#because he believes that pain IS the price he needs to pay for what he did. even though it was an accident.

[fellhellion]

tbh i don’t even think miguel’s breakdown rant about miles’ existence as “anomaly” spiderman causing the death of 1610 peter is even about peter, or even quite abt miles. it’s about the idea that somehow 1610 peter could’ve shut down the collider if it weren’t for miles, even though miles’ presence didn’t actually affect peter’s death in any way. it’s about the idea that peter could’ve prevented a reality - that is, anomalies getting slingshotted throughout the multiverse - that miguel feels like he’s buckling under the emotional burden of (”And all this time, I have been the only one holding it all together!”). But even that’s not quite it, it’s about the fact that Miguel has been sitting on the resentment of feeling like he’s utterly alone in this burden, when in reality he’s not. When he created a structure designed to help share that burden between people who should understand it the most. But he won’t - can’t - ask for help bearing the emotional burden because it’s not even quite about the anomalies, it’s about Gabriella. But you deserve to suffer for it, you deserve to hurt. You dwell and grieve her and a mistake you won’t forgive youself for over and over again, all while hiding away and refusing to confide in the people who care about you how badly you’re spiraling, all while a part of you resents them for not knowing, even as they couldn’t know. 

[loganwritesprobably]

When You're In Danger - Straw Hats (Monster Trio)

Content/warnings: GN!Reader, Luffy, Zoro and Sanji headcanons, canon-typical violence referenced, injuries referenced, these men believe in your independence and your abilities!

Part two feat. Nami, Robin and Jinbei

While Luffy hates the idea of you getting hurt, he knows he can't stop it

He'd never expect you to idle by when a fight happens just because he doesn't want you getting hurt

He knows that you're capable, and he's proud of that fact

He'd keep an ear out for you though, as you continued your own fights, just in case

If you were in serious danger that you couldn't combat yourself, Luffy would move heaven and Earth to make sure you were safe

If you got hurt despite him rushing to your rescue, he would blame himself, but he would internalise that

If anyone stood in his way on his path to your side to defend you, they wouldn't be standing for much longer

Monkey D Luffy is a beast, and seas forbid anyone forgets thet

If you were hurt in a battle because you were outmatched, Luffy wouldn't leave your side for anything until he was sure you'd be okay

He trusts Chopper instinctively, but you're too special to lose

Zoro knows, perhaps even more than you know yourself, that you can handle danger. He trusts you to know how to protect yourself

He taught you how after all

So generally speaking he doesn't worry much about you when a fight begins, instead he oozes a quiet confidence

Zoro also knows when he or the crew are outmatched

The crew are brilliant, and have their own skills, but they're all at different combat levels - you're not on the same level as him

If he knew a fight would be too much for you, he'd seek you out in order to assist you

Needing help doesn't make you weak, it just shows you what you need to improve on

It would be second nature for him to find you, one of the rare times that he has a sense of direction

If you became injured because of his failure to protect you, he'd punish himself with intensified training, forcing himself to work harder

If he can't protect you, then what's the point? You're the only thing as important as his dream and Luffy

He wouldn't be able to look at you for a while after, afraid that you also weren't going to forgive him for his failure

Zoro would cut anyone down, ally or foe, to get to you in times of danger

Sanji knows when you're in trouble as if it's a sixth sense

Even if he thinks you can handle himself, he'll rush from his own fight to appear at your side and see for himself that you're coping

It's almost uncanny, how fast he can be there at your side

He only steps in if he's absolutely sure you need him to, because the last thing he wants is to step on your toes if you can handle it

He knows how good it feels to succeed

If you do need him to get involved, he's there before you can ask out loud. He sees it in your face and your body language

He dispatches whatever was causing you problems as fast as he can, then makes sure that you're okay

You even rank above Nami in terms of importance for him. The entire crew loves Nami and can help her - nobody loves you quite like Sanji does

If he can't get there in time, the person who hurt you will have the highest price to pay: a slow and painful death

Nobody is allowed to hurt you, not as long as he lives

He'll apologise to you profusely once the job is done, and spend at least a week if not more at your beck and call doing whatever you need ask him to do

You best be ready to eat your favourite meals every day until he's satisfied that he has apologised enough

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[yellowcabdriver]

desperate

pairing: yuuji itadori x f!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: i quit my old soul-crushing job and i’m desperately trying to finish off all wips before i start my new job svdndjsj please enjoy 🙏🏻 live laugh lovesick yuuji 🫡💕 very shamelessly got inspired by this post

nobara said yuuji shouldn’t call you.

“you don’t want her to think that you’re desperate, right?”

yeah, maybe.

but here’s a thing that a considerate friend that is nobara didn’t take into account.

yuuji is crazy about you and he is indeed very desperate for you and your attention. he is filled with joy and excitement whenever he hears your voice – it’s almost pavlovian, very embarrassing. or at least could be, if yuuji cared enough. his pride is a small price to pay to have a wonder that is you in his life.

but yuuji has to admit, maybe nobara is right. at the end of the day you two are not dating (yet, as yuuji very much hopes). you two are not even very close friends (yet, again, as yuuji hopes).

yuuji’s finger lingers over a call button under your name embezzled with a variety of heart emojis.

“at least text her before calling, you know, it’s kind of a new etiquette these days, not to call someone unannounced,” yuuji remembers nobara’s chastising. it makes yuuji hesitate. of course, he doesn’t want to seem like an ignorant bumpkin who isn’t aware of social cues. what if you’re busy? which you probably are because you are so smart and cool. and you are definitely a great texter (even if you weren’t, yuuji wouldn’t know any better because he is that much in love).

with a sigh, yuuji slides over to messages and starts typing rather pathetically “hiiii how are you???” while fighting the urge to add like a gazillion emojis to express himself better. nobara is really getting into his head, yuuji sighs. this is hard considering he is not exactly an overthinker (that would require having more than one thought and his only singular thought right now is you). a text is better than nothing, sure, but yuuji really really really needs to hear your voice. so he rushes back to his contacts and gathers every ounce of willpower to press on your name.

after almost painful eleven seconds you pick up. yuuji’s breathing hitches a little when he hears your sleepy “hello?”

he wants to throw himself from a window.

he forgot it’s almost 3 am.

“hi, um, hey. sorry, you’re asleep.”

what an absolute mess.

“well, not anymore,” you softly laugh. yuuji, though embarrassed, is so happy to hear your laughter.

“sorry.”

“it’s okay, yuuji. did something happen?”

well, kinda. obviously, yuuji’s not going to tell you that he’s just so down bad for you that he called you up in the middle of the night for no reason.

“no, nothing, i- i’m sorry, it’s nothing urgent, i better call you tomorrow.”

“are you sure? i mean, it’s…” he hears you scramble. “three in the morning. it has got to be an emergency.”

it is, just not a conventional one. yuuji violently shakes his head and then remembers that you can’t see him (why is he such a fool when it comes to you?)

“no, no, i’m sorry, i screwed up. i forgot that not everyone stays up late like me. go to sleep. sorry.”

“stop apologising, it’s all fine. okay, i’ll believe that there’s no emergency. but you better call me tomorrow to confirm that you’re okay.”

yuuji’s cheeks are burning.

“yeah, of course. sorry again.”

you laughed.

“good night, yuuji.”

“good night.”

yuuji’s fingers shake when he types the first message.

“sorry, i actually didn’t mean to call you.”

delivered.

yuuji’s eyes are not leaving the screen beaming brightly into his face.

read.

his palms are suddenly cold.

dot, dot, dot.

“it’s okay,” followed by a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. such a you thing to send. for a minute he contemplates going to sleep and maybe die from embarrassment in his sleep but something takes him over. before he can register it, his fingers start typing.

“fuck it”

delivered, read.

“i did mean to call”

delivered, read.

“i wanted to talk to you”

delivered, read.

“to hear your voice and your laugh”

delivered, read.

yuuji can physically feel the blood rushing away from his limbs when he sees three dancing dots.

“i want to hear your voice, too.”

yuuji’s head is spinning as he fights the urge to jump around the room while smiling at his phone like a madman. megumi and nobara for sure would be disgusted at this sight. he is so ecstatic that he almost misses the next message.

“ft?”

his long calloused fingers dance across the screen to quickly type “i’ll call you”.

he rushes to facetime.

you pick up almost instantly.

yuuji looks at your face, traces of sleep still present in your expression but he can see – and it makes his heart flutter – that you are genuinely happy to see him, too.

you both spent a few intimate moments staring at each other’s badly lit faces, glowing under the dim lights of your screens in the dark, until yuuji finally finds the courage to break the silence.

“so… did you sleep well?”

you quietly laugh and yuuji falls in love even harder though he thought it wasn’t possible. he can’t wait to tell the gang that being desperate pays off, and oh so well.

and what does nobara know anyway.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Steven and period sex?

As you wish, dear anony! <3

Moody

Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warnings/Triggers: Period sex, p in v, mentions of blood, strong language, menstruation themes, comfort, fluff, wholesome, mood changes, mentions of Marc and Jake, reader being grumpy sometimes.

Roughly one week ago you had the urge to eat everything with atleast some chocolate in your path and realized your period had to come in the next few days. A silent warning for Jake, Steven and Marc that your grumpy week will start soon.

Yesterday, your period came as you predicted. You were running low on tampons and pads, and the boys were at home the whole day and you didn't wanted to annoy them to get some for you since Steven had strict rules when you're on your period.

- No going outside alone especially at the beginning.

- No showering or bathing with hot water.

- No caffeine because it won't mix good in your body while on period.

- Always have your heating pad with you.

- Ask them(!!) when you need something, no matter what.

- Try to get as much sleep as possible.

You despised the list but at the same time you were unbeliveably thankful for Steven.

What's worse? Jake and Marc are mentally glued to the rules as much as Steven is. Once you even threw the list into the trash and told Steven it was Khonshu who got rid of it. But it only earned some grumpy yapping from the god himself.

Of course they didn't believe you. Jake even went as far as to wrap a copy of the list up in foil and hung it onto the wall in your room.

Whenever you were grumpy or pissy, Jake found it funny, Marc did too a bit, but he knew his boundaries and only tease you when you were clingy. Steven was the one who would always make half of his mind pay attention to you non-stop. You couldn't tell what he seemed to have studied more, Ancient Egypt or your menstruation cycle.

Now you're sitting against the headboard of your bed, heating pad on your belly and some tea on the nightstand Steven made you before they left for a mission. Since they're on a mission today and you were in need of more stuff, you texted Steven to get them afterwards.

Steven?

Yes love? Need something?

Yes; Pads, tampons, chocolate since there's nothing left, something salty, some juice and pain killers. Thanks!

Of course love, I'll make it quick! Love you!

You usually hated yourself for asking them to get something for you, you didn't wanted to get pampered by them.

While you were waiting for Steven to return, you got up and headed for the kitchen to look for something good looking. At this point, it didn't matter what, you were in need of something snacky looking.

Opening the fridge, you immediately spotted a Strawberry milkshake but it had M.S slapped onto it. You let out a soft annoyed growl, looking around the fridge again until your eyes landed on a chocolate pudding, this one had 'JAKE' written on it.

"Fuck it." you cursed under your breath, swiftly taking the strawberry milkshake from Marc and the pudding from Jake. You'll promise to buy them the things back, and you knew even Jake and Marc wouldn't dare mess with you when you're on your period because you could become unpredictable. Back in your room, you smiled to yourself, sitting back on your bed and opening the pudding.

Steven came back awhile later, carrying the things you requested in a bag. "Love, I'm back!" he announced before entering your room, earning a surprised look from you as he saw you slurping on Marc's milkshake with the empty pudding which he remembered was Jake's on the nightstand. You just gave him an innocent smile and Steven looked a bit lost.

"Wow."

"Hi."

"I got the things you wanted."

"You're such a sweetheart Steven."

Steven nodded at the stuff you had snatched, "Got snacky?"

"Yeah, tell Marc and Jake I'll buy them new ones. And thank them with the best regards from me because it helped me out."

You could already imagine how Jake would tell Steven the exact price of his pudding.

"Uh-uh, all right, sure." Steven replied, walking over to you to hand you the bag. "Is this what you wanted?"

You took the bag and looked inside. "Yep. You are a life saver."

"Charming." Steven smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Aside from the cramps I get here and there I'm feeling okay." You got up, grabbing the neccesities for your period and went to the toilet while Steven took care of your requested snacks.

After you were done in the toilet you felt headache starting to plague you.

"Steven?"

"Love?" He was in the kitchen.

"You got those pain killers?" You asked, stepping inside.

"Got headache?"

"Yup."

"Alright, but only one."

"Steven!" you pouted, wanting nothing more than getting rid of the headache.

"Fine, take the whole thing." He threw the pain killers into your direction and you catched it.

"You're lucky I can catch, otherwise you'd have to hand them over to me."

"You're cute."

"Cute? My insides look like someone's shooting a horror movie."

"Don't worry, you'll get better soon." Steven only smiled.

You forced a mock smile, making Steven chuckle before you went to get a glass of water, one pain killer and chunked it down.

Taking a deep breath, you finished the glass, put it down and turned around to face Steven who was reading something, feeling a wave of regret coming at you for being grumpy.

"Steven."

He looked up.

You hugged yourself, making your way to him

"Stevy, I'm sorry for acting like an asshole." You said softly, hugging him from the side.

"It's alright, love."

"No." You insisted, resting your head on his shoulder. "One moment I'm like an ungrateful little shit and a second later I'm acting all sugarcoated like some puppy."

"It doesn't bother me at all."

"You're lying. Don't lie."

"I'm serious."

"No, admit it, Steven."

"Y'know what? You're cute."

"Shut up." You chuckled, hugging him tighter.

"Did you even sleep while I was away?"

"I couldn't." You mumbled into his shoulder. "Can you come with me? I need a comfort pillow."

Steven beamed "Of course!"

He got up and you two returned to your room, Steven got into bed behind you, pulling you against him to spoon you, resting his warm hand on your belly in hopes of making your cramps better.

"I can't sleep. But it's nice anyways."

Steven nuzzled your neck, buried his face into it and inhaled contendly.

Both of you just laid there, enjoying the moment. Your hormones were going absolutely nuts, and you felt yourself getting a bit horny too.

A small moan came out of you, one you thought you could hold back.

"You alright?" Steven asked softly.

"I-, yes. Yes I am." You lied, already feeling ashamed enough.

"Didn't sound like that. Need somethin'?"

"I'm good."

"You know the rules, darling. Anything you need, tell us. Anything."

"My hormones..."

Usually whenever you got horny while on period, you simply ignored them and they would go away on their own, but now it was difficult.

"You mean those sexy time hormones?"

"The what?" You laughed a bit.

"Want me to get into details?"

"God no, please don't."

Steven propped himself on his elbow, looking down at you. "I read about that, love. And I want to help you feel better."

You shook your head, "No, it's okay, I ignore them everytime."

Steven raised his eyebrow, "Sorry? You ignore them?"

"Yes. They go away." You shrugged.

"Darling..." Steven scolded gently, he didn't like how you were suppressing your feelings at all. "Might aswell add another rule to the list."

"Don't you dare."

"So you promise you tell us when you get a bit funky from now on?"

"I promise." You were crossing your fingers inside your head, you simply didn't want to make them pleasure you just because of your hormones.

"Good. And no need to be ashamed, it's your body after all." Steven smiled.

"But you know... blood?"

"We get blood on our hands most of the time, love." He laughed. "So, are we going to take care of your needs now?"

You hesistated for a second. "Alright."

Steven headed to the bathroom to get a towel while you laid down on your back and placed the towel underneath.

Steven moved onto the bed, laying on his side, moving his hand on your stomach. "Still in need?"

"Steven, now you've started it." You laughed.

"I see. Let me take care of you." He teased, moving to hover over you, leaning down to kiss your neck while his hand moved to slip under your panties.

You felt yourself becoming more needy as Steven started to grind himself against you.

"Getting a bit eager too?" You couldn't help but tease him.

"Can't help it, darling." Steven pulled back, kneeling down between your legs and pulling your panties down. The pad had only some blood stains and you were reliefed by it.

"Don't faint now, Mr. Knight." You chuckled.

"You better make sure to follow our rules from now on." He roasted back with a cheeky smile, his hand slipped down on himself to get his already hard dick out.

He positioned himself above you, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive entrance.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" He asked concerned.

"No." You smiled reassuringly.

Steven nodded before pushing his cock into you slowly, feeling the hotness surround him.

"Fuck you're burning hot in there." He gasped.

"Stevyyy..." You whimpered.

Steven started moving slowly, not minding the blood that's beginning to stain his cock.

"But it feels so good, love..." You could see Steven's eyes rolling back into his skull.

"F-fuck Steven, please keep going... faster." It simply felt too good and you felt yourself getting more horny.

Steven sped up, slamming into you hard and deep.

-

You felt your sudden orgasm approach really fast.

You gripped his wrist tightly, signaling your imminent orgasm. Steven's breath came out in gasps, and a moment later, you clamped down on him.

"God, it's so hot..." Steven moaned.

"Steven, please k-keep going, I-I'm-..."

At this point your body got turned upside down, just seconds after your first orgasm, a second orgasm ripped through you, coating Steven's cock even more as he was shooting his cum into you.

"Oh fuck..." You panted.

Steven pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

"Yeah you definitely needed that." He breathed.

"Phew... thanks for this, Steven."

"See? That's why we're here for you." He gently nudged your arm.

After some time calming down, you decided a shower was in order.

"Stevy? You don't mind if I take a shower, yes?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Absolutely, go ahead."

You got up, taking the towel with all the mixed juices with you and your panties and made your way into the bathroom.

"And no hot water, you hear me?!" Steven called out.

"Warm water!" You called back, turned on the water, adjusted the temparatur and stepped in.

-

Finished with your shower, you returned to Steven, who was still laying on your bed, waiting for you.

"How are your third degree burns, Stevo?"

He turned his head to look at you, patting the spot beside him. "I'll survive."

"And Marc and Jake? Are they complaining about being castrated?" You chuckled.

"Nope. But my, my, What a spirit you have once you let it out, love." He laughed.

"Can't complain." You grinned, slipping inside the bed next to Steven, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

"Now your cuddly side comes out, yeah?"

"Yes. That means you're not getting up until I say so unless you want me grumpy." You smiled, scooting upwards to tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

"You know I love being your comfort pillow." Steven ran his fingers through your still damp hair, making you melt into him.

You sighed contendly, "Steven?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I've told you this like every other time but thank you for bearing me during this."

"We love you, we could never not be with you."

"I don't deserve you guys. I mean, my body feels like it's tearing itself apart and all that..."

"Love, you mean everything to us. And just because you get your grumpy time every month doesn't mean we don't love you."

"Thank you. All of you." You kissed his cheek, feeling the tireness come over you before settling back down on Steven and let yourself fal asleep.

[naamahdarling]

Edit: Thank you all so, so much. I am incredibly moved and incredibly grateful for everything you all have done. Donations, signal boosts, kind words. We can cover their food for at least one month. Anything sent from here out is most welcome and will go towards their needs, but the food crisis is past for now!

The extra will be held until Raleigh sees the specialist on the 11th and either put towards vet bills or used to get him more of his stinky wet food.

----

Guys, we REALLY need help paying for cat food. This is not normally an issue, they come first, but a lot of bad shit happened this month and it has literally taken everything we had. I have tried my hardest to stretch their food to the end of the month but the boys, all three, are out of scrip food TOMORROW.

I'm so sorry. I don't want to be doing this.

It isn't helped by the fact that their food has shot up in price so much I can't believe it.

Please if you can help we would be so grateful. Just five bucks. My boyfriend's PayPal is theothershea@gmail.com.

We need a total refill on Dried Pickle Man/Sid tummy care kibble, and hopefully a month of wet food for Raleigh, which is around $300 for it all. That sadly isn't an error. That isn't even touching the cost of their vet plans and vet debt, which are another $300, and we are behind by about $100 on the vet plans. But all we really need is most of that $300 for food.

The boys can't be off their scrip food. Sid becomes violently ill (I had to buy hospital biohazard spill absorber for when he throws up) with even a little regular food, and Dried Pickle Man eats the same food he does. For Raleigh, well, he's dying. He needs to be kept comfortable for what time he has left and without this food he develops extremely painful and very dangerous urinary crystals very fast and without wet food he can't eat without severe pain in his mouth. We are trying to fix his teeth but need clearance from a specialist which we cannot get until July. He has already been off his scrip food for a couple of days.

We have gotten along this far via Patreon every month, which pays for a lot of the cat stuff, but PayPal and Patreon are holding over $700 of our money due to some sort of technical issue and I don't know when that can be resolved. Without it, we will have nothing in either bank account by the end of the month. Like. Nothing.

We need help. Badly.

Again, my boyfriend's PayPal is theothershea@gmail.com.

All money will go to him to get food for the cats and pay for their monthly plans and medical debt.

This is Raleigh, who will take your fingers and kiss them if you hold your hand out. Please at least help us get wet food for him so he can eat without pain while he is still here to hold my hand.

(If Raleigh does pass before his food runs out, we can easily return the remaining cans and put that money toward the cost of the euthanasia.)

(Reference, reference. These foods cost the same everywhere I can find, and have gone up in price a lot because greedflation, which is a big part of why paying is suddenly more of an issue.)

[carlsangel]

DON’T BE SORRY

carl grimes x reader

(carl comforts you.)

tags: angst, fluff.

masterlist here!

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM, DEATH

You used to feel so alone, so empty. Like nothing could fill the pit in your heart where you stored the love from your family. They were everything to you, losing them made you feel endless pain that would never go away. You couldn’t cope with it all, you only felt pure affliction.

The one way you knew how to cope was something you had to hide, at least you felt that way. You didn’t know what to do without your family, you’d felt like somehow it was all your fault. Maybe you could’ve done something, be more useful and actually save them. Maybe it wasn’t helpful to take it out on yourself instead of putting the anger towards what actually killed your family, the walkers. You couldn’t help it though. You truly felt you killed your family.

It occurred to you that maybe the last thing you’d need in this world was to inflict more pain on yourself but it had somehow made you feel better, like you were getting what you deserved. You could get by a while without hurting yourself but occasionally situations would happen that reminded you of everything.

There was one time in particular that really got to you. You were tracking a deer for a while, granted tracking wasn’t your best strong suit but you thought you’d give it a shot. You followed it for hours. You successfully shot it and it ran but it didn’t get far. When you got to it, it was taken down by a swarm of walkers. It just looked too much like when the same thing happened to your family. You burst into tears and ran.

It was a common thing for this to happen but one day, someone saved you from the swarm. He came in with a couple others and they took them down for you and invited you back to their settlement. You almost wanted to say no. You didn’t want to risk caring for more people, losing them and then pay the price for that loss.

The boy who saved you was named Carl, he was your age and he quickly became your best friend, eventually your boyfriend. He managed to make you feel okay about everything. He told you how it wasn’t your fault, that you shouldn’t blame yourself for the death of your family. He was so gentle with the way he treated and loved you. There’s nothing he loved more than gently kissing around your body but you made it a point to him to not kiss your arms, you tended to pull away.

You didn’t want him to know, you were worried of what he’d think of you. He never gave you a reason to believe he’d be angry at you or anything like that but you were still nervous about it. He never wanted to pry as to why you didn’t want him kissing your arms because he respected you enough to not mention it unless you did.

You never planned on telling him, but you didn’t want him to find out either. Unfortunately, when he did find out, it wasn’t on your own terms.

“Hey wake up.” Carl pokes at you while you were sleeping peacefully in your bed (you guys had nightly sleepovers.) You pry your eyes open and look up at him, sort of giving him a mean look for waking you up. “Cranky.” He says, looking down at you with a cute little smile. “Yeah cranky. I’m so sleepy.” You sit up and yawn while he walks around the room. “We have to go check the snares my dad put out yesterday. He’s hoping for rabbits.” Carl explains, grabbing clothes from your closet and tossing them at you.

“Rabbits? For what?” You stand up slowly, stretching out your limbs. “Uhh I think Carol wants to make some stew. I dunno.” He replies briefly. You finish up changing and arm yourself with a handgun as well as a large knife. You both head out to go check the snares. The first two you checked were empty, which made sense since Rick set them out late last night in clearer areas.

When you get to the last snare, the both of you were pleased to find out that it caught a larger rabbit. You unlatch it and pack it away. “Carol’s gonna be excited. I know she’s been wanting to make stew for a while-” You were cut off by the sound of guttural screams coming from somewhere deep in the forest. There was no doubt you’d follow them to help whoever it was.

You and Carl ran through the woods, following the screams with your guns in hand. The screams get louder and louder as you approach and you pray that you’ll be able to save them. When you reach them, it was too late. The man was already on the floor, being ripped to shreds by the undead. Carl was with you, but somehow that didn’t seem to help this time. You remember your family, you couldn’t save this man just like you couldn’t save them. You run off back home, not even taking the walkers out, not waiting for Carl.

You go home in tears, you walk up the stairs not acknowledging anyone else who lived in the house because you simply couldn’t look at anyone. You change your clothes to try and distract from the pain of it all and blink your tears away. You stand for a moment trying to navigate what exactly to do next but your mind strays to one solution. You walk over to your dresser and dig to the bottom where you kept a little box. The little box where you kept razors. Every time Carl looked for clothes for you, you were worried he’d find it. He never did.

You grab the box and contemplate for a moment. Did you want to do this? It’s been a while since you last indulged but something about this time was different. You head over to the bathroom and shut the door. You breathe heavily, thinking about the man. His life ended because you didn’t run fast enough. Your mind was made up.

You sit on the edge of the tub and set the box of razors on the toilet lid. You open it and take one out, looking at it while wiping your tears away. You slide your sleeve down a little and stare at the scars from past times you’d done this before. You go for it, but are interrupted by the sound of voices downstairs. You listen for a moment before putting the blade back up to your arm. Before you know it, Carl bursts into the bathroom.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry-” He looks at you and the blade in your hands as you scramble to put it away and hide the box. “N-no I’m sorry I shouldn’t be…” Your voice trails off as you try to find the words to explain yourself. “Don’t be sorry.” He walks closer to you and kneels so he can see you better. He takes off his hat and places it on the counter. He rests his hands on your knees as he looks at you with pure love.

“Is that why you don’t like the kisses?” He lifts his hand up to wipe the tears from your face. He holds your cheek delicately and you nod into his hand. More tears roll down your face and he leans in closer to kiss them away. “They told me you were upset.” He says, referring to the Alexandrians you lived with. “It was the man, wasn’t it?” He holds your hands, gripping them tightly. You nod once more. He pulls your hand up to kiss them. “That’s not your fault. None of this is your fault okay? I promise you, I’d never lie to you.” He murmurs, kissing your hands between each sentence. You knew he was being honest, he always was. Carl never beat around the bush, but he was never brutally honest, he was always soft with you.

“Can I…?” He gestures to your arms and looks to you for approval. You look at him and hesitate but nod, sniffling a bit. He rolls your sleeve down slowly and he looks at you before leaning down to place soft kisses over your scars. Didn’t leave a single one un-kissed. He pulled the sleeve down your other arm and repeats the process. Every single scar was kissed. He always knew how to make you feel loved. He looks at you and studies your face like he’s done thousands of times before. He leans up to kiss your nose, then your forehead and then your cheek.

Carl leans forward and hugs you tightly. He sits there and tells you how much he loves you over and over.

Now, your heart feels fuller than ever.

a/n: i hope i did this well, i really like it even though i’ve never written a fic like this before. it took me a while to get out bc i really did my research for it to make it best i could. i also had a ton of school stuff to deal with. thank you anon for the request <3 my inbox is nowww empty so if you guys want plsss send some requests.

[hauntedhokage]

𝒅𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅

word count: 2.6k

summary: Dating Reo is a dream. If only he knew who you were.

You live a very spoiled life. You supposed that was the massive perk of dating a Billionaire’s son.

You want for nothing, except for your boyfriend to know who you are. 

Reo was sweet; kind and gentle, taking your wants and needs into consideration when making decisions, but he truly didn’t know anything about you these days. Even though you’d known each other since middle school, he didn’t really know you. It’s not something you think about when you initially start dating, after his time in Blue Lock he’d wanted to go get what he wanted besides a World Cup win - and that was you. 

And at first, it was wonderful. Being wined and dined, spoiled rotten, and basking in the affection he sent your way. In the early months, you did almost everything together and you both loved that way. Stolen kisses in between clothing racks, the way he’d gently reel you back in to fix a piece of hair gone astray, even the way he just looked at you radiated love. You were royalty, Reo’s little princess that got everything you wanted and everything he thought you wanted. There was no request too big, too expensive, too impossible - if you wanted it, he was going to get it for you. But that came at a price, one that you’re not sure you can continue to pay with how isolating dating Reo gradually became. 

He had confessed to you before the Blue Lock program had started, saying that he’d adored you from afar and would like for you to consider being his girlfriend. And he was so cute, flushed cheeks while he played with his hair - a nervous tick of his that was rarely seen due to the confidence he carried with his father’s billions stacked behind him to ensure that he was standing up straight even when he might be on the losing side of the battle. You couldn’t say no to him, having also watched him from afar, top of the class while you came in third behind Nagi. He was smart without his father’s money, and didn't need a bankroll to help him climb to the top. Reo was impressive in every sense of the word, you could tell that he wanted more than to be simply the Mikage heir - he wanted to leave the gilded cage his parents had him secured in since birth. Nagi held the key to that cage; the white haired teen unlocked Reo’s path to his dream and released him into the world of soccer, and all Reo had to do was ask to have the opportunity to spread his wings. 

Which was funny, considering that when Reo returned from the Blue Lock program, seeking you out at your home with a request to take you out on a date because that’s what boyfriends do, right? began the process of your own wings being clipped. It was a slow pain, something you hadn’t even realized was happening at first. His touch was kind, words soothing as he assured you that he’d take care of you for the rest of your life. Money wasn’t an object, it would never be, because he’d always loved you and the time apart made him realize how much. 

The admission had you flushed, heart beating so hard you thought it’d beat out of your chest. Did he kick goals as hard as he’d blindsided you with that information? You were both eighteen, still just children in the grand scheme that was life, but he looked like he could take on the world now that he’d been freed of a sizable portion of the expectations placed upon him from a young age - now that his parents supported his dream of winning a World Cup. He looked so confident, opening the door to a cage you hadn’t realized existed but for you to be placed into rather than for him to return. 

Dating Reo was painful at times, never physically, but the realization that he didn’t really know you was a very deep pain that came with your wings being clipped. You were a trophy, there to be shown off, but you did believe deep down that he did love you, he was just forgetful sometimes. With soccer and the things he did for the company, he was busy. You could appreciate how hard he worked, and understand why some things might slip his mind and why presentation meant a lot to him and his family.

The decrease in memory starts small, he’d brought home flowers to you, stating that the roses were your favorite color, only to be surprised when you jokingly told him that he’d been so busy lately that he’d forgotten your favorite color. Embarrassed, he’d quickly requested someone go get flowers in the correct color with a coordinating vase and to be quick about it. Such an error was unacceptable, despite you assuring him multiple times that the flowers he’d brought were beautiful and that you didn’t need a different bouquet brought home. On occasion he’d slip on information you know you’d given him previously - where you were born, names of the pets your parents kept, those kinds of little things. Things that weren’t major in the larger concept that was your life together, but things that stung a bit that he could forget after being with you for so long.

The transgressions increase in severity after two years together. Your middle name, how long you’d been dating, and he continued to forget your favorite color. It wasn’t a difficult piece of information to hold onto, you had many clothes in that color and had even coordinated your bedroom and bathroom to your desired color. He was surrounded by reminders of the things that made you happy, and still he proves that you’re something he could put on a mantle. As if appeasing you was easy if he just bought you things he thought you wanted when all you really wanted was for him to sit down and just appreciate you and your love for him, not try to buy your continued affection. The fact that he clearly thought that he did was actually insulting. 

One day you’re out for lunch with Nagi, something that Reo had been invited to but had a last minute engagement that he needed to be at. Which was fine, the time away from your keeper was definitely needed at times - and Nagi could shed some light on what was going on in Reo’s head sometimes. The two were on the same wavelength, brains set to the right radio station but also at times sharing just one brain cell, today you hoped Nagi had it. He also was terrible at keeping secrets, not fully understanding the need to hold onto things like that when it was exhausting to keep information to yourself or worry about secrets shared with confidants being shared to their circles. Life, to him, was easier when things just happened and he didn’t need to worry about things like that. This is why he was the one that would be able to tell you what Reo thought when it came to you. 

“Sei,” you start, leaning back in your seat a bit while you watch him pick at his salad. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess,” he mumbles back before yawning, something that makes you smile because he’d never change. 

“Why does Reo forget things that are important about me?” The unspoken question being does he even love me? and you know that Nagi sees that in the way you look at him. 

“Reo is just like that, he’s got a lot going on in his head,” is the only answer you get, and that has you sighing as you move your own food around your plate with your fork. That wasn’t a helpful answer at all, typical Nagi. “Why?”

“If I asked you what my favorite color was, what would you say?”

He’s able to answer without hesitation, something that has you ready to cry. Even Nagi could answer that question, but Reo faltered every single time. It was disheartening; you knew Reo inside and out - at least you thought you did - but he couldn’t even extend the effort to remember something so small. 

“And do you know when my birthday is?”

“It was last week, wasn’t it?”

You nod, and you see the realization cross Nagi’s face - Reo had forgotten your birthday, of all things. Your favorite color was something small, something that could change over time, so something like that could be forgiven if he’d ever guessed a color close to previous colors you’d like. Your anniversary was barely remembered last year, but he didn’t know how many years together you were celebrating - and he’d forgotten your birthday. It wasn’t even worth writing down to him, it didn’t matter. You didn’t matter.

Your anniversary comes a month after, this being an event Reo actually showed up for. Only he’d bought a dress that you’d never wear nor had you ever looked at; something expensive and shimmery and it was beautiful, sure, but not something you’d wear comfortably. But you wear it anyway, smiling when he tells you that you look great, and letting him take you to the car. The whole ride is spent with him telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is to be with you, and you hold back the question that rests on the tip of your tongue - did he truly love you?

Because, really, you were fucked without Reo. You hadn’t had a job since you were eighteen, with no savings independent of his family’s money, with nowhere to go since you were without money to spend to get out. You don’t think it was intentional, Reo was an asshole but he wasn’t manipulative. That wasn’t in his bones at all, which was a small relief in this entire situation, but didn’t help matters at all.  

You sit through dinner, smiling and nodding along to the stories he was telling about his time away and last work trip - he had so much going on, it was very exciting. While you were left in Japan to sit in your home that had become your own shiny cage, with people not understanding why you sulked by the pool or slept until noon some days. You didn’t spend the Mikage’s money frivolously, because you didn’t date Reo for the money - you dated him because at one time he saw you. You could do anything you wanted, go shopping, buy a new car, even just go to another country for a week or two - maybe a month, he probably wouldn’t notice you were gone. 

Then he proposes. It’s quiet, not wanting to draw the attention of the whole restaurant, and that much you’re grateful for. Because you want to marry him, you really do. Despite it all, you loved him dearly, especially in those moments where it felt like the world around you didn’t exist and you saw in his eyes and gentle gestures that he did love you. 

He just didn’t know you anymore. 

“Don’t leave me hanging, here,” he teases, still holding the box in his hands that held a beautiful ring with a large diamond but not so large that it looked excessive. He did know that much about you, excessive displays of his wealth were not something you liked being part of. He was rich but it was unnecessary to show off what everybody already knew. “Is everything okay?”

“Reo,” you start, taking his hand in both of yours and leaning into the table as he starts to look nervous. “I do really want to marry you. I love you, but I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“You don’t know anything about me anymore. You change my favorite color every couple weeks, you missed my birthday, don’t know my favorite snack, even this dress. It-it’s like you don’t love me for who I am, but who you might be able to mold me into.” You’re trying not to cry, seeing the way his face contorts in an effort to control his own tears. This was a rough conversation to have in a restaurant; in a perfect world you’d have this conversation at home, but you don’t live in a perfect world. “I can’t marry you if you don’t even know my favorite color. I’m surprised you remembered it was our anniversary, I never see you at home anymore and when I do we’re sleeping.”

But you know it’d be better for your situation to stay in the shiny cage and let him lock the door. Money was something you didn’t have on your own, and you wouldn’t ask Reo for a severance package - that was just bad taste. You can see him trying to process what you’re saying, the complaints you’ve had bubbling up inside for a while - things you wanted to talk to him about in person, you that was impossible since he was rarely home while you were awake. 

“We need to spend more time together, I agree,” is all he says at first, and you nod with a small frown that it took him this long to notice it. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“You’re never home. Between soccer and the company, I never see you and this isn’t something we should talk about over the phone.” You’re trying to keep your voice low, being mindful of your location and not wanting him to be embarrassed. “You can send all the gifts in the world but that will never make up for the fact that you don’t know who I am anymore. You can’t just buy me, Reo.” 

“I would never try that,” he defends, and you sigh as you lean back in your seat. The box holding the ring closes, your stance having been made perfectly clear - you would not become Mrs. Mikage if he didn’t put more effort into caring for you. “You wanna come with me to France next week? We can go somewhere nice, not Paris because I’ve heard it’s gross there.”

You only nod, something that makes him smile again while getting up so he can kneel beside your chair. His hands settle on your thigh, carefully rubbing circles on your knee that make you smile - that’s something he used to do when you’d first started dating. Something he still knew you’d enjoy, and the way you cup his cheek has him leaning into your hand while maintaining his eye contact with you. 

“You also forgot my birthday, which is sad because even Nagi remembered, and he usually doesn’t care about things like that.” The way his face pales makes you feel proud inside, knowing that he knew for sure that he’d been a terrible partner to you, “And, for your information, my favorite color is all over our bedroom and bathroom. Don’t forget it.”

“Never again,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your knee before he stands and pulls you up to your feet. “Let's head home, I need to get to know my lady again.”

You’re picking the gilded cage, but trying to keep your grip on the keys before Reo can lock you in. You could control the situation if you kept him in line - prevent the continued development into being a trophy that he could flaunt just for being pretty. Holding the key meant that you had autonomy despite him having the money, just like how at one time Nagi held Reo’s key to the cage. You couldn’t let him lock you away. 

[dexastres]

anchor

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 777

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:00 A.M.

Jude lay in bed, restless, unable to escape his thoughts. Just like the night outside, his mind was clouded, each thought lost in shadow and silence. Sleepless nights had become commonplace for the young man because he was afraid to close his eyes, even for a second, knowing that this nightmare would come. It was always the same. It was haunting and ruining his hours of rest with images of her, wrapped in someone else’s arms. But this nightmare reflected his reality. Whether he was awake or asleep, Jude couldn’t escape it. He was tied to this reality. They went hand in hand.

He sighed and turned to the empty side of his bed, where she used to sleep. Four months had passed since their breakup, and her scent had faded from the pillow, a painful reminder of her absence. She was gone. She was no longer his, and she was happy with another guy. She no longer needed Jude in her life. She had found something better, away from the cameras, the rumours and the lies.

The young man sat on his bed, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Jude had seen this scenario happen before, but this time, he wasn’t crying. He used to hold back his tears, but now, whenever the feeling came over him, he would let them flow freely quietly, so his mother wouldn’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Jude regretted not fighting for her, for their relationship and for their friendship. The pain and hurt were unbearable, thinking about how he let her go so easily, and now he was paying the price.

“Why did I do that?”

His trembling hand reached for his phone. He scrolled through his messages. The latest were from his friends and teammates, asking if he was feeling better, since he looked tired during today’s training session.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He whispered again, rolling his eyes. The young man ignored them because he didn’t know what to say, other than to lie.

Jude sighed deeply and scrolled a little further before clicking on her contact. His heart clenched as he read their last messages before everything fell apart. He typed the words he wished he had told her back then, although he doubted she would read his messages. She had moved on and left him behind, lost in the memories of what they once shared.

“I’m sorry.”

“You deserve so much better. I regret everything.”

“I love you.” Jude took a deep breath. He knew better, but he didn’t care. Was he being selfish? Yes, but the temptation was too strong. He needed to hear her voice, even if it was from her voicemail. The young man brought the phone to his ear, feeling a knot in his stomach, and his throat dry.

“This is a terrible idea,” he thought, and just as he was about to hang up, he heard her tired voice.

“Hello?” Jude froze, holding his breath. He couldn’t believe she answered. “Hello?” she asked again. Jude opened his mouth, but no words came out. A storm of emotions rose within him.

“Hi,” he finally said in a barely audible voice.

“Jude? Why are you calling me at two in the morning?” he could sense the irritation in her voice, but he couldn’t blame her for it. She had every reason to resent him. “We haven’t talked in four months, and you’re suddenly calling me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, sorry, I must have called the wrong person. That wasn’t my intention.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t let her know the truth. He didn’t want her to know how lost and miserable he was without her. He didn’t want her to know that he spent his days thinking of her, wishing he could go back and undo everything.

“So, um… how are you? I saw your pictures with your boyfriend. You look good together. Congratulations.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it didn’t seem to work. She could hear the pain.

Jude felt the tears well up, and this time, he silently let them flow down his cheeks. He was so tired of fighting when he had lost the battle long ago.

“Jude? Are you crying?” she asked softly. The young man wiped his tears before ending the call.

2:45 A.M.

Jude lay back on his bed, feeling emptier than ever, like a black hole expanding. Tears continued to flow like a torrent while his phone kept vibrating on his bedside table.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m not with him anymore.”

[wolfnight2012]

So is the fandom at large still characterizing "Open Arms" as the ~pacifism~ song or have we gotten past that?

Like, I don't know how keen Polites was for violence as a soldier in the Trojan war, since we meet him after the fact & lose him soon after.

But "Open Arms" doesn't tell us about his capacity for violence. It barely tells us about his thoughts on violence as an option.

The most we can infer from "Full Speed Ahead" and "Open Arms" is that Polites doesn't believe violence is the only option (or the one they should jump to first.)

But that's not even what "Open Arms" is about (not really)

"Open Arms" is about Polites noticing Odysseus' trauma & trying to help his friend heal.

The first lines of the song are:

"I can tell you're getting nervous, so do yourself a service"

Here "nervous" isn't being used to mean "scared" but rather "anxious" or "tense." I think Polites is calling out the fact that Odysseus is going 'fight or flight' mode despite everything being calm/no threat in sight.

He then tells Odysseus to have hope.

"Think of all that we have been through, we'll survive what we get in to"

He then starts to call out Odysseus a bit more explicitly (and notice how Odysseus does not contradict him. After his first [and unconvincing imo] "I"m fine, Polites" Odysseus doesn't speak again until the lotus-eaters show up)

(Btw, if you wanna read my breakdown of Polites & Odysseus' relationship [as explicitly depicted in EPIC], I wrote a post about it here)

"I know that you're tired of the war & bloodshed" <-We the audience also know this: "Will these actions haunt my days/is the price I pay endless pain?" (Plus killing Astyanax messed him up)

"Tell me, is this how we're supposed to live?" <- Must we remain in that kill/be killed mindset, always on alert, always warriors first, men second?

"Look at how you grip your sword, enough said" <- I think we can infer that Polites is either calling out the fact that Odysseus hasn't let go of his sword since they left the ship (aka always in 'warrior mode' aka "is this how we're supposed to live?") OR that Odysseus is white-knuckling his sword, (aka he is nervous/ anxious/stressed about a potential attack despite no visible threats)

Either way, in Polites' eyes, this mentality is detrimental to his friends' mental and/or emotional health.

Then we get to the point where I think the misunderstanding started & ended up overshadowing the rest of the song:

"You can show a person that you trust them, when you stop and lower your guard" <- I think we can take this literally (lower your sword until you actually have need of it) or figuratively (be ~emotionally~ vulnerable by asking for help.)

"This life is amazing, when you greet it with open arms" <- It doesn't have to be "endless pain" Life can be beautiful, but you have to stop closing yourself off/seeing everything as a threat first

Polites is arguing that the world is not always out to get you. Sometimes people are decent. Sometimes they are willing (or want) to help you.

It's a bit of "Try extending your hand in greeting before reaching for your sword" (Not everyone will be friendly, but you won't know if you are aggressive from the get-go.)

And a bit "Life is what you make of it" (if Ody treats every stranger like an enemy, then that is what they'll be.)

"We'll be fine if we're leading from the heart" I talk a bit about this in my response here. TLDR; Odysseus is lying to himself when he says he can "Lead from the heart & see what starts" in "Luck Runs Out" because that is not what he is doing,(and his reward is the windbag betrayal) MEANWHILE he does successfully "lead from the heart" while warding off Circe's advances & it's what saves his men/gains Circe's sympathy.

"No matter the place, we can light up the world, here's how to start" <- Again, life is what you make of it. You can make it a good one; not everything is an enemy/potential threat. Stop being a warrior first & go back to being a man

Of course, this doesnt immediately work, because Odysseus greets the world with his sword when the lotus-eaters show up

(Tbh, I find it hilarious that the lotus-eaters' FIRST word is "Welcome" and Odysseus responds to a Friendly Greeting by drawing his sword)

Like, Odysseus is genuinely seeing a threat here, he IS scared "nervous"

His first words to the lotus-eaters is a demand/warning for them to "stay back" (and both their cute voices [going off audio only] or their canonical fluffy designs tell us these are tiny things. They have no weapons, they haven't indicated any aggression, but Odysseus is so high-strung he sees something he might need to fight anyways)

THIS is what Polites has been refering to. THIS is why he's so concerned about his friend. That is not healthy and Odysseus is buckling under the weight of living in "survival" mode/always being "on"

"My friend, greet the world with open arms" <- this isnt Polites horrified Odysseus is responding with aggression/concerned for the innocent lotus-eaters, THIS is Polites (knowing Odysseus is tired of war & bloodshed) reminding his friend that he doesn't have to put himself through this. There IS another way. These creatures could be friendly, "Maybe they'll share some food, who knows?" Maybe, maybe not, but they won't know until they extend a hand first & ask.

And Odysseus does it by half measures *cough* just like all his actions after "Just a Man"*cough*

He lets the lotus-eaters know of their plight "We're only here for food" and threatens them in the next breath "600 men are waiting/stay back, I'm warning you/my men will turn this place into blazes"

He doesn't even ask for food/help, he simply lets the lotus-eaters know they're searching for food, then immediately piles on three additional threats to make sure they don't try anything.

Then of course the lotus-eaters offer food, but not food they can eat & Odysseus becomes dejected (which I think implies he was [sorta] listening to Polites, or at the very least, is so tired/stressed/wrung-out that he was secretly hoping it could be as easy as Polites claims.)

And Polites tries one more time.

"I'd like to show my friend that kindness is brave" <- I've seen so many people call Polites naive. That his optimism is too extreme/and not fit for the world (or at least the world of EPIC) but i would disagree with this common interpretation as well.

Why is kindness brave? If Polites believed greeting the world with open arms would help them find ONLY friendly strangers (instead of hostile ones or outright foes) then why would kindness be brave. Wouldn't it simply be? After all, what's brave about a sure thing? What's brave about having a get-out-of-danger-free card?

Kindness is brave because sometimes you WILL be met with hostile strangers/foes. But you extend your hand in peace first anyways. You don't know for certain if you will be met with friend or foe. But that does not mean you walk around, one hand on your sword, seeing enemies at every turn. You greet the world with open arms & give strangers the benefit of the doubt first, THEN use force if necessary.

I see Polites' philosophy as similar to Waymond's from EEAAO in that regard.

Polites, like Waymond, is choosing kindness. Is choosing to be optimistic. Not because he is naive to the ways of the world, but in spite of them. That is how Polites fights against darkness & despair. He is not naive.

When Polites tells the lotus eaters he'd "Like to show my friend that kindness is brave" he knows he's taking a risk. That's why it's brave. He is extending his trust to these creatures in the hopes they'll help/they have no ill intent, BUT being Well Aware he could be met with the latter.

Just because he's optimistic about the outcome doesn't mean he doesnt understand the risk. To refuse to dwell on the negative doesn't mean you're unaware of negative possibilities.

Then Polites reiterates his advice "This life is amazing, when you greet it with open arms" because it doesn't have to all be war & bloodshed & stress. You CAN find goodness in the world, and you'll feel much better if you don't assume everyone & everything is out to get you. And he lets Ody know he's aware of what he's going through/what's upsetting him.

"I seen in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart" <- I genuinely don't know if the crew know Odysseus dropped Astyanax, every time Odysseus references the infant, it's vaguely or as an aside. But even if Polites DOESN'T know Odysseus killed an infant, he still has 10 years of war to draw from (plus the wooden horse/killing sleeping Trojans bit.) Like, Polites is aware of what Odyssues has done, he knows what Odysseus is grappling with. This is not a simple/superficial/naive call for Odysseus to 'cheer up!' Polites knows of the darkness weighing on Odysseus' shoulders & he's telling Odysseus he's allowed to put it behind him.

"So why not replace it, and light up the world" <- He's allowed. It's over. It's behind them. Polites does not want his friend to torment himself forever. Whatever he did, he can move on. He can be a better man that what he was forced to become while at war/Troy (remember, Polites is well aware Odysseus is "tired of the war and bloodshed".)

And how can Odysseus begin to heal from his guit/trauma?

"Greet the world with open arms" <- stop seeing every stranger as a potential enemy/threat. Open yourself up to the possibility that good things happen sometimes. Sometimes, people are kind

"Greet the world with open arms" <- and Odysseus begins to tentatively open himself up to the concept & take Polites' words to heart

"You can relax, my friend" <- you're allowed

Sidenote: I told myself this post would ONLY be about Open Arms (and this ended up being SO Much longer than I anticipated) but I have a few more things to say, so I'll try to be brief.

Warrior of the Mind:

I'm convinced Athena pops in when she does because Odysseus is listening to Polites. He's been eaten by guilt since Astyanax & shyed away from violence in Full Speed Ahead. His nervousness is not very "warrior of the mind" of him. YET Athena doesn't come in to scold Odysseus at any of these points.

It's only when Odysseus sings Polites' chorus back to him, signaling he's opening himself up to the concept of open arms that Athena makes her entrance.

Polyphemus:

I'm not asserting this, but I think the argument can be made that Odysseus checks out the cave because of Polites. Like, either:

A.) He's giving Polites' advice a try here & now by trusting the lotus eaters/that they mean no ill-intent OR

B.) (less likely probaby??) His friendship/affection for Polites is the sort where he wants to please him. Polites is set on trusting the lotus/showing Odyssues "another way" & Odysseus will humor him because it's Polites asking

(Tho obviously the other explanation is that they are just THAT desperate for food & Odysseus doesn't think they have time to go searching for yet another island when this one (the lotus eater one) already turned out to be a bust

Underworld:

I feel like the general consensus for Polites' section of "Underworld" is that Polites died still seeing/believing in the good of the world OR that his dying wish was for Odysseus to chose nonviolence/pacifism???

(But as you can tell from *gestures at this entire post* I don't subscribe to the idea that "Open Arms" is about nonviolence. THEREFORE)

We know Polites last words/action in life was calling for Odysseus. And, imo, Polites' dying wish was for Odysseus to heal. If "Open Arms" is about Polites' calling out Odysseus' stress/trauma & trying to coax Ody to approach life differently so he can start to move on from the horrors of war.

Then that means, in death, Polites is stuck hoping Odysseus heals. Over & Over Polites sings for his friend to let go of his guilt & try to build a life worth living (not just one have to survive in)

And THAT imo is 1000x sadder than a call for pacifism. Because Polites' dying wish doesn't come true. Odysseus' mental/emotional health grows worse & worse. He pushes everyone away in the Ocean Saga, to the point that his crew of 10 years starts to doubt him! He already "can hardly sleep" in the Circe Saga. The Underworld Saga almost destroys him and it only gets worse from there!

In the Underworld Odysseus is confronted with Polites' love for him. His desire for him to get better. His hope for Odysseus to find peace/happiness.

Polites loved him soooo much, his Final Thoughts were concern for his friend. (Then Ody gets to hear from his mom, who loved him so much she died waiting for his return)

No wonder it breaks him.

[Anyways, if you wanna see my (much shorter) post over how the Wisdom Saga basically argues for/confirms Polites' philosophy Was RIGHT, you can find it here]

[darkfire359]

Izzy and the Myth of the Perfect Victim

One thing that's often bugged me about people saying "Izzy got off on it" about Ed cutting off his pinky toe is how then they proceed to assume "and that makes it okay" (or "Izzy is undeserving of sympathy"), as if that somehow follows at all.

I've spoken before about how I actually DO read Izzy as feeling positively about the interaction—and how I think this makes the scene even more tragic, because it means Izzy was so desperately miserable before that he thought something like this had to be preferable to the status quo. Personally I think that having a toe cut off would be too painful to be arousing, even for a pretty extreme masochist. But even if it was, at the end of the day, Izzy's still going to be missing that toe for the rest of his life.

Plus, even aside from from the permanent effects... people can still be physically aroused by things they find deeply traumatic. It's pretty victim-blamey to imply otherwise. And regardless of how much awe and hope Izzy might or might not have felt, I think it's pretty obvious that he definitely felt fear. Izzy now knows, with absolute certainty, that he's not safe in his own bed anymore, not at all. Even if he doesn't act traumatized, and even if he thinks the sacrifice was worth it, it'd still be a hell of a price to pay.

...Which brings me to the clip from earlier today. One of the things that struck me about it was how Izzy isn't being nice. He's being mean and giving the crew objectively unreasonable orders that they hate. And the crew STILL reacts by seeing underneath that, seeing how much he is hurting and trying to offer support.

It was really refreshing to see, because Izzy cannot afford to stop and cry and ask for help. He doesn't think it's safe to be vulnerable around other people, and he's probably right—it's obvious how much Izzy doesn't believe in the orders he's shouting, but he still goes at it with a kind of terrifying desperation. Maybe Izzy not getting the crew to obey orders is what causes Ed to take off more toes. Or maybe he simply thinks that if he doesn't do his job, if he's not useful, that he'll simply be discarded. (Ed might care about Izzy a great deal, but for all Izzy knows, the only reason Ed saved his life at the end of e9 was because he needed Izzy to fetch him tea.)

Izzy reacts to a lot of the stress in his life in messy ways, and while that's not great, it also doesn't make his suffering any less real. No one is obligated to reach out to help the angry, shouty first mate who insists that he's fine... but it's really wonderful when they do. People are still worthy of compassion even when they can't be the perfect victim.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Scars

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of survivors guilt, heavy angst

Quiet Series

Took some inspo from thoughts shared between me and @thedevillovesflowers hope you like

Ghost wasn't unfamiliar with scars. He had a lot of his own. Some of them were from the field, a lot of them were from his time stuck in Mexico. A permanent brand on his skin to remind him what happened, as if he could forget, but they never really bothered him.

He made peace with them and though sometimes when he catches them in the mirror and remembers how he got it, he for the most part was indifferent about them.

You weren’t like that with your scars.

There were a few across your face and neck but he knew there had to be more you were hiding underneath your clothes. You shied away when someone pointed them out or when someone asked about them before you got that distant look in your eyes.

Whenever it happened around Ghost he’d get a little defensive for you, since you never told them to go away. He’d always give them a look, tell them to mind their business before they scurried off.

He knew what they could possibly be from and he understood why you didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t help the pit forming in his stomach when he looked at them from afar or when you weren’t paying attention to him, and the pit only grew when he noticed that they weren’t faded.

He never asked about them. It wasn’t his business and he didn’t tell you about his so there was no point.

Ghost just couldn’t imagine that ever happening to you and he couldn’t understand how you weren’t just like him.

You were guarded like him but you seemed to have so much more life about you than he did. You were a lot more kind than he was and yet you suffered the same way he had.

He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do if he ever found out who did it. He wasn’t sure if they were still alive but if they were he knew that some part of him would have a hard time controlling his anger.

You didn’t deserve what happened to you.

You wished you could believe that.

Every time you noticed your scars or someone pointed them out it always ended in the same all consuming guilt eating you alive until you found yourself laying underneath your bed for comfort.

Your scars were a harsh reminder of what happened, of how you failed, of how you betrayed your own.

They reminded you of your last team. The family you had once that you had again and how you being alive now betrayed them.

The scars reminded you of all the pain you went through, that being your punishment for being alive.

They reminded you of him.

He was the reason you ended up there.

He was the reason you were still here.

In the moments that you laid underneath your bed, the hard floors reminding you of your cell and giving you some sort of sick comfort as you closed yourself inside your mind, you blocked out the pain and tried to remember the good times before this.

The good times with your old team. The love you had felt for him before everything had been forcefully broken inside you.

He was still alive and he had the answers the 141 needed. He knew where Makarov was and would be, he knew at least the few things that would make the hunt easier, yet you couldn’t say anything about him.

The fear gripped you tightly. You would be punished for not saying anything, you’d be seen as complicit, the 141 would turn against you, but you couldn’t say anything.

He’d come for you. He knew it would be you because you were the only one left. He’d throw you back to the wolves…

“You won’t say anything, will you little mysh?” You can still hear his voice clear as day. You can still feel the heat from your blood running down your face, the copper and salt from your tears staining your mouth.

All you could do was nod.

You hoped that Price could find out where Makarov was before he showed himself again. If he found out you’d have to be on the run, you’d have to find some way to disappear if they didn’t kill you before you could escape.

Price would be furious.

Ghost would be too. Even more so maybe. You couldn’t imagine the pain he’d feel-

“Quiet?”

You didn’t even hear Ghost knock or enter your room, but his voice pulled you out from the riptide inside your mind.

He was a lot like him. Big, strong, scary and exceptionally good at his job. Sometimes when you got just a glance of him you saw him, and got scared.

But Ghost was warmer. He was protective, he didn’t possess you, he was kind in his own way and he trusted you. He made you feel safe.

He was not him.

You held your arms closer to you, pressing your face against the dusty wall. You ran in here after someone said something about your scars and then you spiraled.

You’re not sure how long you were under your bed, stewing in anxiety and dissociation before Ghost came to find you.

“I know you’re in here.” He grunted out and you heard him walk around for a moment. “Knock on something.”

Would he ask what was going on? Would he know, somehow read your mind?

Somehow you got the courage to raise a shaky hand and knock on the springs underneath your bed.

You didn’t turn around to look at him as you heard him kneel on the floor. You could feel his eyes on you and you felt shame wash over you.

You felt pathetic.

You were an elite special forces member and you were hiding underneath your bed like a child. You were having a mental breakdown when you needed to be healthy. They could kick you out for this.

But Ghost didn’t judge you, he was far from the person to judge for something like this.

“Have you had water?” He wondered and it took you a moment to shake your head. “Be back.”

You listened to him walk away before he came back with a glass of water. You glanced back to see him set it down just outside your bed, and you expected to see his eyes but all you saw were Ghost’s dark warm ones.

You couldn’t let that disappear.

“Dinner’s soon. I’ll bring you a plate.” He offered and you turned to him fully.

“Stay.” You signed. “For a little bit.”

“Don’t think I can fit under there.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and that seemed to make his shoulders loosen. You watched as he settled against your bed.

“If my back starts hurting, you’re doing laps.” He threatened jokingly and you giggled.

His warmth, his care made you forget about your scars even for just a moment.

A/n: who is him? why is him? Perhaps we’ll find out

[1lovepeace]

You better be reunited with Rayla. For she deserves humongous apologies from you as well as the full truth about everything. S5 and S6 better come through. I also hope you apologize to her and admit that you failed her.

Hi Runaan

I have a very difficult, very honest question for you. Does it bother, offend, and hurt you that people have and will always constantly disregard and question your love for Rayla? Saying things like it never meant anything to you, that you made her feel unloved, that you wanted her to suffer, that you abandoned her, considering all the hurt and pain you put her through, how could you do that to someone you love?. Do you believe that Rayla will ever truly forgive you for what you put her through? Because you technically contributed to her losses and sorrow.

*baffled elf noises* Why would someone else's incorrect opinion bother me? They are simply incorrect. I can continue with my life perfectly well without worrying about it.

I did my best for Rayla. When fate closed in around us, I stood in her place and drove her away to save her life. I know how rough I had to be with her to make her leave. Her feelings on the matter are her own. But I do hope that, deep down, she remembers how deeply I love her.

She's alive to make her own choices, and at the end of the day, I consider that my highest success.

[dangermousie]

I genuinely started screaming at this scene. Because JW gave info about bribes to the reporter right before confirmation hearing for his father which was nuts enough but unsurprisingly daddy was able to weasel out of it. And then this happens:

Look at Ju Won's face. He's bracing himself. He knows. HE KNOWS!!!!

This is a man who was expecting it. And not just because of his conscience or w/e, because I 100% bet he planned it. The thing is, it's an objectively an insane thing to do. Running your own unauthorized sting operation during which the mole dies because she comes across a serial killer and which you have by now reported to the proper police auditing authority is not something for which one needs to be arrested during a freaking confirmation hearing for one's father. It's highly unlikely to even be an offense from which you will be dismissed from the force let alone jailed. And both he and Dong Sik have to know this - so it has to be part of some sort of plan. (And also the thing is, Ju Won genuinely believes he should be punished and he's asked for punishment during the audit and got none because nobody wanted to piss off his father. I am sure at least some of this for Ju Won is driven not just by desire to crack the case about DS' sister but by his desire to be punished and if they won't do so otherwise, he will force the issue.)

The way he raises his cuffed hands when asked if he remembers LGH? I love that so much! Ju Won's belief in taking responsibility - not just by others but by himself - is probably the best thing about him. He is my favorite character in a drama full of great characters because he's such an absolutist idealist who applies his insane standards not just to others but to himself whatever the cost. He's a zealot and he's willing to immolate himself for what he thinks is just and I just love love love that in a character. (I mentioned before that he made me think of CWN in 2ha in insistence the same rules and punishment apply to him as to others; even if everyone else knows this is supposed to be only on paper he refuses to live in that reality. And the penalty for violating the law would not stop him from doing what he thinks is needed, but he will also insist on punishment. He believes that it's fair to pay the price for what one's done and it's worth it. He's whatever the opposite of a shirker is and I love that.)

Look at the looks on their faces. This was totally planned by them both or I will eat my nonexistent hat.

I think this is what draws DS to JW btw - he has been surrounded by people who shied away from facing their wrongdoings or the wrongdoings of their loved ones, who tried to hide them or forget them or ignore them - that even includes the Chief let alone everyone else - and then here is Ju Won who comes in as an awkward by the book martinet with seemingly unrealistic standards and HE LIVES UP TO THEM and keeps living up to them in insane circumstances. He will never hide or ignore or try to justify anything of his or his close ones. This is one person DS can always be certain of in that regard. The rest of the characters all have some sort of lever than can be found if one pushes hard enough to make them deviate; but not Ju Won. Because to deviate would be to destroy the basis of his self. It would never be worth it to him because he would not be able to live with it; the pain of whatever happens if he adheres to his code is immaterial compared to the destruction of him at his base that would happen if he failed to adhere.

[maximwtf]

“I’m sorry all the same”

Astarion x Reader

Words: 2600

Google Docs Pages: 4

Warnings: Haarlep’s deal’s effects, yk how it goes so I won’t have to tag it all :”D Some spoilers from act 3, such as quotes and a tiny bit of lore. Guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, after graveyard scene Astarion

Opening: Haarlep held onto his promise. Using your body, your form, to do as he pleased. And you were foolish enough to believe that you could ignore it. But perhaps you should have considered that at the very least someone would notice a change in your behaviour. 

AN// So wtf I write for bg3 now? I guess so :”D Mainly interested in writing for Astarion, Jaheira and Zevlor. But we’ll see how I’ll manage c: OH, GN reader. Yall also I’ll open requests again once I finish the last Legolas one I have :3

“I’m sorry all the same”

After the battle with Raphiel, everyone had been so worn out and in need of a breather that you hadn’t even had the time to truly consider what you’d lost. Or even truly notice the price of what had been lost in exchange for information. Or what that could possibly mean for the future or the people around you. And if any of those thoughts had had the chance to cross your mind, it would have only been the latter. What would the others think? How would it affect them? How would the exchange you’d had with Haarlep affect the people closest to you?

And it usually came to the same conclusion. Even if the bother from it would be minor, you’d chosen to try and avert the others from paying their mind to it. To let the incubus do as he pleased, as long as you could lead the party onward without slowing it down. But even the strongest of leaders had to fall in due time, that was fate set for those who chose what you had. Which in this case referred to the facade you’d built, shattering, cracking at the seams at times. And no amount of laughing it off could shake away certain people when they at last noticed what was wrong. 

And so had fate decided once more. The feelings of phantom touches trailed here and there. And as he had promised, you knew exactly what was being done and when. And there was no way of stopping it. Only the thought of this being what you chose lingered in your mind as the touches travelled that evening. Making you shut down of the usual glow you held when talking to others, hope of no one noticing your state still somewhere at the back of your mind. 

And it did work, for most of that evening. Fluently talking to the town’s folk and the people by your side. At times the feelings even faded, disappeared into thin air. Giving you hope that the incubus had stopped for the day, freeing you from the locked state as it felt. But what use was it, if even within those free moments it spiralled at the back of your mind. Reminding you of its existence and the chance of it all returning. On the edge of hoping that it would come back, so you wouldn’t have to suffer so with the thoughts. Because at times, it felt like those empty moments were the ones most pained. 

You tried to soothe the feeling of a never ending hell by telling yourself that this was momentary. The form was new and the creature knew exactly what it was doing. But as time passed, he’d surely get tired of the repeating game and move on to something else. And even if this truly was an infinite infernal road, you had chosen to walk it for a reason. You’d avoided a battle and gotten important information out of the man, which in truth cost a great deal. But if it meant that no one got physically hurt, it did seem like the right thing in the end. 

Inevitably, the time passed as it always had. The sun set, which led you along with the rest back to Elfsong. And for once, there was time in the late evening to sit around and talk. There was nowhere to go, no tasks to run and nothing so important that it couldn’t be left to be dealt by tomorrow. The morning was always smarter than the night, anyway. 

But there was something that wouldn’t allow itself to be left alone, to linger until the sun rose once more. The now more intense phantom touches, the caresses that haunted you. Had ruined most of the day and seemed to plan on continuing to do so. 

As it made itself more known, demanding your every bit of attention, it slowly reached your limit. The top of which when it hit, would at last shatter that rather fragile facade. The facade that at times felt like it was being held together by whatever cheap adhesive children held the glitter on the cards they brought to their parents. Weak. 

The fireplace flickered calmly as the few people in the middle of the room sat on the couches and chatted. You tried your best to throw in a few comments but from your perspective they all sounded the same, forced. It was no use, after being driven to a corner as you’d been. So in order to save face, you stood up and informed the others that you’d be heading to bed to catch up on those countless hours of disregarded sleep. And most seemed to have believed that, wishing you a good night as you slowly walked to the comfort of your bed. 

Though, there was one who’d joined in on the others, wishing you a good night. But they didn’t hesitate to stand up and follow along after you’d left. And they didn’t exactly make the noise of their steps unknown either. Never sneaking up on you, especially at moments such as these. Which was a hint enough to make the conclusion that he knew what was going on. You’d feared for that earlier. Earlier when a pair of eyes had followed your movements and interactions with the others. 

So of course you knew who it was, who it always was. It gave you enough peace of mind to sit down calmly before turning around to face him, attempting to keep up the nonchalant facade of an expression. He stared down at you, the expression on his face awaiting. Like he expected you to tell him something. Making it almost feel as if this was frequent enough to make you expect him and tell him you knew why he was there. And that sadly was the truth. How awful that he’d started to care now that you’d gotten yourself into a mess. But there was a way to dodge this bullet. “You can feed on me tonight if you’d like?” And all you could do was watch his expression fall for a moment, taken aback by the response to his knowing look. But the fun of that didn’t last for very long, he was serious. “Darling, no. This isn’t the time, and you know that yourself.” He answered. Boring, you thought. But regretted the rebellion in your mind straight after. “Well in that case, I’ll get some rest,” you informed him before tucking yourself under the familiar blanket. You knew the vampire couldn’t say much else, nor do anything. He didn’t wish to start any commotion. So the only option left was to drop the topic, there was no use in trying to force anything out of you. And he knew that, respected the choice and left for his own bed. 

But the sleep you’d told yourself would eventually come, never did. The touches never relented, at times becoming more faint but at that point it meant nothing. The sound of the others slowly drifting to their beds and the chatter quieting down got your attention for a moment. But after that it all fell back into the same old silence, in which the condition you were in felt the worst. Because breaking the silence at times like these with any of the sounds you’d held back would have shattered whatever crumbs of self respect you were holding on to. 

Saying that hours had passed since the others had fallen asleep sounded like an overestimate, but then again it wouldn’t have been a surprise. This wasn’t the first time the incubus had done this, you wouldn’t have been oh so familiar with all of this if it had been so. And just like any other time, you laid awake. And to truly follow the usual protocol, the decision to leave and get a breather was the next obvious choice. 

With careful steps, which through thorough practise had learned which plank didn’t squeak, you escaped the pestering silence. Then again, this time of night it seemed just as quiet anywhere you went. A lucky catch if you heard commotion somewhere nearby when entering the terrace outside. Which is where you’d headed, sat down on one of the chairs that sat lonely in a corner. 

It wasn’t necessarily the fresh air that helped, the night air was always so cold anyway. But it was the feeling of not being a bother, not letting absolutely everyone around you have to listen and worry. Worst of all, feel bad. 

A shaky sigh mixed with something like a whine escaped as you leaned back against the wall behind the chair. Eyes closed, there was finally a moment of something that resembled peace. Peace, if you fully excluded the plaguing touches and caresses. A sound dangerously close by got your attention though, getting your eyes to snap open. Nothing but the endless hell with the incubus seemed to last that night. 

In the faint light of the terrace it took you an embarrassing amount of time to even make out a shape. Nevertheless, figure out who it was. But maybe you could blame it on the feelings you were experiencing, later on. Just to save face. 

The figure, now determined to be who you should have expected. Astarion, made his way over. He sat down rather calmly and stayed quiet before drawing in a breath and talking. “Assuming you won’t tell me otherwise, I hope there's nothing troubling you my dear?” You always hoped that his arrival would have been more of a fifty fifty in the usual protocol, but it never was. Neither were the things he said, or how he treated you when it came to this. “Perfectly fine.” You glanced at him, another hitched sigh making its escape, tired of being held back. “That’d be funnier if it was anyone but you,” he said while shifting his chair a little closer. The silence he gave you after was plaguing enough in the cold of the night that it forced you to say something. “It’s all the same, no matter what I do. If only I’d be strong enough to completely ignore it.” You shook your head before turning to look at him, expecting a certain answer from him. Knowing he wasn’t very happy per say about your recent approach to this. Yet, never angry. He took a fast breath but the words he’d prepared never came out. Hoping that the pleading look you’d given him had softened some of the words he’d originally thought of. “I know what it’s like, to lose control of what you have. But you of all people shouldn’t have to.” The rest of the words he’d held back escaped with an exhale at the end, left unspoken. But in truth, you wouldn’t have heard them anyway. The other questions so often filling your mind had appeared back the second he’d come after you. And as per usual, there was no holding them back as they escaped your lips. “Were you ever angry with me for the choice I made?” The exchange of yourself for a piece of information. And as often as you found yourself rewording these same questions, he took the time to answer them. Each time so swiftly that you had to believe he was telling you the truth, “Of course not, dear. More so at the creature itself.” But he couldn’t possibly leave it there. “The control you had was not complete. You don’t have to blame yourself.” 

Awful how he cared, making it harder to keep yourself together. “I’m not sure if I blame myself exactly. I’m not sure if it was worth it. I wonder if it ever made anyone, you, angry.” A shudder ran along your spine, shaking your head slightly to get rid of it before continuing. Not daring to look at the man next to you for longer. “But maybe he’ll get tired of the form eventually. In due time, I’d be mostly free. It’s just…he’s been..active today.” You rambled, eyes resting on the comfort of your lap. But even then, you could almost feel the pair of red eyes piercing through you in the dark. Filled with an emotion you didn’t dare to name, not to even look in fear that it would confirm the care for you he’d formed. 

He stayed quiet, the sound of his and your breathing keeping the silence at bay. Even the breath he drew sounded loud, but his words never seemed to be. As per protocol. “Come inside. I’ll be with you, however you want for me to,” he offered so kindly it almost caused you to cringe. Maybe there was still some getting used to you had to do before this would become more comfortable. But you knew he was trying to fix something within himself as well by doing this. He was trying to offer you something he was never given. So maybe taking a hold of his hand and accepting the offer wasn’t for your sake, but for his. 

His steps were as careful as yours has been, as he led the both of you to his bed. You sat down first, flush against the headboard, wishing it would have provided some sort of comfort from the touches. Astarion stood beside the bed for a moment, holding back on a question before it slipped from him, “what would you like to do, darling?” He asked, making you wonder what it was you wanted. To have the peace of mind you had before. Well, what had been left of it after the tadpole had nestled itself somewhere back there. The shiver that ran along your spine interrupted that train of thought. The only thing you could still achieve and wished to have was rest.  “To sleep,” you answered while observing the man sit down and lean against the headboard. He’d left space for you to come over if you so pleased, a silent invitation. 

You knew he probably wasn’t the most ideal person to comfort someone, but also could see that he felt a form of compassion when it came to this. And knowing that he saw a fragment of himself within you hurt deeper than any deal with an incubus ever could. 

You climbed up to him, leaning your back against his chest before kicking the blanket to a comfortable position. The space was so silent, but hearing Astarion breathe removed any thoughts of that. Keeping your attention on how his chest rose and fell in a familiar rhythm. 

His arms snaked their way carefully around your waist, careful as if there was a chance you’d tell him to back off. But you would never, not when he’d finally allowed someone to care for him and come close. He leaned forward just enough to be able to talk quietly. “It won’t last forever. But I’m sorry all the same.” He said, leaning his head back to rest. And there was an ounce of truth in his words, even if he had meant that this time wasn’t going to last forever. Most likely not even until the next morning. But that the deal wouldn’t last forever either. Astarion himself had assumed the same of his fate, but had gotten the chance to change that path in the end. And the thought of that gave you some form of peace of mind, at last. 

And at last the rest you’d been craving for came, slowly and late. But it didn’t matter anymore. The knowledge of not having to be alone and having someone to care for you was hard to accept but maybe you’d get used to it someday. 

[eco-lite]

My favorite moments from David Mack's Control. Most of them are Garak, even though he's barely in this book...

[Text ID: “’I'm well aware that you're all fugitives of the highest order in the Federation. Nothing new for you, Doctor, or for your inamorata"—he let contempt drip off that last word—"though I have to imagine being the target of an interstellar dragnet must be something of a new experience for your friends.’” End ID]

Okay this is hilarious. David Mack establishes that Sarina Douglas (the genetically-engineered woman Julian helps in "Statistical Probabilities." Remember her?) and Julian have been in a relationship for a while, but he's also clearly a garashir shipper who loves to make Garak suffer. Jealous!Garak my beloved.

[Text ID: “Garak shot a wary look at his bodyguards, then he moved closer to Bashir. ‘Are you asking as a Starfleet officer? As a doctor? Or as a man in need of asylum?’ ‘I'm asking as your friend.... Help us, Elim.’ It might have been nothing more than Bashir's imagination, but he thought he saw the faintest hint of jealousy in Garak's eyes when the castellan glanced at Sarina. But then Garak looked back at Bashir and smiled. ‘Very well, Julian. For an old friend... anything is possible.’” End ID]

Poor Garak. This is truly painful. Especially since Julian recognizes his jealousy and doesn't ever address it.

[Text ID: “’Executions without judicial oversight? It's an obscenity masquerading as national security.’  ‘Yes. And it's also how the Obsidian Order kept total control over the Cardassian Union for nearly a century.’ That put an end to Bashir's perambulation. ‘Wait, no. I didn't mean to say—' ‘That any part of the Federation could ever have anything in common with the Obsidian Order? Or with the Tal Shiar? Oh, how I envy your naïveté, Doctor. To believe that any nation state could ever endure without having an appendage willing to stain itself in blood—what a luxury it must be to live in the arms of such delusion.’ He expected a tirade from Bashir. A red-faced defense of the Federation's principles, its integrity, its virtue. Instead the doctor reined in his dudgeon and approached Garak's desk. He set his knuckles on the polished wood and bowed his head while he drew a calming breath. ‘I can't deny there's rot in the core of Starfleet. In the heart of the Federation. I've seen it.’ He looked up at Garak, and his eyes had the hard, unyielding focus of a man ready to go to war. ‘I came to you because I need to know how to stop it. How to end it. How to destroy it.’ ‘Well, that's simple, Doctor. What worked for Cardassia will work for the Federation. To excise this cancer from your body politic, all you need to do is kill the body, burn it down to ash, then resurrect and rebuild it with wiser eyes and a sadder heart.’ Bashir's brow creased with scorn. ‘You mock me.’ ‘Not at all, Doctor. You saw what happened to this world at the end of the Dominion War—to all the planets of the Cardassian Union. The Dominion burned us to the ground. Slew all but a fraction of our population. Left us with nothing but cinders and cenotaphs. That is what it took to free Cardassia from the grip of the Obsidian Order. Are you ready to pay that price so the people of the Federation can bask in the purity of their liberty? Is it worth the blood of billions? Is it worth seeing your worlds on fire?’ ‘You make it sound as if there's no middle ground,’ Bashir protested. ‘No choice besides surrender or slaughter.’ Garak saw no reason to blunt the truth's cutting edge. ‘Why else would such programs exist, Doctor? What is the value of intelligence if it doesn't lead to action?’ This time Bashir rose to Garak's challenge. ‘What is the value of action if it betrays all that we stand for?’ His shoulders slumped as if they bore a terrible weight. ‘Garak, I didn't come here to be lectured, or to be told I'm too idealistic. I came here for advice.’ ‘Of what sort?’ ‘The kind that will help me stop Thirty-one. Permanently.’ Maybe the doctor was foolhardy. Perhaps his mission was doomed to fail. But there was no denying the man possessed the courage of his convictions. Garak tried to remember what that had felt like in his long-ago squandered youth—and then he realized, to his shame, that he had never known the sweet sting of such passions. ‘If you want to kill Section Thirty-one,’ he said, ‘you'll need to turn their greatest strength against them—transform it into their most dire weakness. They thrive on secrecy, on anonymity, just as the Obsidian Order once did. Take that away from them. Expose them and they'll be vulnerable—and that's when you strike the killing blow.’ He set his palms on the desktop and leaned forward to emphasize his final piece of counsel. ‘But make sure you leave nothing of your enemy intact. When your work is done, don't try to turn their assets to your advantage. Destroy them all, every last one—or else the monster will simply rise again.’” End ID]

Although the concept and plot of this book is really interesting, I was generally not impressed by the characterization in this book. But Garak is an exception. I love this passage because it's a brief return to Garak and Julian's cherished philosophical debates. And it so perfectly encapsulates Garak's world-view after all he's been through. He's under no delusions of how far a society will go to "protect itself." Or how hard it can be to dismantle a broken system. He's experienced both tragedies first-hand.

[Text ID: “’The codicil concerning Doctor Bashir indicated a ninety-four percent likelihood that he would seek the aid of his former lover and Deep Space Nine crewmate, Captain Ezri Dax. Instead, he ran to Castellan Elim Garak.’" End ID]

Ha. That's telling, isn't it...

[Text ID: “’Have you considered the possibility that you've chosen the wrong side?’ The question felt to Bashir like a vote of no confidence. He hoped he had heard Garak wrong. ‘What do you mean, the wrong side?’ ‘I merely mean to ask, Julian, if you've ever stopped to entertain the notion that perhaps Section Thirty-one serves a valid purpose?’ The question itself offended Bashir. ‘Don't be absurd, Garak. Thirty-one wields deadly power with absolutely no legal accountability or oversight. It commits countless crimes against Federation citizens and foreign peoples. It steals, defrauds, counterfeits, murders. It acts in the name of the Federation while betraying every principle for which we stand. Its continued existence is an insult to our entire civilization.’ Garak struck an imperious pose. ‘Really? An insult? What if that insult to your Federation is the only reason it still exists?’ He prowled forward, crossing Bashir's imaginary boundary of personal space. ‘Every nation-state in history has relied, at one time or another, on the services of such organizations for their very survival. Why should yours be any different?’” End ID]

Devil's advocate as always. But Garak has a point. Cardassia was only able to maintain it's strictly military society--the status quo--because of the Obsidian Order. Based on his own experience, it's reasonable to think that Section Thirty-one may be the only thing holding the Federation together. No matter how much its actions go against the holier-than-thou principles the Federation claims to uphold.

[Text ID: “’Beliefs are dangerous things, Julian. Once we invest in them, it can be hard to challenge them without invoking cognitive dissonance. But in this case, I suggest you try. Because if I'm correct, going to war with Section Thirty-one can only end badly for you. Either you will lose, and you and all your friends will suffer gruesome fates I'd rather not imagine; or you will win—and in so doing, end up inflicting more harm than good upon your beloved Federation.’" End ID]

Not Garak trying to predict the ending of the book. Somehow the real ending was a mix of both. And that "beliefs are dangerous things" line... Yeah.

[Text ID: (Referring to the décor of the Federation Headquarters in Paris, which is scientifically constructed to be soothing and discourage potential violent behavior) “Like the Federation's pervasive imperialism, the lobby's social controls were subtle and hideously effective.” End ID]

Damn, you said it, not me. I do love this book's determination to deconstruct every charitable feeling the reader might have about the Federation.

[Text ID: “Alone with Bashir, Garak looked at his friend. He circled in front of him. ‘Are you still with me, my dear doctor?’ He squatted in front of the hoverchair and tried in vain to make eye contact with his friend. ‘Are you blind to the sight of me? Deaf to the music of my voice?’ Bashir's silence and his wounded stare into an empty distance disturbed Garak in ways he feared to confront. This was not the man he remembered from Deep Space 9, or the confidant with whom he had trusted his private musings in the aftermath of the Dominion War. This man was detached from the world, in it but separated from it by a barrier as unbreachable as it was intangible. This was the shattered husk of a good man, the sorry remains of one who had refused to bend to the cruelties of the world and ended up broken instead.” End ID]

I didn't realize this book leads directly into Una McCormack's Enigma Tales (excellent book, go read it!) until this point. That knowledge makes this moment hurt more, I think.

[Text ID: “There was naught left for Garak to do now but keep his friend safe, in a clean and well-lit place, and give him whatever time he needed to heal himself—or at least to die in peace, with his last measure of privacy intact and jealously guarded by someone who loved him.” End ID]

Time to curl up in a ball and stare into the middle distance for a while...

[esamastation]

Part thirty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one

-

The first few hours in the forward camp go by quickly, for Angeal. Mostly in putting down brushfires and smoothing down ruffled feathers.

"That was Sephiroth, right - Sephiroth is in our camp!"

"Where is he then? I want to meet him!"

"Think he would shake my hand?"

"Does anyone have a camera - I want to send a picture to my Ma!"

Most of the troopers are excited - and they have every reason to be. More SOLDIER means less dangerous work for them while the SOLDIER members take care of the more dangerous missions.

But you can't please everyone.

"Well?" the infantry Colonel in charge of the town demands when Angeal presents himself to the man. "Isn't he even going to come to introduce himself?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," Angeal says awkwardly, with the Turks' warnings still in his ear. No one is to know that Sephiroth isn't at hundred percent right now. And Angeal agreed. "It was a very busy time in Midgar just before we left, and the plane wasn't exactly comfortable - he's resting before we start tackling missions tomorrow."

"Couldn't he sleep on the plane? Isn't he supposed to be a veteran - doesn't he know you're supposed to catch all the sleep you can get, when you can get it?" The Colonel huffs, offended and superior. He's an older man, in his fifties, and though Angeal doesn't know him, he recognizes the type. 

A lot of older military types didn't really… believe that SOLDIERs were worth the hype.

"What if we were in an emergency situation here and the camp was under attack?" The Colonel asks. "Would he have sauntered off then, just willy-nilly?" 

"I'm sure in that case Sephiroth would've fought, but as that wasn't the case," Angeal says slowly, "I'm sorry sir, in favour of the missions ahead, he's getting all the rest he can, now."

It takes more than that to placate the camp commander, and Sephiroth would need to present himself first thing in the morning, but at least Angeal manages to keep people from trying to bother Sephiroth. Who… really didn't look too good, before.

Angeal had got him two folding screens and a table from the loot storage - he'd even found a nice tea set, and some tea in a tin  - and if he didn't know better, he would've said Sephiroth almost… cried.

He's never seen the man look so lost.

Which sends him here, to the mess hall set up by the infantry in one of the larger buildings of the town. It's impossible to miss, and he had to wonder how the pompous Colonel didn't claim the building for the command - it's easily the grandest in the village, with spacious interiors and the inner courtyard with a mossy garden.

All the plastic folding tables probably would have made Sephiroth sick, though.

Angeal approaches the field kitchen with his proverbial hat in hand, asking, "Hey, do you have any chocolate here?"

"We do - for a price," the cook says, apologetically. "Sorry, sir, it's protocol - the company provides you grub and meds, but all luxury goods are Gil only."

And the prices are, of course, through the roof.

"... And if it's for Sephiroth?" Angeal asks hopefully, because the poor kid in him can't stomach paying fifty Gil for a candy bar.

The cook hesitates and then narrows his eyes. "... Sephiroth eats chocolate?"

"It's his favourite," Angeal lies shamelessly.

There's a moment of painful hesitation between protocol and idol worship. "... Fine, but just this once, okay?" the cook mutters and quickly shoves two bars towards him. "I can get away marking these out as damaged in transit, but after that they'll start taking it out of my pay! And don't go spreading this around either, sir, or else everyone will be begging for charity!"

"I won't tell a soul," Angeal promises and adds two chocolate bars to his tray. "Thank you so much."

He fills the tray with enough food for him and Sephiroth and offers an apologetic smile to the group of SOLDIER Seconds before heading out.

He doesn't quite make it to his and Sephiroth's quarters.

"So, the big guy is not doing so hot, after all."

It's Reno, accosting him along the way, lounging back against a bit of painted wall. He's not quite hidden - except that coming from the direction he did, Angeal couldn't see him.

"Mood seems to go up and down; he's practically swinging from side to side, that man," Reno continues, watching the street idly. "You got it handled?"

Angeal stops and takes a steadying breath, staring down the street. It's getting late and dark, and the green-tinted electrical lights by the Shinra troops clash with the red paint of the buildings. "Sephiroth is meditating."

"Yeah, because that's totally something he does," the Turk snorts, folding his arms. "I've read his file, man. A homebody he is not. If this was your usual mission, he'd already be out there, fighting."

Angeal hesitates, looking down at the tray. "He's going to be fine," he says. "Now excuse me, the food will get cold -"

"Hey, man, I'm on your side here," the Turk says. "I'm just asking. We just want the best for him!"

Sure. "The Turks are very invested in this," Angeal comments pointedly and gives the redhead a look. They are - hell, they'd sent not just one, but two Turks to the front lines! That's more than investment.

The camp had been excited to see Sephiroth and Angeal there - they'd been less excited to find out that they came with Turk company. Turks don't generally take part in anything to do with Wutai, the war front isn't exactly their area of expertise, and that's how the military likes it. Though they're technically all part of the same department, there's no love lost there. The Turks very much aren't welcome.

That's probably why Reno is here - in the shadows, out of view. The Turks hadn't been seen much since their landing, really. And probably for a good reason.

"We're invested in damage control," Reno says, peering up at the sky lazily, leaning against the wall with all the grace of a cat. "Whatever's going on with Sephiroth isn't normal, and it's in the company's best interest that it doesn't come to head in Midgar."

"Right. Far better if he loses his cool here," Angeal mutters, watching as a curious firefly investigates a flood light. "Less collateral damage."

"That's it," Reno agrees lazily. "Personally, I'd prefer that whatever is going on with him is resolved quickly, so that we can all go home. But we will be here as long as it takes. As long as he needs."

Great, that's just wonderful. But… that also means that they're not in a hurry. Even the dozen or so missions pressing in on them aren't that high priority. They don't have the forces or the resources to make another try at Fort Tamblin, and most of the fighting out there has been fought into a standstill.

The war is essentially in a stalemate until further notice. The point of Sephiroth being here - before his incident, anyway - is more about morale than anything else. It always looks good when they send in the big guns, after all.

"As long as he needs," Angeal repeats. "Really?"

"The President approved it and everything," Reno agrees and looks at him. "Whatever Sephiroth needs."

Well. He knows that's probably bullshit, but in case it isn't… "Sephiroth needs time," Angeal says after a while, following the firefly with his eyes as it flies away. "And I think more than anything he needs privacy."

Reno narrows his eyes. Then his expression clears. "Alright, privacy we can arrange," he says flippantly. "Never much cared for military camps anyway. Right then. Good night, Hewley."

Angeal watches him go suspiciously, but it appears that was that. "Right," he mutters and hopes it wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass later.

Shaking his head, he returns to the house, to find that Sephiroth had finished rearranging the furniture to his liking - he's also made tea, and is holding a steaming cup in his hand as he stares into nothing.

His hands, Angeal notes with relief, are no longer shaking.

"Here, food," he calls. "Also found you something special."

Sephiroth blinks and looks up as Angeal puts the tray down, handing him both of the chocolate bars. "Oh," he says. He looks guilty. "Angeal, I…"

"Special gift from the commissary, free of charge - next one we will have to pay for, and they charge through the nose here," Angeal says cheerfully and sits across from him, divvying up the plates and utensils. "So you better enjoy it."

"... I will. Thank you," Sephiroth murmurs, closing his long fingers delicately over the treat.

"Good. Now come on, let's eat," Angeal says, pushing the plates closer to him. "We have a lot of work tomorrow. Better stock up."

"... Monster hunting, right?"

"Yes," Angeal agrees. "Just you and me and a bunch of wild beasts. It should be great."

Sephiroth looks at him for a long moment and then, finally, nods slowly. "Alright."

They eat, and the tightly wound coil of anxiety in Angeal's gut unwinds, if only a little.