;

Was female;

Died at age 32;

Was born in Early Quiet;

Was ~12 years younger than Instance, ~7 years younger than your parents, and the same age as Anne, Tirah, Al and Bernie.

Combined with details from the Twins, Marz and Instance, we can develop a very complete timeline of her life.

And it's nasty.

But let's start a little lighter.

Like Ari, I am a definite "Arabesque And Instance Truther." For a while, I honestly considered that Instance might have been the other genetic donor for the twins. Tangent's resemblance to her is particularly noticeable.

So, I figured they were besties, and maybe exes, but in that way you get with queers where no one is sure if they dated or not even though they definitely both lived together for a while and had sex.

Until I started plowing through all the endings, I was under the impression that when Tangent talked about bonding during her transition it was because Instance is also trans. That seems not to be the case (if you become a geneticist or a doctor or something, you develop a more perfected transition technology and it's used specifically for Utopia and Tangent, but not Instance or Vace).

So I was honestly under the matching impression that when Arabesque needed a genetic donor for her Depression Baby, she went to her "Friend" rather than going to the genetic banks, possibly because she knew she would not pass any meaningful examinations. Medicins aren't good at it, but they are trained to look specifically for depression in mothers. With the entire colony hinging on reproduction as aggressively as it does, I truly thought she would have been caught by even the most basic screening.

Of course, as a psych herself, she could easily just lie about everything and get a donor sample.

And that seems to have been the case because of 2 things.

1) Tangent implies she checked her genome against Instance's at one point around year 14 and found no significant commonalities suggesting relationship.

2) If you do Prolific Parent after picking menstruation/breast growth in adolescence (and maybe also null?) and have a female partner, you help the colony develop XX-to-XX fertilization so you can go around knocking up other people too. (Again: 40 children!!! You must be stopped!! Literally! The colony has to stop you from having more children!!).

So, if Instance is indeed cis, the tech wouldn't have existed yet for her to be the other donor.

At this point, I now believe Tangent looks like Instance because she was going to come out looking in some way undesirable to Besq. Was Tangent going to look like her genetic dad? Like Besq's ex? Like Besq herself? (I suspect it may be the latter)

Whatever the case, it seems Besq went full Designer Baby on that shit, and used her Bestie 'Tans as a model.

Bestie, exes, singular point of psychological support in perhaps the most horrific possible torture chamber.

~*~Just Girly Things~*~

As Ari mentioned, it was wildly irresponsible for the cult to designate one singular person as the entire emotional support system for hundreds of people living in a heretofore unknown and unknowable stressor, knowing that they might kill their entire families in the process, thereby rendering their entire movement extinct, and possibly the entire human race if the Earth ending is to be believed.

Really sit on that. Think about the horror that the adults, capable of understanding what they are and what they're doing, are going through every single day.

And every single one of them relied exclusively on a single woman to process that trauma, even as she had to process her own trauma without anyone to trust.

And even then, even then, she lives years on the strato. She survives over a decade of a kind of psychological torture that I cannot even begin to understand.

Now brace yourself, because it's time to payoff on that timeline comment.

Arabesque was 16 when she boarded the Strato as their designated trauma therapist.

She spent her entire adult life in hell.

The twins are 1 year younger than Sol. Besq is mentioned in Marz's high friendship event as being alive, but already heavily drinking, when the twins are turning 5. She dies shortly afterwards.

For the twins to be turning 5, the ship has to have been traveling for just under 16 years. She dies on or around her 32nd birthday. Only four years out from the wormhole.

Unironically and without reserve, Arabesque's inconceivable resilience is responsible for the survival of the human race. Without her there to soak trauma up like a sponge for 16 years of isolation, there is 0 chance that everyone else on the Strato would have had the emotional competence and resilience themselves to make it to Vertumna, let alone establish a colony.

And I don't give the cult any benefit of the doubt in this one, by the way. Modern therapy is great, but it's not the only system for developing emotionally resilient groups. It's specifically terrible for small groups that live together.

This is something that anyone trying to create a planned community of any kind should know on day one. It's unbelievably irresponsible to do what they did.

They didn't need a therapist; they needed social hobbies. They needed a knitting circle, a sewing circle, a banjo band, a bonsai club, three mutually exclusive tabletop rpg groups, a teach-what-you-know art class, a choir, a peer-support therapy and study group, and a dozen other small-group hobbies to foster strongly interconnected emotional group bonds.

That or they needed a religious system. Those are basically the two options. But honestly the cult is alarming enough as it is, so hobbies!!

They did NOT need to make a child bear that burden, and certainly not by herself.

What the Strato needed, and the cult should have provided, is what their children got. A wide variety of small activities that contribute to the overall longevity of the colony while building friendships.

And we only got it because Besq lived long enough for everyone else to survive, and then died spectacularly.

Because of her death.

The severe shock of finding that she hung hung herself in her office, between appointments, completely breaks the "therapeutic" strategy the cult imposed on the colony. Unlike every other job with a possible death in the game, Besq is never replaced.

It takes 20 years and a complete restructuring of the social system of the colony before it's even possible for another therapist to emerge, and only rarely!

Meanwhile, even Congruence struggles under the weight of managing the automated therapy protocols when Besq dies. It's mentioned frequently in certain playstyles that Congruence's therapy is fine for what it is, but it doesn't work nearly as well as a real, trained therapist. Vace describes it as confusing and monotonous. Sol simply describes it as "not as good."

It's a mostly automated system. The handful of excerpts we get from it suggest a very basic CBT regimen. That makes sense, since CBT's non-holistic approach makes it especially easy to self administer. However, it also severely limits the kinds of problem CBT can treat.

And even still, Congruence almost dies the same way Besq did. Only, if Congruence goes, so does the rest of the colony.

That's the end of the Robotics storyline.

After a shockingly similar ~16 years, the strain of mental health for the entire colony, combined with constant trauma, breaks Congruence. An AI many hundreds of thousands of times faster than a human, who regulates everything in the colony, who was designed to self-repair for millennia.

Congruence is the human equivalent of the Overseer, and she lasted exactly as long as Besq did under that strain, while doing significantly worse than Besq did.

Speaking of CBT's inherent limitations: Tangent seems to favour the Psychodynamic approach if she becomes a therapist.

However, Tangent's psychodynamism stands out specifically because of her willingness to use medical and technological intervention alongside it. This is relatively uncommon in our world, if only because psychology (therapy) and psychiatry (medication) are two different fields with totally different demands and licensures.

But even in cases when a psychologist and a psychiatrist share a practice and work together, the ease and readiness with which Tangent approaches those additional interventions is fascinating.

It suggests to me that Besq was likely also a psychodynamist, but a non-medical one.

This is also fun, because it plays well with the theme of reuniting the twins. Instance says outright that Tangent takes after her, while Dys takes after Besq. (Instance saying this is a large part of why I think they were exes rather than unresolved, because it seems like a sort of 'history repeats itself' statement, since it's specifically in the context of 'why Dys and Tangent can't love each other.')

TI is only when Tangent combines the dynamic, holistic approach of Dys (and psychotherapy) and with the the rigid, numerical approach of Instance (and psychiatry), that Tangent overcomes the hurdles her mother failed.

Tangent's happiest lives come from reuniting with emotionality, trauma, and soft skills through Dys, and through the echo of their mother Besq.

Her happiest lives come when she surpasses the horror she inherited when her mother's all-too-human strength finally failed.

And I think that's part of why Tangent is often so... accepting of her early death (she never lives past 60). And why even in the best endings, she doesn't have children of her own, though she donates genetics to a few.

She achieves her goals simply by surviving her trauma instead of being consumed by it. Her legacy is the health and happiness of humanity as a species, not herself or her bloodline. She's very much the mirror image of Dys and the Gardeners, in that way.

There is one other kind of mental health intervention in the colony without Tangent, though. If Congruence's workbook therapy doesn't help, then there's Instance's meds.

When Arabesque dies, Instance devotes herself wholeheartedly to creating self-regulating psychiatric drug implants. In the Barista job ending, Tangent talks about how she and Instance have perfected the technology and Tangent uses it herself to manage her depression, anxiety and paranoid delusions.

If you do a Delusions run, you get a few more tantalizing hints about that.

After Besq's death, the entire colony develops a SEVERE stigma around mental illness.

When Sol presents with delusions (which CBT is especially bad at handling), no modern therapies are attempted. What happens instead is a horrific combination of futuristic medicine and medieval psychology.

Instance begins with bed rest.

That doesn't work. It wouldn't work even on bog standard psychosis. In the fashion of "The Yellow Wallpaper", being put on bedrest runs the risk of making Sol worse.

If Sol continues to express delusions, Instance moves on to heavy antipsychotics. Because the implant is not yet ready, Sol can fake taking these meds.

But it doesn't matter if you do. You'll eventually be caught, and forcibly medicated in a way you "can't avoid." This is never specified, but is specifically not an invasive procedure.

The antipsychotics cause a horrible reaction, whther voluntary or forced. You become almost catatonic, and are trapped in a permanent hallucinatory dream state with your various lives overlapping in your hearing and sight.

So, Instance, your parents (if alive), and the colony council decide to perform an experimental cyberpunk lobotomy on you. This is suggested to be either a prototype or early version of the implant, as it involves invasive surgery, a long recovery time, the suppression of neurochemicals, and massive personality changes.

When I say there's stigma, I am not fucking around. That's their response to nonviolent, nonthreatening delusions in a child.

And as a natural consequence of this absurd behaviour around modern psychology, the colonists avoid anything and everything that looks even vaguely like modern therapy, with the exception of Congruence's AI CBT.

However, because of Besq's tireless work, the colonists are also generally psychologically healthy enough the "inferior" AI therapy is sufficient.

That means the colonists are healthy enough to more or less self-regulate. Combined with the close quarters and heavy labour demands, a system naturally emerges that prioritizes social-bonding through shared hobbies and work.

I don't think Besq killed herself with that in mind. I can't imagine she planned it that way. I think by the time she got pregnant, it was already much too late for her to have any hope of survival.

But the fact remains: Besq set the colony up to survive, in the most horrific way possible. Tangent's obsession with killing herself so that the colony can survive is very much inherited.

Oh also! I'm pretty sure she named Dys that because he (as the "planned" pregnancy) was her Depression Baby.

There's this thing people do, sometimes, when they're extremely depressed, where they have a kid and obsess over it, because as long as the kid is alive and loves them, then they have a reason to live, etc etc. It's really a horrific pattern, because if the parent(s) don't get help for their psychological issues, it almost always leads to all kinds of child abuse.

It can overlap with post-partum depression, too, which just makes it worse, feeding in to the sense that the only value in your life is your children, or vice versa.

As a psychiatrist and psychologist herself, Besq would have been aware of that. I think on some level she knew she was setting herself and her children up for torment. But it was that or just give up and die already.

I very much believe she had Dys specifically as a way to manage her own dysthymia (major depression) long enough to eke out a bit more survival.

I think her peculiar behaviour towards her children also reflects that. The few times we hear about her aside from Instance, Besq is consistently both drunk and doting. If you've ever read Homestuck, Besq has a very Mom Lalonde energy of desperately trying while utterly failing in no small part due to her substance abuse.

And given that the only other people her age she meets for the rest of her entire life are:

Aunt Anne, the All-Mother

Tirah et al, the most distressingly well adjusted polycule on or off earth

Al and Bernie, the literal fucking dictionary definition of picket fence monogamy

All of whom have kids aready or are just starting to have children (remember, Dys and Tang are the youngest in the group). All of whom are happier and better adjusted than you. In spite of the fact that you were the one doing the adjustments.

With all that, a depression baby starts to sound like a very appealing last ditch effort. After all, as long as she's careful not to hurt the kid herself, then when she does give up and die, at least she knows the creche will keep them safe. And Anne is so happy, so loving.

All Besq needs to do is stay drunk enough not to hurt herself, sober enough not to hurt them, until she's finally done. From the perspective of someone who went through what she did, it must have seemed like a kindness.

Given them a bunch of happy memories of her when they're too young to understand why she reeks of illicit alcohol and doesn't spend time with any adults. Then, when she's too tired to continue, just off herself so she can't hurt them with her self destruction, and let Anne and the creche clean up the mess.

When you're far enough down in the depression, that logic checks out. The idea that your absence could be worse than your presence is unfathomable.

Also, since Besk's birthday is immediately after Dys and Tang's, I have to assume the reason Dys is so weird about birthdays is that Besk made sure to live just long enough for their 5th birthday (the photo Marz has), and then killed herself on or immediately before her own.

That, uh... that would for sure give your kids a weird complex about birthdays, to the degree that your son hates people more if they give him cake, and your daughter refuses to eat any sweets at all.

So yeah, that's about that.

I suppose I should mention her Ex from Earth, the one that comes up in her suicide note. But honestly? She was 16 when she left. I'm not exactly shocked that she idealizes some boy she left back home. Even without the trauma of everything else that happened in her life immediately after leaving him and which never ever ended which would necessarily conflate his existence with the last time she felt joy?

It's not that weird for a 16 year old to have a strong crush, and then wax nostalgic about it as an adult. I mean, most people are willing to make a bit of fun at themselves for how silly and obsessed they were as a teen riding high on that first rush of "oh my god I have sex/romance/whatever feelings now."

It's just that, unlike most people?

When Arabesque says 16 was the best her life ever got, she's right.

[septembersghost]

i know actors need jobs but ana wasn't struggling. she took this role because she's well aware of how iconic marilyn is and she didn't care about the fact that this fictionalized take of her life is pure and simple torture porn. she should be ashamed. not only of that but actually saying that marilyns ghost approved of this shit

i was just reading a thread earlier where someone brought this exact topic up. i was trying to give ana some leeway, until the full scope of what this movie contains was revealed, plus her own comments, and, even more damningly, the director's. because she worked on the film with this man. he shaped and guided the whole process - and he has NO respect for marilyn as a human being whatsoever, and has made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make a sensationalized, gratuitously graphic film to do nothing but abuse marilyn to death. he said he doesn't see anything positive in the story. he's not only narrowed her down to her suffering and death, and decided that's all there was to her, he heaped fictional horrors onto her. what exactly was he providing on that set other than to encourage this exploitation?

and ana, with full cognizance, read this script, and thought, sure. did she really think it was somehow honoring her? it's what's said in this post after some of ana's comments:

she apparently didn't know much of anything about marilyn when she took the role, but then threw herself into researching her, which honestly makes it worse for me, because i don't know how you can read anything marilyn ever said or wrote, read about anything she dealt with, and still go through with portraying her like this. idc if she though it'd be acclaimed awards bait, exploring one single interview with marilyn should have been enough to tell her how disrespectful this is. then, to go to marilyn's grave (the resting place she didn't even want) and ask "permission" to desecrate her, to invoke marilyn's ghost and say she in any way would've approved and been with them on set, to have the audacity to say she's upset the nude/assault scenes will be taken out of context when she knew what they were doing and didn't give that respect to the subject? girl, what?

furthermore, and this is the part of the movie i've been avoiding discussing, but, there's zero evidence that marilyn ever had an abortion, though there's ample evidence of her miscarriages and her ectopic pregnancy (which itself could've killed her), how much she longed to be a mother, and how not being able to have a baby broke her heart. they took this, twisted it in the most vile way possible, fabricated a forced abortion, putting the camera in the pov of her cervix, depersonalizing her body and in essence assaulting her via the camera lens, having a fetus not only speak to her from her womb, but continue to haunt her in the film. in the year when roe v wade was overturned and women are fighting for their reproductive rights, and they release this. she really had no second thoughts about this? didn't grasp its implications at all? didn't see how invasive it is? how socially tone deaf in a broader sense?

from the nyt:

as you said, it's basically torture p*rn, a dramatized snuff film exploiting a real woman who was exploited more than enough when she lived, and it also has some of the creepiest misogynistic undertones imaginable, pretending to be symbolism. ana knew precisely what it was and signed on anyway, then tried to excuse it with mystical approval that does not, and would never, exist. much as my anger and disgust goes to the director, producers, and jco, i find it difficult to have any sympathy for her at this point either. what's shocking to me is that no one involved in this entire production ever seemed to consider its two prongs - the social commentary, and the humanity of its protagonist. so what value does it even have?

[forcefulkitten]

bare my burden

[illumi zoldyck x fem! reader]

summary: feeling powerless and out of control due to his mission not going as planned, Illumi makes you feel the same way.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, rough sex, deepthroating, face-fucking

word count: 1,956

It had been a week since your husband, Illumi Zoldyck, left the estate to complete a mission. He said he’d be back two days ago, and he wasn’t back yet. Punctual as he is, he normally arrived before he estimated. You liked to lie to yourself by thinking he did this to surprise you by his early arrival, but you know that he actually used his timeframes as a deadline and made sure to complete things before then. 

The weather out was gloomy on this evening.. Storm clouds filled the sky and heavy rain fell right onto the buds of the beautiful flowers in the Zoldyck Estate. It was always such a sight to see. You had just finished taking a relaxing bath, enjoying a cup of tea and were laying down under your warm comforter when you heard a familiar knock at the door. This knock was Illumi for sure, his signature way to let you know it was him and not one of the butlers. As unapologetic as he was, he always made sure to knock before entering. Two days after his predicted arrival, you were thrilled to finally have him back after missing him and being so worried that things had gone awry.

“Illumi~.” You sang in a tired voice when you heard your door open. Turning around to face him while laying in your bed, your eyes followed his muscular build walk straight into the bathroom as he closed the door behind himself. You thought nothing of this since Illumi loved to jump straight into the shower after he returned from a mission. As you lifted the comforter off your legs, you heard the bathroom door lock. ‘That’s weird’ you thought to yourself. Illumi never locked the bathroom door, since you two always showered together upon his return from a mission. It was routine that you’d jump in and help him clean off and unwind. You then heard the shower water start, and decided to lay back down. He was 2 days late and locked the door behind him, perhaps he needed some time alone. The sound of heavy rain hitting the windows, the warm comforter over you and the subconscious protected feeling of having Illumi back home quickly lulled you to sleep.

“Get up, Y/N.” 

“Wake up. It’s too early to fall asleep for the night right now.”

“Y/N.”

You were woken up after hearing Illumi speaking sternly beside you and feeling his grip on your arm shaking you back into reality. You sat up rubbing your eyes and looking over at the time. It had only been an hour since you’d fell asleep and were grumbling that Illumi wouldn’t allow you some rest especially since he needed some as well.

“Illu.. I missed you. You were gone longer than you predicted. Did everything go as planned?” Finally opening your eyes completely and meeting Illumi’s glare, you took note of the scowl on his face. His glare was colder than normal, and if looks could kill then you’d be dead. This could’ve meant a million different things but you assumed it was regarding his mission and attempted to slice the tension in the room by leaning over to kiss Illumi. He leaned back and grabbed you by your chin. “No. It didn’t. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Illumi’s tone was sharp and full of annoyance. He knew that you could pick up on his moods and were always analyzing him to figure things out because the nature of his personality. It was going to be a long, merciless night. Illumi rarely became stressed out about his job. Years of torture masked as “training” subjected him to so many different scenarios that the man could quite possibly survive and endure anything. But when he felt powerless or out of control, you were the one person who felt that wrath while things were temporarily out of his reach. Illumi would always be sure to complete the job even if he has to restrategize, but not before subjecting you to the same feeling he has at the moment.

Illumi leaned back against the headboard and sighed. You crawled over and onto his lap, looking into his eyes that could burn a hole in hell if he wanted to. You wished he would melt into your touch but his frustration engulfed his tense body just like your desire to help him feel better. You fell into his hands so easily all the time, making it your number one responsibility to always ease Illumi into feeling like the human he never got a chance to be. You began to straddle his waist and wrapped your arms around Illumi’s shoulders, leaning your breasts against his chiseled chest. Threading your fingers through his hair while kissing and licking his neck, Illumi didn't give in to your ministrations. “Y/N,” Illumi spoke out, voice void of any emotion like usual and you leaned off of him to meet his gaze. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips into a harsh, needy kiss which made you moan out at the unexpected force. His tongue delved into your mouth aggressively, tongues dancing and heavy breaths eliciting from you that filled the previously strained room with lust. Illumi’s free hands grabbed your ass, playing with your cheeks before spreading them and bringing his hand to your already soaked pussy. He swiped at your wetness and brought his deft fingers to play with your clit. His fingers swirling perfectly, the coil in your stomach began to build while you moaned his name out desperately. Your hips grinded harder against his hand and you leaned in to make out with him, needing something to ground you from your growing orgasm. A few more ruts onto his hardened cock, swollen lips fighting each other and his fingers precisely rubbing your swollen bud made your orgasm hit quicker than you hoped and you rode out your high as much as Illumi allowed.

Your face was flushed, mind clouded and full of desperation for him to make love to you but you were snapped back into reality when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up while scooting himself off the bed. He took his briefs off, long slender cock springing out while you positioned yourself on your knees. When he looked down at you it was with dangerous eyes. You knew the pleasure you felt previously was only a build up for whatever merciless fuck he wanted to put you through right after he used your throat.

You began swirling your tongue around the tip of his length before attempting to take him in fully. Illumi’s cock is big, and you always had to focus on not hitting the back of your throat too quick. Before you could even bring Illumi’s sex fully into your mouth, he weaved his fingers in your hair and began bucking his hips into your mouth. Drool spilled out the sides while you’re focusing your breathing through your nose & bobbing your head back and forth. Low grunts left his lips and hearing his husky, lust filled noises made your entire body feel warm. You didn’t understand how gagging on his cock could bring you such euphoria. Bracing yourself to deepthroat him, you repositioned yourself to get the best angle and began slipping your mouth further onto his cock. You wanted to send him over the edge. This was a dangerous game to play with Illumi. His fingers that were laced in your hair found their way to your scalp and he then moved one hand to the back of your neck before slamming his cock all the way into your throat, your nose touching his body. Illumi’s quite literally fucking your face at this point, and you’re trying so hard not to pass out, squeezing his thighs with your fingers in hopes that he’ll notice you’re nearly past your limit. He continued his ministrations, bucking into your mouth hard just to chase his release. Black is starting to encompass your vision and you think you’re going to pass out before he pulls you off his cock. A slick line of spit from your mouth to his penis breaks and falls onto your chest and you finally bring air back into your lungs. Illumi looks at you with a dangerous, cold look, before grabbing your soaked chin and making you look at him. “Up, now.”

Illumi began kissing you while guiding you backwards onto your comfortable bed. Pushing your shoulders down once you fell seated onto the bed, he crawled above you, caging you between his arms. You leaned up, sucking and biting Illumi’s neck, trying to mark him up. Much to your surprise, he wasn't complaining or resisting even though he always verbalized how much he hated the look of hickies. Humping you slowly, you feel his aroused length prodding your inner thigh and shudder. You want him so badly. He can see that you’re practically begging him to have his way with you, release some tension, you want to feel close with him, you want him to know that he can let go of his frustration with you.

Illumi lined his cock up with your wet slick, rubbing the tip against your clit deliciously before inching himself all the way into your cunt. The stretch always so pleasantly painful. He began thrusting at a slower pace, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and hitting the perfect spot that made you moan out his name incoherently. Illumi leaned towards you, kissing and biting your neck, repaying you for leaving marks on him. You can hear his breathing hitch in your ear and it sent more arousal to your core. “Fuck.” Illumi moaned while continuing to thrust into you with perfect precision. Physically you were there with him, mentally you were on cloud 9. “You’re, squeezing me, so tight.” Illumi emphasized every word with a hard slam into your pussy, all of which threw you back into reality.

Grabbing both of your legs and folding them onto your body as far as they would go, Illumi brought you into a mating press. Using your ankles as leverage, he slammed into your abused cunt with all of his body weight. Each thrust forced a whimper out of your mouth and Illumi loved the helpless look on your face as he overpowered you. You could do nothing but enjoy the onslaught in this position. The room was filled with your wanton moans, his heavy breathing and it felt like everytime his cock hit your cervix that you were about to be sent over the edge. A few more heavy and hard thrusts caused the coil to break again, your orgasm coating your inner walls and spilling all over Illumi’s cock. He continued fucking into you as you came down from your high, so overstimulated at this point. His orgasm hit soon after, and his grip on you became even tighter. Desperate to ride out his orgasm, he continued plunging into you, slower and gentler while he filled your core with every drop of his seed. The feeling of his dick twitching in your cunt was amazing. Pulling out of your cunt, you missed the feeling of him inside you already. He released your legs from his hold, your legs falling onto the bed as he looked at you all fucked out and beautiful for him. Chest heaving, heavy lidded eyes, you stared back at him with adoration. “Feeling better, Illu?” Your words sounded desperate, almost sorry, and definitely vulnerable. Illumi leaned forward and kissed your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “A little, but I’m not done with you yet.”

[veilder]

Hi! Would you happen to have Convin or Reed900 fics to recommend?

Oh, hello! I can definitely help you with Convin fic recs at least, lol! Reed900, not so much, but there are plenty of blogs around that you could ask for that ship. ^_^ But yeah, I’ll try to categorize these as best I can! And give a little summary, too! :D

Longfics 75k+ (Complete)

1. Mission: Unexpected by J11nxed (@j11nxed) Rated E (violence, sexual content, language, abuse): Super great casefic with lots of amazing character development. Very funny. Probably my favorite characterization of Connor and Gavin, lol. The fic I read when I’m feeling down. ^_^

2. Golden by jarpad (@embaggins on Twitter) Rated M (dark themes, mature content, allusions to self-harm/suicide, mental health issues, language): An absolutely beautiful story of healing and overcoming your demons handled in a very respectful manner. The subject matter is very thought provoking and it brought me to tears, both cathartic and not, more than once. It’s a heavy story, but... So worth it, imo.

3. like roses, death blooms by alekszova (@ewates) Rated M (violence, rape, torture, abuse, mental health issues): A very, very dark revenge fic. Definitely the darkest one on this list. If you like heavy angst, this might be for you, though please heed the tags. A lot of this story is about the aftermath of horrific events but there are still some very brutal scenes.

Mid-length fics 20k-75k (Complete)

1. Running Uphill by NHMoonshadow (@sharysisnhmoonshadow) Rated M (violence, peril, language): The ultimate time travel soulmate AU fic imo. Absolutely top tier Gavin characterization and development. Rich backstories and relationships. Definitely some trauma, omg. But ultimately, a happy ending. Definitely a must-read for any Convin fan imo.

2. Traces by berryblonde (@berry--blonde) Rated M (language, peril, minor suicidal ideation): One of the first long fics I ever read for this ship and still one of my faves. Excellent casefic setup, very interesting premise and some very dynamic characters. Also, really A+ backstory for Gavin. This is basically a classic for anyone who wasn’t around in the early days of fandom. Highly recommend!

3. His Robin by wolfetz Rated T (drama, language): Absolutely fantastic coming of age story set in a human!AU world. Really great character work for both Connor and Gavin and their relationship through the years. Love this one.

4. A Scratched CD/A Faulty Code by consecrated Rated T (mental health issues, language): Companion pieces told from Gavin and Connor’s POVs respectively. These were also very early fics I read when I was first getting into the fandom and I love them both dearly. The characterization here went a long way towards me loving the ship to begin with. A great intro to Convin.

5. That Boy is a Powder Keg by QueenHarleyQuinn Not Rated (language, violence, mature content, mental health issues): One of the most realistic takes on Gavin going from his canon asshole self to someone who could feasibly be in a relationship with Connor. I’m definitely due to re-read this cuz I can’t quite remember the details anymore, but I know I really enjoyed this at the time. Good for anyone who likes a more antagonistic take on him.

Shortfics/Oneshots (~20k)

1.  Sedum Spathulifolium by Burrahobbit Rated T (language): This fic... is so dang sweet. I’ve read it so many times. It’s absolutely adorable, what can I say? Love their dynamic here. ^_^

2. Always know that you are not alone by Liveinelf Rated T (language, drama): Another fantastic take on Gavin and his growth as a character. He starts off very close to canon here and is one mean asshole. But this fic does a great job of explaining why he acts as he does. And how he changes. Highly recommend.

3. Some things never change by berryblonde Rated T (language): An absolutely hilarious fic, lol. The view of Convin through the eyes of some rookie trainees, omg. It makes me laugh so much. XD

4. Mankind Needs More Empathy by BrightestStarInTheSky  (@brighteststarinthesky) Rated T (language, drama): Some good old-fashioned Gavin-getting-his-head-out-of-his-ass, lol. I love fics like this. Need a good basis to start a relationship, after all. Apologies are in order. ^_^

5. as i see them by rekal Rated T (language, drama): Same as the previous entry, this one deals with Gavin’s character growth and how he and Connor grow closer in the aftermath. It’s lovely.

6. Sweet/Wise men say... by 99MillionMiles (@99millionmilesaway) Not Rated: Two short, sweet fluff pieces that absolutely delight me every time I reread them. And as a bonus, some beautiful art by @deep-in-mind67, too!

7. Melted Phoenix by Astrapod Rated M (violence, trauma, mental health issues, mutilation, peril): This one... This is a heavy fic. It starts off with a very harrowing description of android violence that might be too much for some folks to handle. Proceed with caution. But, if you can weather that, this is an absolutely beautiful fic about love and healing. Definitely recommend.

8. So Pathetic and So Lovely by alekszova Rated M (language, drama, mental health issues, mature themes): I think the fic’s description speaks for itself here: “ Neither Gavin or Connor think they are capable of being loved by the other, but that doesn't mean it's true.” Definitely worth a read.

9. An unexpected turn of events by Smokey310 Rated T (language): This one is freakin hilarious. Connor and Gavin and a night out at the club, omg. I love this fic to death. XD

10. As Do I by berryblonde Rated T (drama): A human!AU where your soulmate can feel the injuries of their other half. It’s the story of a lifetime together. All the way til the end.

11. because the bed’s warm and it’s cold out by voidpants (@voidpants) Rated G (no warnings): Connor and Gavin being old men together. It’s beautiful. Such a lovely take on the two of them.

Unfinished Fics/Honorable Mentions

1. Spinning Yellow by sheepishwolfy (@sheepishwolfy) Rated E (violence, language, mature themes): Amazing casefic with top-tier characterization. What’s written of it is still amazing, even if it’s not complete.

2. Amidst a Crash of Worlds by fireplanetz Rated T (violence, mature themes, war, language): A fic told entirely through letters between Connor and Gavin in the aftermath of the bad ending of the game. It’s such an awesome idea and it’s executed so well. Definitely recommend. 

3. The Bet by Pence Rated T (language): Brooklyn 99-inspired DPD shenanigans. Need I say more? It’s so funny and I love the characterization of Connor and Gavin. Mostly finished, too! Just the final chapter missing!

4. Wicked by MercuryPilgrim Rated M (language, mature content): I love this one. It’s such a unique take on Connor and Gavin and it works so well, too. They are delightful here. Love the dynamic!

5. (can’t say) i don’t love you by Chibbers (@teh-chibi) Rated M (language, drama, sexual content): An angsty hanahaki!AU fic where these two idiots don’t realize they’re in love with each other. Really great writing here. Very emotional. Made me feel a lot.

And I guess I should mention that I have fics of my own, too, about half of which are Convin? You can check them out on my AO3 here! ^_^

So yeah, there we go. Those are really all I can think of off the top of my head. I know I missed some amazing works, too, alas. But at least this can give you a good start, yeah? Hope this helps @pancrystal! And thanks again for the ask! :D (Also, if I messed up any of the link or if there’re any glaring typos, lemme know. This was a lot of janky, Tumblr formatting, omg. >_<)

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[donutloverxo]

Pink lady

Note - For the lovely @lielullabyes 500 followers challenge! Congrats babe🥰🥰

And for @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18s challenge and birthday! I'm sorry I'm a bit late! Hope y'all like it❤❤

Summary - You try to convince your professor to give you a better grade.

Warnings - smut, age gap, professor/student relationship, deep throating, cock warming.

Prompts - professor!character x student!reader for snow

Gif prompt + your professor has a different kind of extra credit in mind for navy and siri

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - almost 4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You closed your eyes rubbing them to sooth the dryness. You had a long day and getting anything through your thick skull was turning out to be a challenge.

Of course it would. You were never an amazing student. You just studied the night before the exam and cramped whatever you could, writing what you remember on the test the next day. And yeah it wasn’t the most ideal way to study but it had worked so far for you. You got by alright.

It was more of all the shitty professors you’ve ever had than your fault. None of them could ever get you really interested in their subjects. They either didn’t care enough or only knew how to abuse their power.

But then he walked into your class. He was pretty enough to be a model or an actor. You just assumed he was someone famous. You felt as if you’ve met him before, as if you’ve known him your whole life. You were shocked to hear he was your new criminology professor, along with being a DA. Which has to be a demanding job.

It was impossible to not listen to him when he spoke, his voice so smooth like honey, carrying hints of a Boston accent he let slip whenever he got too passionate, which was quiet often.

He had broad shoulders and thick biceps he hit under those expensive suits and dress shirts. But it was more than that. He acted as if he cared. About his students, about the things he was teaching you. He always encouraged questions and helped everyone with their doubts. He had you on the edge of your seat with every word he said.

He even knew all the students by their names. Well... everyone except you.

You never interacted much in your classes, too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of your dream man. So you had decided to buckle down and study as much as you can so you can finally raise your hand when he asked a question. How amazing it would be to hear him say ‘Good job' to you.

Maybe it isn’t classy to harbor such sinful thoughts about your professor. But the way his pants stretched over his round butt, hugging his long legs and creasing as he leaned against the edge of his table, his thick dark beard framing his face so perfectly, was just so mesmerizing. He was sex on legs. Were you really to blame here?

You had made sure to get to class ten minutes early so you could sit on the first bench. To get a close up look at the show. He was talking about something, you couldn’t really focus on. Your eyes stuck to his crotch, and how you could clearly see the imprint of his...

“Shit” You whispered as you heard him call out your surname, suddenly realising that he had his eyes on you.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Wh – I – don’t really think a lot.” You stammered “I’m sorry what was the question?” You cringed at yourself.

“Try to pay attention next time.” He scolded you as you cowered under his intense gaze, his lips set in a hard line as he went back to addressing the whole class and resuming his lecture.

He didn’t even spare a look at you the rest of the class. You had to keep your tears at bay. It would’ve been better if you were invisible to him. Anything would be better than being publicly humiliated like that.

You decided then and there that you don’t like him. Sure you weren’t paying attention but how dare he point that out? He would never do that to anyone else. What the fuck did he have against you.

Nope. You were going to hate him now and bear him till the end of the semester. But then, all your resolve went out the window as soon as he turned around to write something on the board, giving everyone a nice view of his 'cute bubble butt'. At least that’s what you heard someone else call it. Although the kind of feelings it gave you were anything but cute.

After two long torturous hours the class was dismissed. You scrambled to pack up your bag. You were about to leave your, but body stopped of its own accord when you heard him call out your surname again. Sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breathe turning around to look at him, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands clammy and sweaty.

“Yes professor Barber?” You asked as you stood a few feet away from him, staring at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. You could not look at his face. You would melt on spot and make an idiot of yourself, again.

You cursed as he walked towards you standing just in front. You had never been so close to him before, you could smell his musky cologne, feel his hot breath on your forehead.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to not look at your professor when speaking to him?” He asked cocking his head.

He couldn’t but feel proud and satisfied as you complied so easily, looking up at him. The tip of your tongue peaked out to lick your lip before your lower lip was caught in your teeth as you chewed harshly on it. A very distracting habit of yours. He really had to resist the urge to groan.

He wondered if you knew you were so cruelly teasing him or if you were as oblivious as you seemed to be.

He was excited when he was offered a position to be a teacher, a chance to shape young minds. To make a larger difference in the world. He stayed up all night preparing for his first lecture. He was always thorough with his work. He had made up his mind to do his best and be a good teacher.

But he knew he was ruined as soon as his eyes landed on you.

He wasn’t one for making friends. Always having trouble trusting people. Especially in his profession. It wasn’t that he was shy. He hated small talk and just didn’t have a lot to say, unless he was in a courtroom, even if he did he wasn’t always sure how he should say it.

But when he and his colleagues had a win on a particularly hard case, bringing down a huge mob after working tirelessly for over 3 months, he agreed to go out for drinks to celebrate. He did need to wind down a bit. When he wasn’t at the office he was at home either working or sleeping.

He was sitting on the bar stool with Henry the paralegal he had come to like the guy. He had been a huge help with the case. Henry was going on about his daughters biology project when Andy felt a tap on his shoulder he looked over his shoulder before turning around to get a proper you.

There you stood, leaning against the bar with a dopey grin on your face. He couldn’t help but do you a once over, looking you up and down, you were wearing a hot pink dress that hugged your waist before flaring over your hips. He smiled at your cute kitten heels with small white bows on them. You looked so beautiful, your hair tied up in a high ponytail as curls framed your sweet face.

“Hello mister businessman mister!” You giggled before covering your mouth as you let out a hiccup. “Oops excuse me.”

“I’m not a businessman.” He smiled shaking his head.

“Well you sure do look like one!” you laughed weakly punching his bicep “Oh my gosh” You gulped pressing his bicep in your palm “You must work out.”

“I dabble here and there.” He said waving it off as if it wasn’t a big deal “Can I buy you a drink? Are you old enough to be here?” He wondered.

“I’ll have you know I’m more than old enough” You said proudly. Normally, he would never even consider flirting with someone who looked so young, but for some reason he just couldn’t stop. “Yes I will have a drink. Wait no! No I won’t!” You gasped.

“That’s probably a good idea. You seemed to have had plenty. How about a coffee?” He offered.

“Nope I’m fine. I’m here for my friend Stacey. She likes you.” You drawled out moving your hips side to side dancing to a tune stuck in your head.

“And you don’t like me?” He pouted.

“Noooo” You whined cupping his beard in your hands. He kept pouting to milk some more sympathy from you but was completely taken aback when you pressed your soft cushiony lips over his. You pulled back staring into his eyes and said “I like you a lot! But sisters before misters you know. I couldn’t do that to my friend.” And now you were the one pouting.

He heard Henry clear his throat behind him “I’ll just go on home then. See you tomorrow man.” Andy couldn’t be bothered to turn around to say goodbye, his eyes completely focused on you.

“Oh no your friend left. Whatever you’re going home with Stacey anyway.” You looked around for your friend “Where is she? Oh no! She’s not here.”

Andy frowned looking around the bar with you “Don’t worry she must be in the bathroom or something. Why don’t you try calling her?”

You whipped out your phone from your bag. Your lips starting quivering and eyes turned glossy as you looked at it. “Hey what happened?” His instincts screaming at him to sooth your panic state. He just ran his hand up and down your forearm, there wasn’t much else he could do without seeming like a creep.

“My friend left! She said she went home with a wall street guy. Left me all alone.”

He frowned at that. “Your friend doesn’t deserve you.” He stated as if he knew you. He didn’t but he knew how loyal you were to your friend when you turned him down. Who would abandon such a sweet thing like you?

“And we were gonna go to dinner and everything.” You sniffled “I’ll have to walk home now.”

“No you won’t.” He blurted clenching his jaw. He knew just how bad men could be. He would never let a clearly inebriated woman go home alone.

Sure in any other case he would’ve called or even paid for an taxi. But he couldn’t say goodbye to you just yet. So he offered to take you home. And with some convincing you agreed.

He secured you into the passenger seat before putting your address in the GPS. He found himself laughing more than he ever had at your incoherent drunken ramblings.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Before he could even answer you continued “What if this is all just a simulation. By aliens. Like what if we’re in a tv show. That’d be awesome.” You leaned against the window, closing your eyes.

“Are you this funny when you’re sober?” He wanted to know. Although he had an inkling that you definitely would be.

“Yes I am! But my friends tell me I talk too much.” You said scrunching up your nose.

“I could listen to you talk all night. But I think we’re here.” He said parking across a building. “is this it?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “You’re right dude. They don’t deserve me.”

“Don’t call me dude.” He grumbled. You call your friends ‘dude’. And he had no intentions of being just a friend to you.

“Fine dude” You chuckled. “Do you have a pen?” You asked.

“Uh I think” He felt his pockets and then pulled out a fountain pen he always carried around with him.

You took it from him and shook your head. “You business men and your pens” You snatched his arm and started writing something on his palm.

“I keep telling you I’m not a business man.” He argued.

His heart swelled with giddiness as he saw you write down numbers on his open palm.

“Call me if you wanna hear me talk some more, ‘night.” You struggled to open the door before stumbling out. He made sure you got inside your building safely before he entered your number in his phone. He didn’t ask your name, too caught up in your rant about women’s jeans not having pockets. So he just saved it as ‘pink lady’.

He was so excited to hear from you again that he called you the next morning. Only you had given him the wrong number. He didn’t know if it was a mistake or if you had just lead him on. He considered maybe ‘accidentally’ bumping into you near your apartment. But then he saw you. In his class, as his student.

You didn’t seem to remember him but obviously had a crush on him. You weren’t such a confident talker without the influence of alcohol, the one time he asked you what your name was you just replied with ‘I’ve never had one.’ Which was adorable but also infuriating.

Was he so damn forgettable? How did you manage to do such a number on him, so much so that you haunted his wet dreams, but you had completely forgotten about him and the whole encounter. Going about your merry life, your mind not plagued with such unprofessional and unethical thoughts.

He wanted to know you. To hear you ramble some more or be awkward. Literally anything but the cold shoulder you were giving him. So he did a bad thing. He called you out when you were clearly too busy ogling him. He revelled in the sick pleasure he got from embarrassing you.

“Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He suggested and collected his books without waiting for your answer. You both made your way over to his office, you following a few steps behind him. “After you.” He said as he held the door open for you.

He locked the little latch as he closed the door, instructing you to take a seat. He wasn’t sure why he had called you over. It wasn’t like he could actually act on his feelings. Or ask you if you remembered him at all. It would be out of the question. He would get fired from the university, his reputation would be tarnished.

He took a seat at his desk shuffling through the papers in his drawer and brought one out on the desk.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he took in your demure state. How you had made yourself so small across him. He decided then. He couldn’t possibly not do anything about his feelings. Once his mind was set on something he HAS to have it.

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to simply bend you over the desk and take you in the most primal way possible. But he could wait. In just a few months you would graduate and he would ask you out. There was a possibility that you would turn him down. Again. But he’d take his chances and get what he wanted. He always did.

“Your grades aren’t doing so well Miss L/N” He said passing the paper over to you. “It’s a C. You barely passed. If you don’t get a B or up in your next exam you won’t pass my class.” As much as he loved seeing you everyday he needed you to graduate so he could have his way with you.

“Oh” You let out as you looked at the test.

“That’s all you have to say? What’s wrong? Do you not understand my teaching?” To which you shook your head no “Maybe you should focus on your studies before going to clubs and getting drunk.” He spit leaning back in his chair. He knew he was being harsh, but he also knew that you needed some tough love.

“I – clubs?” You looked up at him and frowned “I don’t go to clubs! How would you know anyway?”

“Oh so you don’t remember.” He sneered not taking too kindly to being forgotten so easily. “January’s last Thursday. You were wearing a pink dress.”

You looked as if you were in deep thought before your eyes widened almost popping out of their sockets. “Oh my god! You’re that business man!” You gasped.

“Listen closely. Because I won’t say it again. I’m not a business man. I’m a district attorney and your professor.” He said sternly as he threw his head back loosening his tie so frustrated with you. He’d have to be patient. Something he very obviously wasn’t. It’s alright. You were worth waiting for.

“Sorry” You mumbled half heartedly. You knew you remembered him from somewhere. You thought you had dreamt of meeting a handsome and charming business man. Apparently you were wrong. “Why am I here professor Barber?” You asked.

“I told you. You need to get your grades up.”

“Yeah but I’m sure many other students must’ve gotten a C or lower as well. Why are you so concerned with me? What’s so special about me?” You spit with an accusatory tone.

“I care about all my students.” It wasn’t a lie. He did. He just cared about you a little bit more.

“Uh – huh. Then why did you lock the door?”

“I didn’t want anyone to disturb us.” He cleared his throat as he sat up straight in his seat.

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked before exaggeratedly rolling them again.

He scoffed “You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. “I’ll have you straightened up in less than a week when you’re mine.”

You hummed at that. “In your dreams old man.”

“You’ll see sweetheart. I just have to wait till June.”

“Well how about you can have a little taste now? I can give you something if you can change my grade.” You offered biting your lips again.

He groaned at the tempting offer and sight “There’s nothing you can give me that will change my mind.”

“Isn’t there?” You got up and walked around the desk to him, exaggeratedly swaying your hips.

He moved in his chair to look at you kneeling between his legs. Rubbing your hands on his thighs.

“I’m sure I can change your mind.” You said confidently as you undid his buckle and pulled down his zipper.

“I doubt it.” A thought of maybe stopping you as you took his hard cock out of his briefs came to him. But then you looked at his length with such awe, as if you were admiring it.

“You like it?” He smirked.

You could only nod your head and try your best to not drool. “It’s the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen.” You admitted. It was also the biggest, his rosy mushroom head slippery with precum, couple of blue veins adorning his thick shaft. You could wait to suck the life out of him.

“How many dicks have you seen?” He frowned. He didn’t really liking you thinking about anyone else’s dick, not when his was right in front of you. “Never mind. Finish what you started.” His impatience took over him as he pushed your head down, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow him whole. He moaned at the feeling of your warm wet mouth wrapped around him. “Relax your throat.” He ordered as he pushed deeper into you.

Sighing deeply as his tip hit the back of your throat, groaning as you choked around him before swallowing. “That’s it good girl.” He praised caressing your jaw. Rubbing away the tears cascading down your cheeks.

He pulled some papers out of his bag as your raised your brows at him. “I need to get some work done sweetheart.” He shifted his hips to sit back on his chair. “How about you keep me warm till then?” He said as you whined “What? Do you have other plans?”

You shook your head as he muttered a “Good” And started going through his paperwork. “You can swallow honey. But that’s all you can do. Don’t you dare move.” He warned.

It was proving to be quiet a task. He couldn’t really focus on anything but your mouth and how he wanted to just fuck it and you stupid. But he was teaching you a lesson. He had to wait a while before he came down your throat. Besides this would give him an opportunity to really savor the feel of you.

You laid your head on his thigh as he flipped through his papers for the next half an hour. Suckling here and there to not mess up his pants. When you realised that he might be interested in you, even just a little. You hoped he would just take you, make your dreams come true. You had no idea what the fuck this shit about waiting was. But you were too afraid to say no to him.

He haphazardly put down his pen. Releasing a shaky breath he finally took hold of your head. Rolling his hips a little, he pulled his length out and pushed it back in. Setting a slow and steady pace, knowing that he’d come all too soon.

You moaned as his hand went down to cup your breast fondling it so gently. He lost it as he felt the little vibrations “Do it again” He demanded as you moaned around his length. He held onto the back of your throat driving his hips up a couple of times before spilling in your throat. “Swallow it all.” He ordered as he pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

He groaned as he as your throat swallow a gulp “Clean me up. I have to go to work.” He pushed his tip against your lips as your tongue peaked out and licked what you couldn’t swallow and your spit off of him. You gave his tip a last kiss before tucking him back in his pants.

You stood up on wobbly feet, straightening the wrinkles in your dress. You went over to your chair cleaning your mouth up with a hanky Professor offered. “So you’ll change my grade now?” You pushed your test towards him.

He laughed “We never agreed to that sweetheart.”

“But I – but we – but I just!”

He shushed you putting his papers back in his bag “That would be unethical. You’ll be coming to my house for lessons. We have to make sure you graduate. Are you free tonight?” He looked up as you nodded “Good. Then we’ll decide if you’re worthy of a reward.” He pulled his laptop bag over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, unlatching it and holding it open for you. “I’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Beautiful dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[zemossunshine]

Sunshine Chapter 2

This is a dark fanfic!!!

Pairings: Zemo x You  Bucky x You

Summary: Falling in love with a villain. This will start sweet and then go very dark.

Tags: Explicit. Mature. Not for minors. Dark. Angst. Knife play. Depression. Suicidal thoughts. Self Harm . Vomiting. Nightmares. Sleepwalking. Torture. Smut. Broken Bones. Blood. Injury. Violence. Rough Sex. Rape. Kidnapping. Spanking. Unhealthy Relationships. Mental Health Issues. Anal Sex. Orgasm Delay. Fear. Blow Jobs. Sexual Violence. Suicide Attempt. Reference To Domestic Violence. Sleepwalking. Memory Loss. Gen Violence. Threats. Manipulation. Manipulative Relationship. Murder. Death. Loss Of Parents. Implied Alcohol Abuse. Threats Of Rape. Non Consensual Drug Use. Emotional Manipulation. Gaslighting.

Warning for this chapter: Mentions of Zemo’s past

You say, it's all in my head and the things I think, just don't make sense. See I can see that look in your eyes, the one that shoots me each and every time. You grace me with your cold shoulder. You shower me with words made of knives. Lyrics owned by Adele.

--

Three Months Later

--

In between work, the constant commuting, Bucky and updating Fury. You were busy, always busy and always rushing everywhere. Your bones ached, you couldn't relax, you were run down. You were sure you had a constant, demanding headache. You did wonder if that was the pressure from the Raft. You had made a choice, the only thing you could possibly cut out, the only thing you were willing to give up, commuting. You would move to the Raft, some of the other guards lived there. Fury agreed, even Ross agreed. You were happy and Bucky, well you were going to tell him. Bucky was off around the world all of the time, so it won’t make any difference to him. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

On the other hand you were smiling more, you made beautiful memories with Bucky, except that one on the motorbike, never again. Bucky was smiling more, he was calmer, more relaxed. Fury was satisfied with your updates and Ross appeared to have dropped his immediate disgust at the very sight of you. You were talking to more people at the Raft, the guards were friendly with you, the other people at the Raft seemed brighter, you had even seen flashes of hope. Almost always behind the glass doors, which you hated.

Zemo was even teaching you German and Chess, you didn't ask. He did. Ross asked him to look something over and it led to Bucky and Sam’s last mission. It took Zemo less than ten minutes to look over the file and he had an answer. You could tell Ross was impressed. If he wanted Zemo’s help then he was going to have to give Zemo things in return and you were happy to oblige. Ross was reluctant but Zemo had never cooperated before, not before you anyway. What harm could Zemo possibly do by teaching you a few things?

Bucky was flicking through Netflix on your sofa. He was leaning back, barely concentrating on the screen, he always looked magnificent and he had no idea. You were staring at him; you knew you were. Just being near him made you weak at the knees.

“You are moving into this prison tomorrow and you still haven't told me where it is exactly? Is it close?” Shit. You had skirted round this question for weeks, months, every time he brought up where you worked you changed the subject. You knew that Bucky knew you were doing that, he was too much of a gentleman to push the subject. Your stomach dropped to the floor, you really waited until the last moment to tell him, it was almost cruel, you couldn't back out now. You inhaled and straightened your back, hoping your posture would somehow stop your voice wavering, you were guilty and you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it. You swallowed and your eyes shot to the door, you didn't want to run, you just wanted to be on the other side of this conversation.

“Have I been there?” Bucky was staring at you, that stare he was never quite aware of. It was cold, without meaning to be. He could sense you were nervous. But now he was nervous, he had been in prison and not as a visitor.

“No, I don’t think so.” You were looking at the floor, you didn't have the courage to look at him. Bucky was still staring at you. You fiddled with your hands, you tried desperately to focus on your fingers, focus on anything else, anything but this.

“Raft.” You weren't even sure you said it, you weren't even sure anyone could hear it. Not until you felt his weight leave the sofa. You felt a wave of nausea flood over you.

“No.” Bucky was cold, the words felt like ice on your skin. You attempted to scrape up the last scrap of self-assurance you had and looked up at him. A mistake, his shoulders were tense, his hands were in fists, his breathing slightly harder, his staring normally didn’t bother you, but you really wouldn’t mind if you were teleported to another galaxy in that moment. You stand up slowly and put your hands over his balled-up fists. He doesn’t flinch away from you any more. It made your heart jump, you built up this trust with him and now you snatched it away. You inhaled a breath to match his and exhaled when he did.

“I’m not in danger, you know that.” Your words were laced with shame, you weren't in danger, but you purposely withheld information.

“Captain America could even fly you there.” A feeble attempt at a joke. You knew you couldn't change the air in the room, but pathetically you tried. He stepped back and put his head in his hands, he started to walk back towards the sofa, then promptly turned and walked the other way. You waited, this was your fault, you would talk about it all night if you had to. Whilst you were running through what you could say you heard everything in the room stop. Bucky was looking at you with a different expression, almost like you were a ghost, then something switched and that charming smile was on his face.

“I'll be right back.” He walked out of your door. What was that? It almost seemed too easy. Your mind went back to running through this you could say to reassure Bucky. Everything was ok. You were even training, learning to defend yourself. He knew about your gut instinct. You weren't quite sure if he trusted it.

“Ok.” Bucky startled you, you hadn’t noticed you were mumbling out loud. It was that easy. He dropped his head and kissed your forehead, you melted again. Sometimes you were sure he could say anything and you would be so lost in him you just wouldn't care what happened. We are going to kill everyone. Ok.

“Let's forget this and go to bed.” Bucky pulled you towards the bedroom. He was lying next to you, AGAIN. Shirtless in your bed, AGAIN. Would spend the night cuddling you to sleep, AGAIN. You wondered if he would ever touch you, you tried, but never pushed. You knew it wouldn't be fair, it had to be his choice. You would have had him the day you met him. Bucky wasn’t there yet. He had run his hands over your body, squeezing just a bit too much, you had a few bruises, but you wanted the bruises everywhere and you knew it would be worth the wait. Patience was meant to be a virtue, or it would be the death of you. He was gently running his hand up and down your thigh, which was sprawled over his waist. You were laying on his chest, his chest was hard, but his touch was so soft, like he knew he could break you. Please break me, please.

“Have you met Zemo?” His voice was flat, which you took a good sign. He didn't seem angry or upset.

“Yes.”

“Watch yourself with him,” His voice was still flat, no warning, but no softness either. You rolled your eyes, he couldn’t see, but you had too. He shifted his head down. Can he hear that too?

“I'm serious, he is manipulative, clever-“

“Oh I know he is, where you think Ross got the intel for your last mission?” You shifted your head up slightly, to see his reaction. Bucky groaned into your neck; you were sure he did it on purpose. Fucking tease. You tried to stay still; you were certain this was torture.

“You're too trusting.” Bucky was speaking out loud, like the words weren't quite meant for you. You weren't sure if he meant trusting of Zemo or of him, or of anyone else. Your eyebrows furrowed and you placed you hand on his neck and rubbed your thumb up and down. You didn't want to ask what he meant; it would be painful for you to hear. For both of you.

--

When you arrived at the Raft, something was going on, things were being moved around, machines were being dragged down hallways. Something had happened overnight. You swallowed, you hoped everyone was ok. You felt your mouth flood with sweet saliva, preparing for vomit. You were looking for someone who didn't look busy, you needed to know. You felt panic push up from your chest.

“Hey it's not for them,” The guard nodded downward, he was smiling. Even the guards could see your panic, you just couldn't hide your emotions. The guard was glowing slightly, he was happy, a feeling you tried to force on everyone.

“Some of the Avengers have decided to use this place more often so we're just setting up.” Of course, they fucking had.

--

Your room was more than you had expected, it was just a place to sleep so you weren't worried. It was pristine, clean, almost sterile. The sheets were white, closets built in and a bathroom off to the side. The walls were grey. You noticed a box on the floor, it was light, it had your pillow in, from home. You hadn’t organised your belongings yet, you never had the time. Bucky sent it. The closet had your clothes in, plain baggy t-shirts, black leggings, sports bras, plain thongs. Ross added in his armour and gun, you know you would never touch them. You opened the other door to the closet and it was completely bare.

“Hey.”

You jumped. Bucky was leaning on the door frame. He could open the door to your room, which means he told Ross about you both. You warmed at that.

“That's my closet.” Bucky nodded towards to empty closet.

“So, we live together now?” You wouldn't be opposed to it, but you had hoped that your first place together wouldn't be the Raft.

“I’m not living here, I’m away most of the time anyway.” Your face must have dropped at his words, you weren't upset exactly, you just let your thoughts of you and Bucky living together run off. He straightened himself up.

“I can sleep in another room.” Bucky looked almost timid.

“You're stuck with me.” You ran and jumped up at him, trusting fully that he will catch you and as always, he did. His hands were underneath your thighs, your legs around his waist. You were holding onto his neck with your hands, but you knew he wouldn't let you fall. You kissed his face all over, you were ecstatic, glowing. Bucky chuckled in your ear. You felt dizzy and that's why you always kept your hands on something steady around him. He set you down gently on the floor.

“Gotta go.” Bucky kissed your lips quickly and rushed off. You placed your head against the wall a groan, you wanted him to slam you into a wall. You waited until your breathing calmed down and headed towards the shower. A little calm before you started your shift.

--

“You appear to be flustered.” Zemo’s cunning smile was all over his face, it was over his entire body. Zemo could tell you were frustrated; you were even sure he knew the particular frustration you were feeling. You heard footsteps on the other side of the glass and the glass cleared. You watched Sam and Bucky walk past. You smiled, the bruises forming from Bucky squeezing your thighs a bit too hard just an hour earlier ached a tiny bit and you shifted slightly, you knew you were blushing.

“So new language today, you said Russian, what’s first?” You tried desperately to concentrate, but you couldn’t decipher the letters in the book, let alone words. Zemo’s eyes moved from your face to the glass. Bucky was there, you hadn’t noticed. You felt a rush of blood to that spot in between your legs. Bucky smiled down at you then he moved his head to Zemo. Watching his expression change was, something. You were looking in-between Zemo and Bucky, they weren't moving, or speaking, they both nodded and Bucky walked away. Something just happened and you missed it, you shook your head slightly.

“Russian is no benefit to you.” Zemo’s mind was made up, you could hear it in his voice.

“Zemo, you asked to teach me?”

“It won't benefit you.” Zemo shut the book and took yours out of your hands, a movement that told you, it was the end of the conversation.

“You have been asking for things that help me? That's not how this works Zemo?”

Zemo had been asking for things he believed made you happy, not for anything he wanted. “What is here that could possibly benefit me?” Zemo didn't sound sad, his voice didn't break. You didn't have an answer, you felt hollow, empty. You had nothing to give him.

“Do you want more books?” You were trying to be gentle, but you knew he would have asked for more books if he wanted them. Zemo looked tired, this was the first time you saw him like this. He shook his head. It was clear he was done for the day. You couldn't help him, not right now. You left his cell, deflated and defeated.

--

You couldn’t get Zemo’s sadness out of your mind, you had finished your shift, there was nothing to do. Bucky was gone. You walked to his cell, two glasses in hand, a smile on your face. Even if Zemo refused again, you had to know that you had tried, you knew he liked this. Zemo looked pleasantly surprised at the whiskey in your hands. This was already working. You handed him the glass and raised your own.

“A toast?” You didn’t know what for, but it seemed appropriate. Zemo’s menacing smile was back, you knew he wasn’t going to grab the knife again. He waived his hands towards his bed and you sat down. You sat here almost every day with him. Playing chess, reading books and attempting German. You were never uncomfortable on his bed, he didn't join you, not yet, he rocked slightly on his heels.

“You read my file.” It wasn’t a question, he just needed confirmation. You nodded. Zemo always has a cold demeanour, you had gotten used to it, you weren't sure you could ever get used to his cold eyes. Zemo tilted his head and sat down next to you, he was close to you. It didn't bother you; you spent a lot of time like this.

“I'm going to disclose some things that aren't in there.” Zemo sipped the whiskey and looked at you, the cold glare, you knew you couldn't get away from but didn't want to, you wanted to hear this. Zemo was about to open up to you, for the first time.

Zemo talked for three hours, it was horrid, awful, horrifying, it reminded you of Hydra. You had read things like this before, in other files. His descriptions were so vivid you could almost picture it. He didn't move closer to you. But his eyes did flicker over your body, your face, he was looking for a reaction, screams of terror. But they weren't there. You could still feel the soft white in the pit of your stomach. You weren't scared or terrified. Despite the words, his voice was soothing. Zemo’s whiskey had drained some time ago, you had forgotten about yours, he placed his hand over yours, still holding the glass, he was looking for permission. He swallowed the liquid down in one.

“Why are you here?” Zemo was frustrated, whatever he just tried didn't work.

“It's my job.”

“You are no guard.” Zemo wasn’t wrong, you weren't exactly, but it’s was the paper work said. You searched for a different answer inside yourself. You didn't want to lie, so you didn’t.

“I just want to help people.” You shrugged.

“After what you just heard?” Zemo asked. You nodded and smiled. A warmth flushed over you, helping people made the glow shine the brightest, it why you agreed to work here.

“You are woefully naive.” Zemo’s voice was just a touch lower. You felt your entire body stiffen, People could never trust your gut instinct, despite it never failing. You rolled your eyes, defiant. Zemo was wrong.

“People can be better, they can change.” And you knew it, with every molecule of your being.

“They pretend to change.” His tone was condescending. A sly smile formed on your lips.

“You changed.” Your tone was light, you knew he about to lose, he didn't, not yet. Zemo scoffed and stood up.

“It’s why Bucky is still alive, isn't it?” You watched shock flutter across his face for just a fraction of a second.

Next Part: https://www.tumblr.com/zemossunshine/664919203748380672/sunshine-chapter-3?source=share