#are the reasons for that in any way her fault or even /because/ of her? NO THEY ARE NOT.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[gachagon]

Wolfgang's deceit and hypocrisy

A deconstruction and analysis of Wolfgang's behavior based on what he said and did during Chapter 1

I kept thinking about why Damon didn't exactly get along with Wolfgang because it seems obvious that he doesn't like him due to Wolfgang's somewhat pompous attitude towards the idea of Ultimates. Wolfgang contrasts Damon's view of Ultimates in that Wolfgang believes all talents are equally valuable to society, and Damon doesn't.

Wolfgang says he doesn't believe anyone there was capable of murdering their "friends" and that the killing game wouldn't even kick off because he believed in the inherent goodness of Ultimates as a whole.

Damon disagreed with this notion and believed everyone had the capacity for violence regardless of their Ultimate status or not. He also disagreed with the idea that all talents are equally valuable to society and that some are more frivolous in nature than others.

Wolfgang believed in a lot of "hopeful" ideals however, I don't think he was telling the truth when he said these things. His actions spoke louder than all of those inspiring speeches he gave to the rest of the class.

In fact, I think Wolfgang agreed with everything Damon said, but he didn't want to admit it for some reason. Wolfgang said he believed in a fair trial and letting people explain themselves, but when Eva claimed she was the Ultimate Liar he immediately resorted to turning the others against her by casting suspicion on her.

He said he believed that all talents are equal in value, but when Eva was revealed to be the Ultimate Mathlete, he didn't stop any of the others from mocking Eva over it. (I will also point out that while as hilarious as Cassidy's Bargain Bin joke is at Damon's expense, he doesn't tell her off for making said joke at all either.)

And Wolfgang said he didn't believe anyone there would kill anyone, but he was constantly taking "precautions" for the Killing Game. "Just in case" someone decided to do something. He agreed with Desmond's idea of bunking together, he at first doesn't want to investigate the pharmacy but decided it's a good idea to let everyone know what's inside anyways, and when he got the mysterious letter telling him to meet in the boiler room he brought a knife with him from the kitchen "for protection" supposedly.

Wolfgang says a lot of things that he clearly doesn't believe, him and Damon are exactly alike. But the difference is that Damon is honest in how he feels about the Killing Game and Wolfgang is not.

Where his hypocrisy comes in is how he judges Damon for his honesty, and makes it seem like he too isn't distrustful of others during the game. And I think the reason for why Damon specifically doesn't like Wolfgang is not just because he is a hypocrite but because he's purposeful about his hypocrisy. He isn't like the rest of the class in his hypocrisy in that he's not doing it by accident, he's doing it on purpose because it keeps him in control of the group.

And the funny thing about it is that it's kind of Damon's fault that the others adopted Wolfgang as their defacto leader. During the mock class trial, Damon was the one who defended Wolfgang's integrity and instinct as a lawyer to get the others to continue to believe in him so they could solve the murder.

But Damon didn't defend Wolfgang because he had some belief in the inherent goodness of Ultimates. He did it because Damon believed Wolfgang's *talent* as a lawyer is proof enough that he's well versed in situations like this. It wasn't about Wolfgang as a person, but his ability as a lawyer. And I think this is why when Damon just says what he thinks Wolfgang is confused by it because he thought Damon was like the rest of the class, hopeful and naive.

And obviously, later on Wolfgang states that he sees people, Ultimates, as more than just their talent. But I don't believe him. I think from the way he treated both Eva and Damon that he silently agreed on the idea of some talents being lesser than others. And he just puts himself in the position of not believing in what Damon says because it's unpopular with the rest of the class.

Wolfgang can subtly take all of the credit for solving Cara's murder, while Damon gets no recognition and because Damon has an unpopular opinion about Ultimates and Talents and the Killing Game, Wolfgang can become their leader very easily (which is exactly what happened)

But he doesn't truly believe in any of it, he's a biased person through and through who has his own selfish goals, and egotistical opinions just like Damon. I think he just didn't come out and be honest because being honest would've shafted him with the likes of Eva and Damon.

Wolfgang is leading them all with blind optimism, when he himself isn't that optimistic. I think this is why his Blackmail letter mentioned him having a Wolfish mind as well, because he is essentially a wolf in sheep's clothing leading a herd of sheep to their potential doom. Keeping them in the dark on purpose so he can continue to be seen as the leader and beacon of hope.

And if you think "Wolfgang wouldn't be that self centered to do this" I think he is, purely because of how he behaved during his death. Diana mentioned him saying things about being seen as great, trying to prove himself to someone, and not being able to measure up to another person.

I think Wolfgang is the exact type of person who would feed on other people's admiration in a situation like this. "It doesn't matter if they believe in me for a foolish and naive reason, because they believe in *me*. And as long as they have their faith in *me*, nothing else about this situation matters. Anyone who doesn't put their faith behind my ability to lead is irrelevant and isn't a part of the group."

(hence why Eva and Damon were constantly shafted by Wolfgang as outsiders)

[the-oblivious-writer]

Oh the Guilt

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: no

Warning(s): major character death and mourning/grief

Notes: Based off of this request: hey! i saw your requests are open (i am indeed busting). i was wondering if you’d do some angst with either sam or tara? maybe sam/tara spending the holidays alone because they falsely accused reader of being gf and pushed them away/broke up w them. but it only ended up putting r in danger and leading to their death? love me some good ol angst if you’re up for it! have a great holiday season :)

The Christmas lights blur through her tears as Sam clutches your photo to her chest, fingers trembling against the worn edges. Her apartment feels too quiet, too empty, the silence broken only by the distant sound of people celebrating that makes everything worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam stares at your sweater draped over her couch - the soft blue one you always wore when it got cold, the one that still holds traces of your perfume. She doesn't deserve its comfort, but she pulls it on anyway, drowning in fabric and guilt and memory.

"We’re specimens to you, aren’t we?" Sam's voice had cracked like breaking glass, fear masquerading as anger. "I’m not letting Tara get hurt again!"

You'd reached for her, confusion and hurt painting your features. "Sam, please. You know me. I would never-"

"I thought I knew Richie too," she'd snarled, backing away from your touch. "Get out. Get out!”

The door had slammed with such finality. She'd thought she was protecting herself, protecting everyone. Instead, she'd handed you to them gift-wrapped - alone, vulnerable, perfect prey.

By the time Sam realized her mistake, she was cradling your broken body in the rain, red seeping into puddles around you both. Your fingers had weakly brushed her cheek, still trying to comfort her even then.

"Not your fault," you'd whispered, but those words haunt her worse than any ghostface ever could.

Now Tara brings food she doesn't eat, Kirby tries to coax her out, but Sam remains suspended in amber, preserved in the moment she lost you. Your clothes hang in her closet like ghosts. She wears your sweaters to sleep, buries her face in the fabric and pretends she can still feel your warmth.

The Christmas tree in the corner - the one you'd insisted on buying together - stands half-decorated, just as you'd left it. Tinsel dangles like broken promises. The star you'd picked out remains in its box, because finishing it without you feels like accepting you're gone.

Sam traces the words of your last text message: "I love you. We'll talk soon." Her phone screen has cracked from how many times she's dropped it, hands shaking too hard to hold on.

She knows she should let others in. Knows you'd want her to live, to heal, to forgive herself. But every time Tara hugs her or Kirby offers support, it feels like betraying your memory. Like she doesn't deserve comfort after what she did to you.

Sometimes, in the depths of night when the walls feel like they're closing in, Sam swears she can feel you. A whisper of movement in her peripheral vision, the ghost of your touch against her shoulder, the way the air shifts as if accommodating your presence.

"I see you everywhere," she whispers into the darkness, clutching your sweater like a lifeline. "The coffee mug you chipped is still in the cabinet. Your stupid action movies are still in my queue. I can't… I can't delete them."

The apartment creaks, settling into winter's grip, and Sam lets out a broken laugh. "Remember how you used to say these old buildings had character? God, you'd make up stories about the noises - ghosts having dance parties, you said." Her voice catches. "Is that what you're doing now? Dancing without me?"

Sam reaches out, fingers trembling in the empty air where she imagines you might be. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was so scared of losing everyone that I pushed away the one person who…" She chokes on the words. "The one person who never gave me a reason to doubt them."

The Christmas lights flicker, and for a moment, Sam's heart stops. She's learned to find meaning in these small disturbances, these tiny rebellions against reality. "I know what you'd say. That I need to forgive myself. That I need to let people in." Tears track down her cheeks. "But how can I? How can I when every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding out in my arms?"

Something shifts in the room - maybe the heating kicking in, maybe something more. The tinsel on the half-decorated tree sways gently. Sam watches it, transfixed. "If you're here… I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have trusted you. Should have protected you. Should have been there when…"

The star for the tree - your star - sits in its box on the coffee table. As Sam watches through tears, a draft from somewhere catches the lid, lifting it slightly. Her breath hitches.

"You want me to finish it, don't you? The tree?" Her laugh is wet, broken. "Always so stubborn about traditions." She reaches for the star with shaking hands. "I don't know if I can. It feels like accepting you're really…"

The room grows impossibly still, as if the very air is holding its breath. Sam could swear she feels the phantom pressure of your hand over hers, guiding her toward the tree. The sensation is so vivid she gasps.

"Okay," she whispers, standing on unsteady legs. "Okay, baby. For you." She clutches the star to her chest, your sweater hanging loose on her frame. "But I'm not ready to let you go. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

As she reaches up to place the star, the Christmas lights seem to glow a little brighter, and for just a moment, Sam swears she can feel your arms around her waist, your chin on her shoulder, just like before. Just like always.

"Stay with me?" she asks the empty room, knowing the answer, dreading the silence. "Even if I don't deserve it?"

The lights flicker once, twice - like a heartbeat, like a promise - and Sam breaks down sobbing, sliding to the floor beneath your half-finished tree, beneath your star, beneath the weight of a love that even death couldn't quite end.

———

A/N: first request filled, ob-la-di (sorry if this sucks, I’m half-asleep)

[valscodblog]

𝔸 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕖-𝕪 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

SOOOOOOOOOOOO I HAD A WEE LITTLE VISION. ENJOY!

Warnings: very steamy smut intro and outro (although the edning aint that spicy), vulgar language (your baby(teenager-) lmao and you and price but shhhh mostly the kid), and tooth rotting fluff. That's it.

TAGS: @ink-n-shadow @skauni @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss @2econd-of-1sts @rainyrambles-overcod <33

"John-fuck the kids are home..." you murmured as your husband kept slowly and softly kissing your neck. He hummed, "Then i guess you'll have to keep it down f'me..." Oh the fucker. You huffed. "Fine-but you better go slow." John looked up at you and pressed a soft little kiss to your pulse. "Deal." and next thing you knew, his cargos, vest. sweater, tee shirt, and boxers were off and he had you stripped of your own clothing. God, you loved it when he came back from deployment.

You closed your eyes, trusting him to do whatever he felt like doing, because to be honest your own job had been draining today. The kids were so loud, and you burnt three batched of cookies trying to prevent your boys from eating the crafting glue your girls had forgotten to put away...but now the little angles were in bed-and you were being ate out by your husband. You hadn't even noticed the small little whines exiting your mouth, the soft "John"s you were saying.

"Fuck, love-sllrrp!-taste s'good," John mumbled into your cunt, swirling his tongue all around your clit which caused you to whine softly and bite down on your lower lip. He looked up at you and chuckled, "C'mon, Love. You know what you want-Say it." You looked down at him and huffed, "John. I'm not taking that risk-"

"MOMMMM JAKE WON'T STOP PUSHING ME-Mom? What's under the sheets?" you froze and looked at your husband with the most god awful look you could manage and he gulped quietly. "Nothing, Lena. What's that about Jake?" "Ugh-the fucker won't stop biting me!"

and up came Price from the sheets. "Watch that mouth!" "Says the one who was prolly just eatin' mum ou'-" "Elena Susan Price!" "...I'll just go..." and out your eldest walked. Fifteen was a a scary number for sure. John groaned. "And there goes our fun night." you slapped his arm. "I told you-" "Ah shut it, yeah? It's just as much your fault!" "Johnathan!" "Y/n!" "Ooouughh you have no Idea how much i wanna strangle you right now!" and John laughed. "Darlin'-I have a choking kink that goes both ways." and you groaned. "And how did i fall in love with you again?" "Mhh, no idea. Called you a pretty dove one day and you followed me around like a lost puppy for awhile." you flipped him off before getting up, putting your shorts back on and walking out of the room.

he followed, naturally. "Where ya goin', Lovie?" "Bathroom-" "I'll guard." "This issn't-....Fine. Make sure Jake dosen't barge in without knocking." "Yes, Mummy." "Fuck off, John!" and Price gently pushed you into the restroom, laughing softly. "Love you too, Babe," he murmured, eyeing the hallway. he narrowed his eyes before- "...Jesus, Mary, and Joeseph, Lance! You scared me. What are you doing up?" "Lenny was screaming sum and I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep and now i have to pee." John nodded. Good reason. Elena was Loud. Like her mom-

"Your talking out loud, Price!" "Oh mind your fuckin' business!" and the toilet flushed and he heard the tap running, he stared at the door so hard that his son sworn he would see smoke coming from it any second-that was before you swung it open and caught Price's stare, and he narrowed his eyes. "Your short, Corp-" "Say that infernal ranking again, Lt, and I Swear to God himself, I'll punch you in the gut!" and John laughed, unable to keep his stupid act up any longer. You did too. The way you too acted with each other was so dumb, so stupid...and yet so perfectly in love.

Your son gagged and ran into the bathroom and said, "If i puke, it's your fault, mum an' dad!" John rolled his eyes, "Sure, Son. Sure." he started walking back to his room and you followed, just how you used to back in the day. John looked over his shoulder and turned around, picking you up with ease and carrying you the rest of the way to the bedroom. You let out a yelp and clung onto him. "I did tell you to warn me before just-picking me up, right?" "Ye did...but i don't listen."

"So I see...We best get some shut eye. Girls'll be up in no time screaming about their presents." John laughed. "Yeah? Let's go then, Darl."

Seems you were right, John thought as he felt his youngest daughter softly punching him on his chest, "Daddy! Wake up! Its-" "Christmas? Yeah...I know, Lovie." and your youngest giggled happily as she then moved onto wake you up. "Mummy! Mummy!" You could never tire of hearing her little accent. Even having been living in the UK ever since you got married you still didnt have an accent-not a full one at least. "Yes, Dear?" "It's time for presents from Santa!"

Your don't think a rabid animal could've made such a damn mess in your living room as you watched your kids tear open their presents. Elena got a new pair of gaming headphones (due to her begging John behind your back), some new socks, a few new hoodies she found rather comfy and nice, lots of art supplies, and..."Mom. What the fuck?"

"You need some new ones, Elena." "Mom-these bra's dont even look like they'd fit me!" and John sighed, "I didnt even know that you got those for her, Y/n." "She needed them." Elena rolled her eyes and opened her next one and nearly choking on her own spit. "WHO THE HELL GOT ME THIS-!?" and she held up a pack maxi-pads. Lance rose his hand and laughed his ass off.

Elena threw them at his face, smiling. "Bastard!" "Hey hey hey! Watch it, both of ye!" John shouted, and you rolled your eyes. "Let them be kids, John." He groaned and said, "Why don't you tell them off?" "Cause I'm the nice parent and everyone's favorite. I like to keep it that way...Now, what did you get, Ellie?" and your youngest daughter giggled happily. "I got some new dresses and a lot of new markers!" you smiled, teeth and all, but then slowly turned your head to look at your husband. "Lovely...now she can draw on my walls even more, " You whispered to him.

He just laughed loving. "What about Lance?" "I...Got some new boxers, a new pair of shoes and-OH HELL YEAH! RED DEAD REDEMPTION TWO!" and John coughed. "Who the hell-....Y/n..?" "What? He sold it pretty well." "....Damn it." and your youngest son, Jake said, "I got a new toy car! and a few more dinosours and more crayons and uhm...A new cup! It has dinos on it! And words-but I can't read them too well. I know one says...R-Rrawr? Rour? I dunno."

You laughed, "I can help you read it later on after we wash it, Kiddo." "Thanks, Mama!" and after the kids finished naming all their presents, they got one more-and so did you. The whole 141.

"AYE, IIIIIT'S UNCLE JOHNNYYYYY!" Soap shouted, running into the house, from the kitchen. How did they...You looked at John and he smirked. "Im a damn good actor, huh?" "You shit." "Ye love me."

"Uncle Simon!" Your daughters shouted as they both ran for the man, he smiled under the mask-which Elena tore off. "Told ye once an; I'll tell ye again, Uncle, Dont wear this around family!" Ghost laughed-harshly wheezing sounds, "Alright, Alright, I get it ye lil' Demon." And Elena laughed.

Lance did a fist bumb, hand slap and something else looking sort of hand shake with Gaz, and Kyle, being the sweet boy he was said, "Looks like yer gonna help yer mum out cleaning, aye?" "Uhmm..." Lance blushed. "I dunno..." "That better be a yes, young man." "Yes, Lieuntant Gaz!" "Good...."

And finally Nikolai was knocked down by all of your kids jumping onto him-literally. "VWHOA! And Hello to you keeds, Too!" John sighed and, after bushing his kids off playfully, helped his old friend up. "Merry Christmas, Nik." "Very happy holidays here indeed."

You watched your eldest daughter started to slowly back out of the room, but you caught her gaze and she glared at you.

'Mom. Please-'

'Their family. get back over here now.'

'....Yes, Ma'am.' and so your daughter walked back over, your glare overpowering her own. Ghost had watched the whole thing and tried to cheer her up by handing her a tenner. Your daughter took it and grinned. "Buy yerself sum'in nice, yeah? Since i didn't have tme to get ye a gift an' allat..." "Naw, it's okay Uncle Ghost! Thanks though!" John gave his old LT the worse side eye you've ever seen him give and Ghost, even though he was already very pale, seemed to pale even more at that.

After everyone left, you sighed heavily. Never were one for long staying guests. John placed a hand on your lower back and you smiled. "I still have one gift left to give you, John..." and Your husband Grinned. "Oh really, Darling?" "Yeah...meet me upstairs in ten," you murmured, walking away. John watched you and nearly started after you right away. You knew he would so you let him but then, in the hall way-"Bathroom-Go."

You nodded and changed course, walking into the bathroom, letting John pick you up and place you on the counter. You smiled before he kissed you, nice and hard. All teeth and tongue. "John-Slow down! I'm not gonna run away, and besides the kids are in bed, we have all night, Babe." He groaned. "Sure dont feel that way t'me, Darl." and he squeezed your thighs, spreading them open and telling you, "Undo my jeans." and boy did you. Unbuttoning them, and undoing the fly and watching them fall off his hips.

"You gonna be good?" "Yeah." "Atta Girl...Merry Fucking Christmas." and his cock slid inside of you, making you whine in response, "M-Merry Christmas, John..."

[q--uee--n]

It doesn't quite sit well with me when parts of the fandom act as though they don't understand why, exactly, people become so hyper-defensive/are so hyper-sensitive when people bring up Mel being manipulative. It's because this trait has been weaponized to demean and disparage her at the expense of acknowledging any other nuance/facet about her character, and this also often goes hand-in-hand with ignoring the faults of other characters as to emphasize hers. The fact that Mel is a Black woman can not be put aside as a definitive factor as to why and how she's perceived the way she is—by both the fandom and the writers of the show. I would even argue that one of the show's original sins is a lack of understanding of the real-world intersections between race, class, and colonialism.

In regards to both Mel and Ambessa, this lack of understanding is evident in the writing. Writing that ignores the real-world implications of the Medardas and their social position relative to whiteness, which is one informed by socioeconomic and sociocultural disparities as a result of racism and misogyny. Yes, I understand it's a high fantasy show where things like racism don't exist, so to speak, but Arcane, like all media, is informed by the state of affairs of the world we live in. With classism—classism, which Black people are disproportionately victims of—being a core theme of the show (ostensibly), it's disingenuous to disregard the, from a Doylist perspective, haphazard nature of Mel's function in the narrative as a wealthy Black woman in a classist society juxtaposed against poor, oppressed white main characters (this also applies to Ambessa as a warmonger).

With that said, and harkening back to the beginning of this post, even if you're not bringing attention to Mel's flaws and complexities to demonize her, you have to acknowledge them in the context of her as a Black female character being written with little understanding of intersectionality and how they've been weaponized against her, which are the reasons people—specifically Black woman fans such as myself—are compelled to defend her (or even pretend these flaws don't exist. After all, it's never been a problem in fandom when non-black and male characters' flaws are erased/diminished. It can't suddenly become one now). It's easy to say Mel is a multi-faceted, three-dimensional character, thus, that's why downplaying her flaws is a disservice to her charcter, and this isn't an unreasonable point. However, it's harder to admit that the reason people point out these flaws is not always in the service of acknowledging her complexities but instead in the service of demonizing her due to internalized/unknown biases against Black women. In the end, no one has to like a character. No one even has to defend a character they don't like on principle. No one has to not be annoyed at the sanitization of a multidimensional character. But if those things are being done without an acknowledgement of how the perception of that character is mired by racism and misogyny—knowing or unknowing, from the writers on down—then maybe it's time to address some oversights or unpack some internalized biases before wondering why people feel the need to defend that character.

[catsr-reallycool]

I am SICK and TIRED of all the Eva Tsunaka hate.

WHAT DID SHE EVEN DO WRONG! you know who's wrong? YOU ALL! i understand why she wanted everyone in that cast dead. i understand why she thought that way about everyone. IT'S NOT HER FAULT! you all are just as bad as THE REST OF THE CAST! she would've wanted you all dead, and ME? I WOULD AGREE! why? because Eva Tsunaka can do no wrong. c'mon guys, it's Eva Tsunaka! you gotta be kidding me! she always has a reason for what she does and that reason is almost always right! except for the fact that she thinks EVERYONE hates her... heh, well, i personally LOVE Eva Tsunaka if you guys didn't know that yet. i would do a lot of things for her, and i would never question the motives behind any of her requests because Eva Tsunaka is always right!

[butchvamp]

i dont know how you could play veilguard and genuinely think the dalish elves are represented well in that game. you can't even play a dalish rook (except somehow they kinda are dalish, but also you can make them andrastian too, because actually you're not dalish but you do know elven and call them "our gods" repeatedly for some reason but your faith is completely unshaken by all of this regardless), there are no dalish clans in the entire game, the only one we do interact with is massacred off-screen but it's fine this time i guess because at least it's not our fault, and the two dalish companions are treated like shit by the writers and the narrative and the playerbase. the veil jumpers are not the dalish, these are separate groups, there are humans and qunari and dwarves all within the veil jumpers. the dalish are separate, irelin and strife and bellara all left their clans to join the veil jumpers. the actual dalish clan in arlathan is killed after the gods escape, there's literally a whole quest where you have to run around and find their dead bodies.

bellara is punished not once but twice with her brother's death for daring to pursue elven history, just like merrill is punished for restoring the eluvian before her. and then rook is the one that gets to choose whether or not to destroy the archive, despite not even being dalish. yes, bellara is smart and strong and brave but she also is belittled for her beliefs; her struggle at the start is played as a joke, her comments are all punchlines, and when you do get to talk to her she blames herself and feels guilty, and the game gives you no real option to comfort her. it takes the game killing her brother a second time for us to finally get to see her practice her culture without feeling guilty and without being mocked for it at his funeral, because now she's learned her lesson (but also they make sure to throw in a comment about how Weird it is, and also that all the other dalish clans have been doing the Wrong funeral rites, just to make sure we know how silly they are)

outside of davrin and bellara, the dalish are absent. strife and irelin both immediately accept the sudden revelation that their gods are evil with no pushback (and i don't care if this is because they know harding and varric, this is not communicated in the game). and apparently every other dalish elf just accepts it, too. how is this not depicting them as a monolith? did we play different games? dalish clans have their own traditions and cultures and would absolutely have different opinions about their own gods; the only way you get to see something even remotely close to this is if you take bellara and davrin out together and listen for their banters-- which are never mentioned or relevant anywhere else in game.

and no, i don't want the dalish to blindly follow the gods in veilguard, i want the entire narrative to just not be so fucking racist. the oppressed people's gods being revealed to be evil all along is just racist. nothing else can be "fixed" while this is the core plot, and we knew this since trespasser came out, since it was first revealed over 10 years ago. people have been criticizing this choice and the depiction of the dalish for over a decade. and they still continued with this storyline, despite the various other lore bits they did end up changing for better or worse... instead they just wrote out the dalish completely while still managing to perpetuate harmful anti-indigenous tropes that they've been criticized for repeatedly in the past-- that are made even worse with the total absence of any other dalish characters to counteract them.

[anamazingangie]

i thought you ought to know | Rupert x Taggie

Rated M | 6.5k words | Complete! | by  AmazingAngie

Tags: fluff, all comfort no hurt, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, married life, older man/younger woman, making your husband a daddy in more ways than one

Summary:

"This is  my  wife, Taggie Campbell-Black.”  She would never tire of hearing that, especially when Rupert said it with so much pride.  It wasn’t uncommon for them to get the response, “My god, I thought she was your daughter!”  But Taggie never tired of that, either, even if she probably should. It was hardly an insult, to be thought related by blood to a man like Rupert.  (Though, being related by marriage almost felt more special, because he had chosen her in a way you couldn’t choose a child.) . or; Rupert takes far better care of her than her actual father ever did, so it's no wonder that Taggie, on occasion, pretends Rupert is more than just her husband. 

Excerpt:

"You’re an angel, darling. All the more so, when I’m such a devil.”  He meant the words in jest, but they didn’t come out that way. He was still too concerned with corrupting her, even if they both enjoyed her corruption a great deal.  “Rupert,” she said, tugging on his tie and forcing him to look at her, “I may be an angel in your eyes, but you are hardly a devil in mine.”  Maybe he expected her to make a joke, but she was quite serious when she said, “You’re my wings,” she said with a smile.  Sometimes, he really did make her feel like she could do anything, maybe even that she could fly.  But he made her so happy, that she had no desire to fly away. 

the snow is snowing and the wind it is blowing

.

They had gotten married in spring, just a handful of weeks after her birthday. It was a small ceremony, in a meadow, with a few dozen guests they could trust not to leak details to the press.

There was no debauchery on that day worth reporting, really, but they wanted it to be private since it was a luxury rarely found in Rupert's life.

Though they had agreed that their love would be public — in part because of their mutual insecurity, but also because of Rupert’s possessiveness, and his inability to keep his hands to himself. 

(Which, to be fair, Taggie also struggled to do.)

.

but I can weather the storm

.

Taggie hadn’t expected a lot of support regarding their nuptials, because Taggie never expected much support for any decision she made. 

A stupid girl could hardly make smart decisions, after all. 

She had been told that often enough to question herself constantly, often looking to those around her for guidance, because her sister and brother were so clever, especially compared to her. 

Of course, their opinion was better and more trustworthy than her own. It had to be.

Or, at the very least, they were more confident in their opinions. 

(Then again, it didn’t take much confidence to be ' more confident' than Agatha O’Hara…at least until she met Rupert Campbell-Black.) 

.

what do I care how much it may storm

.

There were a thousand reasons she shouldn’t trust Rupert, at least on paper. 

Her sister had told her that when she found out about the engagement.

Taggie had laughed because it was probably true, but she simply responded, “Good thing that I can’t read them,” and hung up. 

She had never hung up on her sister before. Or anyone, even. 

She was always polite to a fault.

But for the first time in her life, she didn’t care what her sister thought, because she was confident her sister was wrong. 

Because the only thing Taggie had ever been confident about in her entire life was : 

She loved Rupert Campbell-Black. 

And the only time she hadn’t questioned what she was doing or saying was when he asked her to marry him. 

The answer had been so obvious, and she had been so certain, and so happy. 

(Of course, she said yes.) 

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

It didn’t matter that everyone else thought she was setting herself up for heartbreak. 

Maybe she was. Maybe he would grow bored and leave her. Maybe he would become cruel. 

Maybe. 

It was a risk she was willing to take because she had already lived the reality that was life without him and it was agonizing. If their marriage was just a brief reprieve from that, a plaster on her heart that beat only for him, then it was better than nothing. 

“You don’t understand,” she told her siblings, fiddling with the tea towel in her lap to hide her frustration, “He makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if a man like him loves me, then surely anything is possible.” 

She swallowed, looking down at her fingers, “He makes me feel safe. Not the way a security system does, it's more than that. It feels like...nothing can hurt me when I’m with him, not the world, not myself, nothing. When he looks at me, when he holds me, I know everything will be okay.” 

For someone with near-crippling anxiety, there was no sweeter feeling than a safe haven that made all those thoughts ebb away, and nothing had ever given her that sort of relief, except for Rupert.

“He can’t protect you from himself, Taggie. He could hurt you.” Patrick said softly. 

Caitlin was frowning, “Patrick is right, and you talk about him like he is your father, not your fiancé. It freaks me out.” 

Declan, who had been ignoring them from his seat at the table, snorted, snidely commenting that, “He is certainly old enough to be, imagine how I feel.”

Taggie grit her teeth, wanting to scream that this wasn’t about him, or anyone else. It was about her, and maybe he should think about how his sniping made her feel. 

The thought was selfish enough that in the past she might have cried and apologized just for it crossing her mind. 

But a single week of being with Rupert had changed her, and she could practically hear him whispering in her ear, asking ‘How does that feel, darling?’ while his fingers curled inside of her, ‘You’re such a good girl, Taggie, let me make you feel good.’ 

He was the only one who ever cared about how she felt, much less making her feel good about herself. Taggie didn’t associate those things with a father figure at all, she just associated them with Rupert. 

Maybe Caitlin was right and she did talk about Rupert like he was a parent in addition to a partner. But she would never talk about their parents like that. Neither of them had been much of a safe haven to her, in fact, they were often quite the opposite. 

So she just sighed, “Maybe I do.” 

(Maybe she needed a father figure as badly as she needed a husband.) 

.

.

.

“For fucks sake, you look more like her father than her groom,” Bas said with a laugh as he looked over the prints from their wedding. 

Rupert glared, “I’ve heard enough of that from Declan, my father-in-law, thanks.” 

“It isn’t your age that makes me say so,” Bas said, lifting a photo from the reception, in which Rupert’s eyes were narrowed at the cameraman, his hand on Taggie’s waist, while she was turned to speak with Ricky. 

“You look at her like she is an angel, and you look at everyone else as if they want to corrupt her. Or steal her, I suppose, and you have to be constantly on guard to protect her virtue.” 

Rupert snorted, he’d well and truly stripped Taggie of that, both before they married and after.  

He hadn’t even waited for the honeymoon to do it, either. 

He hadn’t even waited until the reception , he thought with a grin. 

Her rosy cheeks, glow of happiness, and ruddy lips had nothing to do with touching up her makeup, even if that was the excuse she gave to slip away after the ceremony. 

“She is an angel,” Rupert said, “And of course people want to steal her. Every man she speaks to falls in love.” 

Bas laughed but didn’t disagree, “Quite like you with women, no?” 

Rupert’s mouth opened, then closed, finally stumbling out the poor come back of, “Some men, too,” which made his friend chuckle. 

“What a match you make, inciting so much lust and love wherever you go that you constantly feel undeserving of each other,” Bas dropped the photo and took a seat across Rupert, “My point still stands, though.” 

He took a long sip of his drink and crossed his legs, “Is that not how a father feels for their daughter? That sort of adoration for a girl is so great that you assume everyone feels it too. The sort that makes you spoil them rotten and leaves you fearful that one day they will grow up and find someone they love more than you.” 

He frowned, thinking about it. His actual daughter, Tabitha, was the complete opposite of Taggie in nearly every way — their shared commonality being him and the fact they were both great beauties.

Though he supposed there were some parallels in how he categorized them in his mind. 

(Perhaps it wasn’t a terrible thing, he had been a much better father to her than he had been a husband to her mother.)

.

The words lingered in his mind the following day as he sat beside his wife in the stands, his arm protectively curled around her waist. 

He watched the way people watched his daughter as she rode through the course, in awe over her talents and good looks, despite being too young to be a prospect in any way. She would be a menace when she got older, though, and started looking back, and he dreaded that day.

But he loved her, too, and he would do anything to protect her. But he didn’t feel this… need to protect her the way he did with Taggie. 

Tabitha, having had him as her father, had no qualms about talking back and speaking up for herself, assuming that her opinion was always the right one, just as he so often did.

She had an awareness of her talents and beauty, and the fact these were perceived by others. She knew her worth and she would curse out anyone who treated her as anything less than what she perceived that worth to be.

But Taggie wasn’t like that. She was talented and beautiful, and completely unaware of it.

Maybe they were both lambs being circled by wolves, but where Tabitha would fight them off with her hooves, Taggie would probably apologize for being so unappetizing, her dying bleat saying how she hoped they found a better meal and didn’t go hungry that day. 

Taggie needed him in a way his actual daughter never had. 

Rupert was used to being wanted, but never needed. There was a stark difference. 

(Maybe he needed someone who needed him, too.) 

.

i cannot remember the worst December

.

The timeline was…suspicious in many people's minds, and rumors of teenage pregnancy and entrapment ran rampant through Rutshire. 

Even The Scorpion speculated as much as they legally could without setting themselves up for a lawsuit, which was something Rupert would have been happy to funnel his riches into. 

The whispers followed Taggie when she went shopping, the leading comments from the cashier asking if she had any, ‘unique cravings’ recently, while holding up the jar of pickled onions. 

Rupert’s response to this was buying her a wardrobe of summer dresses, ones with fitted bodices that showed off her tiny waist — and often a bit of cleavage, too, which he claimed hadn’t occurred to him at all. 

(Rupert would never admit it, but he wished the rumors were true. He would happily trap Taggie in such a way, if she hadn’t chosen to stay on her birth control.)

.

just watch those icicles form

.

“I just want them to know you married me for love,” she had told him and he could understand that even if he didn’t like that. 

To him, it was so obvious he loved her, and he had finally convinced her of that, he had no desire to waste time convincing others, too. 

But he had seen her parents’ disapproving looks and heard the skepticism around town. They didn’t have anything to prove, but it would make Taggie’s life easier if they did. 

“Until then,” Taggie said softly, “We should practice a lot.” 

(Taggie had never scored well on a test, but Rupert gave her high marks when it came to their sex life.)

.

.

.

When the tell-all article came out a month after they married, he was…god, he had never been so angry, so devastated, and so disappointed in himself. 

His dirty laundry had been spread across The Scorpion, spanning eight pages and linking him to dozens of women. It spoke at length about how he had fucked his way through just about every city he stayed in and every party he went to—including ‘the political party’ given that his leg up came from getting his leg over  a ‘woman of great influence’ so now people were speculating he fucked Margaret Thatcher. 

They outlined drug-fueled orgies, the fact he had sex before and after every competition with whatever groom took his fancy, that he celebrated his twenty-first birthday by sticking himself in twenty-one different women, among countless other sordid stories which padded out the pages.

They weren’t really stories, though, because it was all true.

He had proudly recounted the vast majority of it to Beatie Johnson, delighted to share his promiscuous past. 

That had been just a handful of months before he met Taggie, and god, so much had changed between then and now. 

Before the articles came out, he had been delighted by his monogamous future with her, but now he was haunted by his past inability to keep it in his pants. 

Taggie, the fucking angel she was, was surprisingly non-pulsed. 

“I knew you had a past,” she said softly, “It didn’t change the fact I loved you and wanted to marry you. Those actions…and women…they are part of the patchwork quilt of your life, not my favorite parts, but without them, you wouldn’t keep me nearly as warm at night.” 

She pressed kisses to his damp cheeks.

“I don’t love you because I think you’re perfect, Rupert. I love you because you’re you. There is no other man I could love the way I love you, and your past cannot change my feelings in the present.” 

Now it was his turn to kiss her. 

God, he loved her so much and he hoped like fucking hell that was true, and that this angel would stay no matter how devilishly he had behaved in the past. 

He almost wanted to say a prayer, but he chose to worship her instead. 

(There was a difference between being loved and being loved unconditionally. The first was expected from one’s spouse — the other was expected from one’s parents. But both Taggie and Rupert had been denied both …until they met each other.) 

.

what do I care if icicles form

.

His political career was over, though he found it hard to be sad about that, especially when Taggie sweetly reminded him it would give him more time with the horses. 

And, more time in bed with her, too. 

She was optimistic, and truly seemed unbothered by the revelations, not that she had read all of them. She insisted she was only concerned with the man he was now and how he treated her. 

She was the only one who seemed to feel that way, though. 

She sighed at the headline, Campbell Conquest says: ‘he took all my confidence when he left me’ and Rupert reached out to flip it around. 

Then, catching sight of the one below it, Rupert Campbell-Black insists he has moved on from a sordid past, and claims his teenage bride has ‘changed him.’

The wedding photo they used on the cover was sweet, at least. If you ignored the dig at Taggie’s age. She was nineteen for fucks sake. 

Barely nineteen, but still. 

“It’s fine,” she said, tangling her fingers with his when he reached for the magazine rack again, “You have changed,” Taggie said so genuinely he believed it. 

He did, truly, but given his track record and his friendships with men made similar statements while financing a half-dozen mistresses, left him painfully aware of how little the words meant. 

Your words don’t matter nearly as much as your actions , Taggie had told him a dozen times. 

She had taken to telling that to his daughter, too, like she was trying to make them all better.

(Tabitha had taken to responding with, “You would say that, you can’t read!”)

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

The pitying looks she got made him feel sick, eyes searching for cracks in the marriage that they were now, more than ever, certain was doomed for failure. 

They would prove them wrong. 

It made him cling to Taggie all the tighter, afraid the sympathy would guide her to a realization that ended with her leaving him . 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was quite the opposite. He thought so highly of her, that it seemed like just a matter of time until she came to her senses. It wasn’t like she would be lacking options, everyone loved her, truly. 

His possessiveness only worsened the rumors. People thought him controlling or even abusive.

(Only half those bruises were his fault, and Taggie had damn well enjoyed the act that led to them.)

.

so I will weather the storm

.

Taggie was forced to bear the worst of the gossip at the end-of-term recital that Marcus was performing in. Hiding in a bathroom stall during intermission she bit her lip and waited for the trio to leave. 

“Did you see them come in? It’s creepy how he never lets go of her.” 

Taggie loved how he never let go of her. 

She didn’t like parties or strangers and clung to his arm out of anxiety as much as desire. She found it comforting how he returned this grip several times over, fearing she would slip away. 

It made her feel confident he wanted her there as much as she wanted to be there.

And god, the pride in his voice when he introduced her to people. The little smile he saved just for her, almost gloating as he said, “This is my wife, Taggie Campbell-Black.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for them to get the response, “My god, I thought she was your daughter!” usually said in good humor. 

Taggie didn’t mind that either, even if she probably should. It was hardly an insult, to be thought related by blood to a man like Rupert. 

(Though, being related by marriage almost felt more special, because he had chosen her in a way you couldn’t choose a child.)

.

what do I care how much it may storm

.

“He has always been so…dismissive with his partners, and then there is her, who he constantly babysits!” 

“Maybe he misses his children, it would explain the child bride.” 

“Fuck, you are so right. He must see her as a kid rather than a woman. That is why he is so loyal and protective, he probably isn’t even attracted to her.” 

“That makes more sense, I mean, really, she is so meek—I can’t fathom why else he would be with her.” 

“When his daddy era is over I’m going to try my hand again. I miss his cock.” 

Taggie winced, waiting until the women left before leaving the stall. 

She knew they were wrong, but it still hurt. 

She was used to people having doubts, but they were usually directed at Rupert’s past that had recently been dredged up, not her potential failings as a partner. 

She wasn’t a child, she told herself as she returned to her seat, playing with her wedding ring while she waited for Rupert to return.

He smelled like cigarettes and mint, not what she would classify as pleasant out of context, but the scent of him, no matter how smokey or sweaty, was so familiar and comforting that it felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. 

She took deep breaths, determined not to cry. It didn’t matter what Sarah said. It didn’t matter that Helen was glaring at her, along with just about every other woman in the audience. 

They saw her as an inconvenient barrier in the way of seducing the most attractive man in the room. 

God, she just wanted to crawl into his lap, to rest her head on his chest and breathe in the fading scent of cologne on his collar. 

Maybe she was a child.

She bit down on her lip, hard, grateful when the lights dimmed and her tears were hidden. She had forty minutes to compose herself now, she could do that much — even a child was capable of that. 

She was so focused on this task that she startled when Rupert’s fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, which was just a ploy to cup her neck and pull her closer to him. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was hardly appropriate, either. 

“How do they expect me to concentrate on anything but you?” Rupert muttered, “A whole fucking orchestra and it doesn’t sound half as pretty as your moans.” 

Her cheeks felt warm, growing hotter when someone loudly hushed them. 

Rupert sighed, letting go of her neck, and settling his hand on her thigh instead. 

Those women were just jealous, she reminded herself, attraction clearly wasn’t an issue in their marriage. 

(He was too fucking attracted to her, that was the issue in their marriage.)

.

off with my overcoat off with my gloves

.

Rupert laughed, “Fuck, she really said that?” 

Taggie nodded, feeling far more at ease after riding him in the backseat of the car, neither of them wanting to wait until they got home. 

Sometimes, she mused, a hard fuck was all one needed to see things clearly again.  

She hoped his driver hadn't seen much, though. God knows how she would ever look him in the eye again if he had.

“My daddy era,” he spat, “That feels like an insult.” 

“It probably was,” she agreed, “But I don’t see it like that — you’re a good dad, you’re good at taking care of me, there isn’t anything shameful about that.” 

Not to her at least, god, she hoped she wasn’t some freak for thinking so.

“It’s a bigger insult to me,” she said with a frown, “That I’m an incompetent little girl.” 

Rupert laughed, tugging on her hair until her head tipped back, “Mm, but there is nothing shameful about that, either. If what you said is true, you’re my little girl, and sometimes you need guidance, as all girls your age do.” 

She shivered, feeling butterflies in her belly along with the familiar arousal that always pooled there when Rupert was present. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He mused, sounding surprised. 

She shook her head a little too quickly, if that wasn’t a giveaway than the blood pooling in her cheeks surely was. 

(It was a good thing that he liked it, too.)

.

who needs an overcoat I'm burning with love

.

It had only been a few months, but Rupert liked to think he could read his wife well enough to know what she liked. 

Sometimes even before she realized what she liked. 

And he guided her towards it, as he supposed fathers did with their children, shepherding them towards their interests and a bright future.

With Taggie, those interests just happened to coincide with sex. 

And as often as they explored those interests, they had never taken on roles, never cried out a name other than what they were called by their typical acquaintances. 

This was different and he had to tread lightly. 

“Don’t lie, Taggie, I’d hate to have to punish my sweet girl.” 

She shivered, “I—I’m not…” 

Her eyes were closed now, unable to even meet his. 

“Are you sure? Or are you just lying again because you want to be punished?” 

She shook her head, but her breathing had changed, and her hips squirmed.

“Maybe you’d like being punished, too.” He mused, carding his fingers through her hair, “That is what fathers do, don’t they? When they care, they make sure there are consequences, so their daughters are well-behaved.” 

Taggie nodded and then, “I— myfatherdidn’t,” spilled out. 

“That’s because you’re so good, he didn’t think he needed to,” he paused, “And you had to be good, to be loved, didn’t you?” 

She nodded.

“You know I’ll love you no matter what, don’t you? Even if you’re bad. Even if you lie. And I love you enough to punish you, too.” 

(When her sister was worried Rupert would hurt her, she probably didn’t mean like this.) 

.

my heart's on fire and the flame grows higher

.

He had such nice hands, Taggie had noticed that on their second meeting, and hated herself because of it, still fancying herself in love with Ralphie. 

Rupert had nice everything, really, though she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that at the time, either. 

Now she could scarcely stop acknowledging it, even getting aroused on car trips simply from watching his fingers grip the wheel of his Aston Martin. 

His every action and gesture held so much confidence. He never stopped to question himself, and sometimes that was to his detriment, but she thrived in his company. He was such a force of nature that his attitude flowed over his surroundings, over her, and it made her feel brave and confident, too. 

And aroused. 

God, she had never thought herself a wanton person, but Rupert seemed to radiate sex in a way that made him irresistible. Somehow her inhibitions melted away under his touch, and her response was immediate and instinctual in a way that was entirely beyond her control. 

It was terrifying, having her desires be discovered by someone else and trying to process them while feeling so much pleasure. 

But it was refreshing, too, because her body reacted before her brain could, she wasn’t responsible for her reaction, and that made any humiliation ebb away — allowing her to enjoy things she would have been far too embarrassed to ever suggest. 

She never would have suggested this. No matter how nice his fingers were, she had never imagined them there, stroking her in a place that not even she had touched. 

She had certainly never imagined his palm coming down on her bare rear, making her gasp and arch against his grip while she stayed spread over his lap. 

She flinched when his fingers smoothed over the stinging cheek, expecting another slap, dreading it, yet almost disappointed when it didn’t come. 

“How about we do ten, and by the end, we’ll see if you’re willing to tell the truth.” 

Each one hurt more than the last, the ache building and building until her ass throbbed, but it was good, too, he is doing this because he cares. Because he wants me to be honest about my feelings. Because he wants me to be good. Good girls don’t lie. 

The thoughts were jumbled, not fully logical but making perfect sense in the hazy moment where pleasure and pain coincided. 

“Do you like the idea of being my little girl, Taggie? Do you like the idea of me being your daddy, taking care of you like this and as a husband?” 

The word came as easily as it did when he proposed, “ Yes,” she mumbled against the quilt that was still stretched atop the bed. 

“Does my little girl want to be fucked?” He asked, his hand stroking her inner thigh.

“Please,” she begged. 

“By who?” He sounded amused and perfectly composed, a sharp contrast to her desperate words laced with such obvious desire. 

“You — just — you, Rupert, Daddy, please.” 

It should have felt wrong, or cheesy, or embarrassing, but it didn’t. It sounded right, it felt right. 

“There is my good girl, asking so nicely, of course I’ll fuck you.” 

(It felt so good.) 

.

i thought you ought to know my heart's on fire

.

It wasn’t a kink of his — at least it wasn’t before Taggie. 

But he liked it a lot. More than he probably should have. 

She sounded so desperate, so pitiful, so overwhelmed as she writhed beneath him, her voice mere gasps of ‘please’ and ‘more’ so frustrated by him taking his time, showing a rare bit of patience and drawing out her agony and pleasure. 

And his agony and pleasure, too, because fuck knows his cock was so hard it hurt. 

But that would make the orgasm feel all the better. 

“You have to let me take care of you,” he admonished, making her whine. 

He loved her like this, so desperate, looking like that innocent girl he met a year ago, and so very young, yet begging for his cock and her orgasm like she would die if he didn’t give it to her. 

She was so fucking selfless in life, which made her greed for orgasms in bed all the more delightful. 

“Please,” she mumbled, “Need you inside of me.” 

He curled the fingers buried in her cunt and she wailed, “I am inside of you, darling.” 

“Noooo, I–I–need your c-cock, please, I’ll be good, please,” she sniffled, “Don’t be mean, be nice, Dad— please. You said you would!” 

“I did, didn’t I? But I didn’t say when,” he really was being mean, but she was so gorgeous like this. 

“Now,” she pleaded, “Need it now, Daddy, please,” the word came more frequently the further gone she got, like when she was stripped down to this raw state, it was what came to mind first—how she saw him before anything else, not that she had permission to vocalize it. 

He supposed she likely had seen him as such a figure before he became her lover and then husband. He had certainly tried to see her as a daughter for months before acting upon his feelings. 

He may have failed to see her as that — or to see her as only that, rather, because having her as just his daughter wasn’t enough, even if she played the part of one when with his children. 

And played it so well even the waitstaff got confused when they went out for meals. 

He didn’t dislike the idea, not anymore, not when he got to have her as his wife, too. 

(He got to have all of her, she was his .) 

.

the flames, they just leap higher

.

The word slipped out often. Too often. Especially when Tabitha was around. At least then, Taggie could claim it was for the children’s benefit. 

Thank god no one ever questioned her flushed cheeks when she stuttered out that excuse. 

Rupert always gave her a look, though, because he knew, and when the children weren’t looking, he’d pull her into her arms — tell her that she was his favorite, because she was so well-behaved. 

“Tabitha is a fucking nightmare, but you’re a dream, darling.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh, because she knew he adored Tabitha too — and he loved Marcus, too, even if he did a very poor job of showing it — but they were exhausting at the best of times, and according to his words, she was perfect. 

“Best fucking thing that ever happened to me.” 

(She felt exactly the same way about him.)

.

.

.

He was so lucky to have met Taggie. 

He was so lucky to have married Taggie. 

He loved her long before he had any idea how she would be in bed, and he was pretty sure there was no sex bad enough to discourage him from being with her, because she was so good in every other way. 

But fuck, he was grateful she was good at this, too. 

As in, genuinely, the best fuck he’d ever had, and he had a lot of experience. 

Maybe it was because he loved her. 

Maybe it was because she was half his age. 

Maybe it was because she was so responsive. 

Maybe it was because she was so fucking tight. 

Maybe it was because she whimpered the word ‘Daddy’ like a prayer when she came. 

(Maybe it was all of those things and more.)

.

so I will weather the storm

.

He was grumpy the day he turned thirty-nine, feeling very old, all the more so by the nineteen-year-old in bed beside him. 

She had her whole life ahead of her, but he had been too selfish to let her live it without him. 

If there was a god, they would probably never forgive him. But that was alright, his life with Taggie was heavenly, whatever came after, no matter how hellish, didn’t matter. 

She tried to cheer him up, making him breakfast and insisting on delivering it to him while he was in bed — while she was wearing nothing but a cotton apron. 

The following fuck left them sticky, maple syrup being drizzled and licked off of ill-advised places, but the orgasm was worth it. 

“Was that my present?” He asked, and he would be perfectly content if it was. 

Taggie bit her lip and shook her head, “No–I couldn’t think of what to get you, when you have so much, so instead, I got rid of something instead.” 

Maybe his memory was going in his old age, but he didn’t quite understand, and the fact she looked nervous was not helping things. 

“What did you get rid of?” He asked, very slowly.

“My birth control,” she said plainly. 

He froze. 

“Do you mean it?” He asked, not wanting to sound too hopeful. 

She nodded, but looked more nervous now, “You want that, right? I can get them back out—they are just in the tras—” 

He rolled them,  “ Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, feeling his arousal flare again at the prospect of knocking her up. 

She knew he wanted that more than anything, and had been trying not to pressure her while vying for it since before they even married. 

If someone asked him a year or two ago if he wanted more children, he would have said no. 

But Taggie was such a natural-born caretaker, she would be such a good mother, and he wanted to make her one. 

And, a possessive part of him, wanted to see her pregnant. He wanted everyone to see her pregnant with his child, because she was his wife, and she was so much more than that too. 

“I fucking love you,” he muttered against her lips. 

(Since ‘actions speak louder than words,’ he made love to her, too.)

.

how do I care how much it storms

.

Their first Christmas together felt like a test — both the day of, and the parties that came before and after it. 

It had been six months since Beattie released the dreaded article, and even longer since they married. 

They had survived Rupert’s thirty-ninth birthday, and his…response to her ‘gift’ had given her confidence that he would like this one too. 

Because the truth was, she was already pregnant.

She hadn’t taken a pill in nearly three months but didn’t want to get his hopes up, knowing it could take a while for it to leave her system. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, when she saw the boxes under the tree. 

He scoffed, “Of course I did.” 

This was it.

“You didn’t, really, you already gave me the best present.” 

His brow rose, and she was impressed by the restraint he showed in not saying, ‘my cock?’ 

“You gave me a baby,” she said softly, hand moving to her stomach. 

He looked stunned. 

And then he smiled. 

“Going to make you a dad for real,” she said softly, then adding, “Again,” since she could never forget Tabitha and Marcus. 

“Can’t fucking wait for it,” he said, pulling her into his lap, “You’ll be the best mother, god, can’t believe my little girl is giving me a baby,” he purred. 

She squirmed, feeling the heat build in her pelvis. 

“I’ll still be your little girl, though, won’t I?” She asked, hating how insecure she sounded. 

The look he gave her was adoring as anything, “Of course you will be, Taggie.” 

And he’d still be her daddy . 

But—

“Will I still be your favorite?” She asked, feeling ashamed for asking but needing reassurance.

“Always,” he promised, “My favorite girl, my favorite wife, my favorite fuck, my favorite person on this fucking earth.” 

(It was not lost on Taggie that he said favorite person, she knew better than to ask where she placed amongst the hounds and horses.)

.

i've got my love

.

People knew right away. They couldn’t tell from how she looked — the red velvet clung to her waist that was tiny as ever, the little bump barely visible even when she was nude — but the way she refused drinks could only mean one thing. 

The congratulations were plentiful, if not particularly genuine. 

He heard the, ‘that poor girl,’ muttered, and got sympathetic, ‘sorry your young wife is going to get fat,’ slaps on the back from other men, both of which he found equally offensive. 

Taggie was glowing, though, she couldn’t stop smiling, even with the stressors of the party and holiday. 

“I got everything I wanted this year, you know,” she told him that night, “I have you and I’m having your baby.” 

(He had her, and he made her happy, and that was all he wanted, too.)

.

to keep me warm

.

“Fatherhood suits him,” Sarah said longingly, her bleary eyes focused on Rupert while she sipped her fifth drink of the evening.

Though Taggie usually appreciated her husband earning such compliments, because he deserved them, Sarah’s attempt to ‘nurse him’ while Taggie fed Matthew in one of the spare bedrooms was not something Taggie would forgive or forget any time soon, even if Rupert had turned her down quite emphatically and publicly. 

“It does,” Taggie agreed, “He is the best daddy,” she said, drawing the word out and leveling a glare in Sarah’s direction, because she hadn't forgotten her words from last year, either.

“He will always be that to me, so try your hand at something else. And keep your tits to yourself, too.” 

Rupert moved towards them, and baby Matthew reached for her, bouncing in his father’s arms while looking delighted to be reunited with his mother, “How is my favorite girl?” He asked, greeting her with a devastating grin and a lengthy kiss.

“Tired. Happy. Hopelessly in love. And horny, too," she told him, when her lips were freed from his. 

He laughed, “So the usual, then.” 

She nodded, “You’ve turned me into a monster.” 

He shook his head, “I think you mean mother, though some are one and the same.” He frowned in the direction of her mother, Maud, who was hanging off some stranger's arm, while Declan looked on with an expression of exasperation heavy on his face. 

“Not you, though,” he reassured her, “You’re an angel, darling. All the more so, when I’m such a devil.” 

He meant the words in jest, but they didn’t come out that way. He was still too concerned with corrupting her, even if they both enjoyed her corruption a great deal. 

He had been especially whiny on his fortieth birthday, going on about how she was ‘wasting her life with an old man’ until Bas called him a, ‘fucking idiot wasting a day moping when he could be fucking his gorgeous wife who is half your fucking age’ which was a bit crass, but something Taggie very much agreed with. 

“Rupert,” she said, tugging on his tie and forcing him to look at her, “I may be an angel in your eyes, but you are hardly a devil in mine.” 

Maybe he expected her to make a joke, but she was quite serious when she said, “You’re my wings,” she said with a smile. 

Sometimes, he really did make her feel like she could do anything, maybe even that she could fly. 

But he made her so happy, that she had no desire to fly away. 

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

[lonelyvampx]

the first time I watched Hotd I was almost with team black, I don't know why, although I personally felt what it means when a father or mother treat their children differently, but I didn't really care cause I wasn't care about team grean and I discovered that I didn't focus on several other details + I always find myself understanding the shows more when I rewatch them, but yes in the first time I knew that Viserys was bad and I didn't sympathize with him completely in any episode, I saw him as a bad father (still)

Alicent is also a bad mother, let me talk about her first because she's not the main topic here, she is a bad mother and some may justify that because of her father, her father was away for many years it was more easy for her to treat her children and I specifically specify Aegon in a better way, and I am not making the topic about him because I love him but because he is the person who was receiving the shouting, intimidation, threats and even slapping, his confidence in his mother's love for him was shaken several times because of her because of that and because she literally said that he is not her son, she wasn't the best mother despite her defense of her children and whoever watched the second season will realize that she is the worst, sacrificing her son after causing him all the horrors in his life, as if she was not satisfied yet or as if she wanted to rid him of the torment she put him through, killing him by the enemy.

Anyway, this topic about Viserys, this corrupt father. who gave Daemon hundreds of attempts and forgave him a lot and loved him so much despite his unforgivable faults, yet he couldn't love his children (alicent's children) like this, especially Aegon, who was also the only punching bag among his children for his anger. He didn't try to love them or get close to them. It is completely illogical that he killed his first wife for the sake of the (boy), then when he had a (boy), and then he began to kill the soul of that boy every day until Aegon no longer felt anything towards him. He kept asking if his father really loved him. He tried to deceive himself before going to the position that would worsen his life more.

Viserys is a bad father who treated his children differently and defended Rhaenyra even though she caused him a lot of troubles. She got opportunities from him just like Daemon, and Viserys tells her that she is his only child. months ago I saw vid on TikTok saying that Rhaenyra is the good daughter among her siblings because she is the only one who grieved for her father when he died! what?!! why don't you say that she is the only one who grieved for him because he favored her and gave her all the affection, love and forgiveness and defended her even in his and her worst conditions, he died and she was sure that he loved her while Aegon was struggling to understand the feelings matter, questioning himself why he didn't deserve love. one of the moments that explained his feelings the most was when he broke his father's model of Valyria, it was a physical expression of his buried feelings for many years, especially after his son killed (the son that Aegon was sure that he wouldn't let him feel what he felt before), Viserys is the one who created the gap and is the reason for the badness of most characters, it was more appropriate for him to ask for forgiveness at that last supper

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[dykedvonte]

I was rewatching mouthwashing, and I ended up thinking of the different reactions that Curly and Jimmy had in doing their tasks. How during the scene of Anya evaluating Jimmy and showing dread towards the idea of doing his evaluation, Curly was the one that offered to take it off her hands. He had no issue with adding more to his plate, because he knew - or well, thought, he knew that Jimmy wasn't going to "bullshit" with him since he's known him for a long time. When Anya hands Curly a note from Swansea, Curly goes to check out what the issue is and he takes care of it without a complaint, the only "complaint" he has is how this incident could have damaged the pods. Which is reasonable, those pods are their only way to be saved if anything tragic happens on the ship. However, in comparison to Jimmy being asked to do things, he's passive-aggressive about it. When Anya asks Jimmy if he could help her out with Curly's painkillers, he tells her that people should be worth their titles, specifically using her title as a nurse when she asked him for help and then when she says forget it, since he made her feel insecure, he still goes "Oh no, I'LL take care of it" as if he was doing a chore, a favor for her. Then, there's that part where he blows up at her for things that she didn't even ask him to do - more so the others asked him about it, like the code scanner, him deciding he needed to find the axe for the foam, and then, there's the medicine part (which when she does ask, and she reconsiders - going to do it herself, he takes that away from her). Jimmy complains about the tasks he has to do and he treats it like a big issue, a "woes me" that he has to do this and that - wanting the praise of the capital without actually doing any work. While Curly doesn't complain about it, in fact, he even mentions that he's aware of how well he is doing at his job as a Captain during that cockpit scene with him and Jimmy. If Jimmy only had to do a small amount of tasks to get irritated and annoyed at being captain, while Curly didn't which I feel like encapsulates their personalities. Curly understands what he's doing is a job, it's a responsibility, why would he complain at any point for doing what he's suppose too? Why would he be upset at people asking him to do tasks? While Jimmy on the other hand, isn't used to it at all and it's different to what he's had before and he's realizing that he doesn't actually like doing the work he has too. I just wanted to ramble about it even if it seemed kind of obvious xd

It’s obvious but it is a thing people miss or understate when trying to find parallels in Curly’s and Jimmy’s relationship/personalities.

Like the way people portray it as neither taking responsibility when it is almost split down the middle of Curly taking responsibilities and faults that shouldn’t be his and making himself unequipped to handle the ones that are while Jimmy refuses to handle the responsibilities he has because he wasn’t expecting the work that comes with them.

Not a lot to say but people forget that another thing the game comments on is prioritization of issues and responsibilities and how the guys fail at it in one way or another in the situation.

[pureconancommentary]

"We can't do anything"? How about invite her inside your house, Agasa? She's been waiting in the snow for three hours, just standing there doing nothing else, and you just watched and thought 'oh man, that's sad. ...Anyways, shame on you Shinichi'.

I mean, there are other concerns, such as 'how did she arrive to wait for three hours and Conan seems to have only arrived'. If I were to assume, he had to talk with Megure for a little while as Shinichi for case reasons, and then slip away and return to the agency, only to find that Ran wasn't there. Though it also brings up how it'd take three whole hours, and also why Ran decided to wait in front of Shinichi's house in the cold when she'd previously just waltzed inside when she thought he might have gone home. Even now, right when the lights turn on, she just pushes the gate and front door open, so there's no reason we see for why she'd stand there for three hours. She's not even wearing pants, she's in a skirt with long socks, there is no reason to have her do that.

[ourceliumnetwork]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[redriverstyx]

turns out i have fasd (fabulous amazing silly disorder) 👍

[flippedorbit]

sure mom. get mad at me for napping most of the day