#he will never truly fully recover from what happened to him and him pushing himself is only damaging his ability to heal

[realian]

[rafeandonlyrafe]

captive

words: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark!rafe but he has soft moments hes trying, drugged!reader, kidnapping, DUB/NONCON, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, biting, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, forced drug intake, snorting cocaine, smoking weed, poppers, mentions of pregnancy

“nooo.” you moan out, eyelids blinking heavily as you stare at the white powder along rafes finger. “im already-”

“no.” rafe says harshly, cutting off your protests. “i saw the way you were looking at the door. are you trying to leave me?”

“rafe-” you plead, but then his hand clamps harshly over your mouth, so tight no air could possibly get in. his finger presses against your nose, furious eyes watching yours as he waits for you to give up and inhale.

you feel dizzy, dizzy from the drugs already in your system and the lack of oxygen as you finally inhale, taking in the sweet air along with the drugs.

“that's it.” rafe pulls his hand away as you take in deep gulps of oxygen, scooping you up effortlessly as you recover and placing you down on the bed.

rafe keeps one eye on you as he prepares the room for nighttime, shutting the curtains and switching on lamps to bathe the room in soft light. he grabs your pajamas from the dresser, knowing he's just going to tear them off you later.

rafes foot falls are soft against the lush rug as he heads back over to the bed. “baby.” he says harshly when he sees your eyes are closed, tapping your cheek with increased hardness until your eyes open.

“im so tired.” you complain. “took too much.”

rafe just sighs. it's no more than he's given you on other days. the drugs keep you pliable, harmless, unable to escape. 

rafe can't let you leave him. he knows it's wrong, but he just needs to keep you fucked up enough until you forget that you want to leave in the first place. forget that your sweet boyfriend quickly turned evil when you told him you were leaving for college.

“stay awake, bunny.” rafe says. “it's what you get for trying to leave me.”

“the door is locked anyways.” you mumble. “even if i was looking at it i couldn't have left.”

you managed one time to twist the doorknob. to hear and feel the lock stop you. all your drugged up mind could manage was to turn back and lie in bed.

“do you want a little bedtime snack?” rafe asks, watching as you perk up, nodding enthusiastically.

rafe moves your body, manipulates it to the position he wants as you're laid sideways on the bed, head tipped back over the edge.

“dick first then ill get you a different snack.” rafe says, watching your eyes flutter in attempt to stay open as he tugs at his zipper, undoing his shorts and pushing them down along with his underwear in one quick movement.

“i can't.” you reach out and grip rafes thighs, head barely able to hold up as you look in his eyes with pleading in yours. “ill choke. im too-”

rafes hips plunge forward, pressing the length of his cock all down your face as your head falls, the next thrust sinking into your mouth as you resign to your task.

you focus on breathing through your nose as his cock repeatedly enters your mouth, somehow able to find enough compassion in himself to slowly build up his thrusts so he's not immediately down your throat.

“that's a good girl.” rafe coos, the praise making your head spin as you keep your hands gripped on his thighs.

rafes hands reach for your cheeks, pressing them together as he presses fully in now with every thrust, watching his cock bulge against your throat.

rafe lets out loud moans, unashamed of his vocality. it's not like you have enough mentality to judge him for it, especially not with the wet and choking sounds coming from you.

rafe does keep one eye on your chest. watching your heartbeat through the low cut shirt he put you in this morning. just in case. you mean far too much to rafe to let anything truly happen to you, even if it means him keeping you high as kite and locked away in his bedroom.

“close baby.” rafe tells you. he's never able to hold himself back for long when he gets you in a position like this. “so tight for me.”

rafe is fucking your mouth with as much furosity as he does your pussy, not worried about your teeth possibly scraping, knowing he's taught you well enough that they're covered with your tongue and lips. even though you've been his captive for almost a month now, that doesn't change the fact that you'd never want to hurt rafe.

rafe lets out a string of harsh curses and the feel of his cock swelling in your mouth is all you need to know he's about to cum.

you move one hand that's on his muscular thigh to his balls, fondling them the best you can. it's the final touch rafe needs as he shouts out your name, hips pressing forward as he cums deep down your throat, watching the way his cock twitches and pours out semen under the thin layer of your skin.

“shit!” rafe curses loudly, hand moving to squeeze your throat, giving the extra tightness he needs for one last pump of cum inside of you before he pulls out.

you quickly turn over, flipping onto your stomach as you cough and sputter, deep wheezing breaths filling your lungs fully.

“oh, my good girl.” rafe helps you to lay back properly on the bed, giving you soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as you recover.

his soft side is always a surprise, in so much contrast to how he normally treats you. he just wants you to stay good and pliable all the time, tired of when you act out or defy him.

“now time for that snack, yeah?” rafe says. 

he leaves the room, and you listen for that telltale sound of him locking the door behind him, but it doesn't come. you blink harshly, trying to force yourself to stand, to let your legs carry you out, but your stomach growls, knowing rafe will keep you well fed, and your pussy clenches, knowing rafe will fill it later, and you stay laid on the bed.

rafe enters moments later with a pleased look on his face. it may have been only minutes, and you may have been strung out, but he was just able to leave the door unlocked and came back to find you in the exact same position he left you in.

“crackers?” rafe offers you, helping you sit up and schooch back to lean against the headboard.

you take the bowl as rafe checks your water bottle is still full before standing up and locking the door, slipping the key into his pocket. he made sure to get double side locks, reinforced to keep you secured.

“im going to take a quick shower.” rafe says, leaving you to finish the snack on your own. you eat quickly, munching down the food to satisfy your drug addled mind.

you set the bowl down on your nightstand when you're done, eyes turning to the pajamas laid against the bench at the end of the bed, knowing rafe intends to dress you himself when he gets back. 

he's never able to control himself when he sees you naked. it's why every time after he's finished putting your clothes on that he has to rip them right back off. why every time he helps you bathe or shower that he ends up fucking you all wet. every time your shirt slips up your stomach or shorts ride too short and you're unable to fix it in your state, that rafe ends up getting you naked and worshiping your body.

“y/n.” rafe calls your attention up to him as your eyes refocus, having drifted off at some point. rafe is standing in just a towel, wrapped snuggly across his waist.

“do you need another hit?” he questions, not wanting you to fall asleep, he likes when you're awake while he takes you, so he can see the fire behind your eyes. “or a joint?”

“yeah.” you nod. “a joint.”

you hope rafe will smoke it with you. you like when rafe gets high. his feral movements slow down, his thrusts become softer and kisses tamer.

rafe heads over to the locked cabinet, putting in the code before opening it up and grabbing a few things out. you watch with half horror and half fascination as rafes long slender fingers roll the joint before lighting it, the lighter briefly brightening the room in orange haze.

“here ya go.” rafe sticks one end between your lips, allowing you to inhale deeply. rafe is pleased, already such a quick turn around from having to force you less than an hour ago to snort.

“you're getting so obedient.” rafe says softly, wishing he could get you to be obedient at all times and not just when you're fucked up. then maybe he can let you out of the room, slowly expand your privileges.

“mhm.” you hum, closing your eyes as you lean forward and inhale deeply again. you turn your head to the side to blow out the smoke, pushing it away from rafe.

you keep huffing and exhaling until the room smells like weed. you're not sure what the combination of drugs in your system does to you, but it has you looking at rafe with softer eyes, forgetting that he's the one forcing you to snort various powders and pop pulls, just thinking about him as the one who brings you snacks and cuddles you.

“pajamas?” you ask rafe once the joint it almost gone, watching him head to the bathroom to damp it out in some water and toss it.

“yeah.” rafe grabs your pajamas, a very immodest and revealing matching set of shorts and a tank top.

you stay slack against the bed, letting rafe pull off your t-shirt and undo your bra, his eyes staying on your tits as he tosses your clothes into the hamper. he doesn't touch them yet, despite his fingers twitching with need.

he moves onto your pants yet, tugging your yoga pants off and discarding them so you're in just your underwear.

“my favorite pair.” rafe says softly, though really any of your thongs are his favorite. his hands push your thighs open and you don't resist when his finger presses against your core and swipes up, putting pressure right on your clit.

you let out a moan as your back arches, but as quickly as rafe began touching you, he stops, and then pulls your shorts up your legs.

“thank you.” you reach your arms up, body calling out to rafe, craving him. rafe scoops you up into his lap, snuggling his nose into your neck.

“just relax.” rafe says, hands petting over your body until one inevitably slips between your thighs. he keeps his hands away from your core, teasing you with soft strokes.

rafes thumb and pointer finger suddenly pinch together with your flesh caught inside, but you barely even react to the sudden burst of pain. it's how rafe can tell you're truly ready for him.

“gonna lay you back.” rafe narrates as he places you on the bed, standing over you while you stare up at him, waiting for what the first strike is going to be. what area of your body he's going to pounce on first.

it starts with tearing your shorts down, bearing your pussy to him yet again. a pleased smile stretches across rafes features when he sees you're already wet from his teasing.

“wanna taste you.” rafe lays himself down on the bed, still only covered in the towel, hair slightly damp that you'd want to run your fingers through if your arms weren't noodles.

rafe doesn't often eat you out. in a way, it feels like a reward as he leans in, mouth covering your clit. his tongue pokes out, tapping at your clit as you let out soft moans and mewls.

“so yummy.” rafe praises you, mouth sinking to your entrance, slurping at the juices built up there.

his little fuck kitten, his baby, his captive and his girlfriend, even if you did attempt to break up with him. he's never let you truly lose the title.

rafe doesn't stay laid on his stomach for long. while his incessantly licking through your folds feels good, it doesn't suit him anymore once your taste has already coated his tongue.

rafes kisses lead up your stomach, mouth pressing against your skin as his head pushes up your shirt until it's barely covering your chest. his hands push the loose tank top the rest of the way off your body.

rafe presses kisses to each of your nipples, watching them bloom and perk up right before his eyes. his smile grows as he widens his teeth and sinks them around your nipple, biting down before giving a hearty tug that has you crying out the most you can, a strangled mix between a moan and a cry.

rafe repeats the same bite and pull on the other side, then back and forth, then back and forth again, until your high dulls it out and you don't even react.

once your eyebrow doesn't even twitch in pain, rafe moves on, his hands pushing your thighs apart again as he kneels between them on the bed, tugging at the white towel as it falls away to reveal his hard cock.

“you're being so docile for me today.” rafe says like it's supposed to be praise, even though a sick feeling twists in your gut. “how about i try out your other hole today?”

your eyes widen and you try to sit up slightly. “i-”

“yeah, i think i will try it.” rafe says with a grin, reaching over to the bedside table and scrounging through the drawer until he finds the little bottle he's looking for.

rafe considers strapping you down to help you keep your legs open, but he likes the idea of you being unrestricted by bonds and rather too blissed out to move.

“turn over for me.” rafe commands, helping you flip onto your stomach. rafe grips your ass in his hands, massaging your plump flesh and watching it jiggle before he tugs your hips upward into the air.

he manages to get you to balance somewhat as he spreads your cheeks apart, looking at your little puckered hole just waiting to squeeze around his cock.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers and unwinds them, pressing them towards your face as he waits for you to inhale. you don't try to resist this time, knowing the drugs will only relax your muscles more and make things more pleasurable, even if the smell is so strong it causes your entire body to jolt.

rafe grunts out some praise that you barely hear or take in as he screws the bottle closed and lines up his cock with your entrance.

he's able to push in easily, knowing the drugs will only keep you open and relaxed for a few minutes. 

rafe presses his hips right into your bum, lodging himself as deep as he can inside of you. “knew your ass would feel great.” he says, tapping your bum in spankings that you barely register.

rafe begins to move, his strokes deep and slow as he fucks you. his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you held up just how he wants you.

you let out a strangled noise as the muscle relaxers wear off, your previous untouched hole clenching tightly around rafes length.

rafe curses harshly as you tighten around him, almost squeezing so intensely that its not pleasurable, but he's determined to work you through it.

he slowly increases the rhythm of his hips fucking into you, building up until he's fucking you with the furosity that he does your pussy on a nightly basis.

“jesus.” rafe grunts out, listening to your tiny whimpers and moans that you can't help releasing. “do you like this baby?”

you try to open your mouth to answer, but all you do is allow drool to slide down your chin, no words actually coming out. you're not sure if you like it, or it the drugs are just dulling out the pain and leaving the pleasure.

“where do you want me to cum though bunny?” rafe asks, bending down to speak into your ear. “surely you want me to fuck your pussy, yeah? get you pregnant?”

there's no way a pregnancy would ever last with the amount of drugs consistently flooding your system, but rafe likes to think about it. another way to get you to stay, another reason to never leave him.

you manage to shake your head in some way that forms a nod. rafe quickly switches holes like it's nothing, pushing into your pussy and keeping the exact same pace in your cunt that he did your ass.

“too much?” rafe asks, hoping you say yes, his smile stretching when you give the vague halfish nod again. you're so beyond overwhelmed that you still haven't shut your mouth, a wet spot of drool forming on the bedsheets to add to the wet spot from your dripping pussy.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers again, holding it to your nose. you don't even realize that he's done it until the smell hits your nose and your body jolts.

rafe chuckles at your reaction, forcing two fingers into your asshole, pumping them in contrast to the timing of his hips pushing forward, causing even more stimulation to flood your senses.

“i bet if i just tap your clit you'd cum, huh?” rafe questions.

it's a juggle to overstimulate you from every angle, but rafe manages to reach down with his other hand, but instead of tapping it like he said, he pinches your bud, holding it tightly between your fingertips as you let out a squeal.

“knew it.” rafe chuckles as he feels you pussy pulsate around him, squeezing and fluttering as your orgasm suddenly hits, juices flooding and soaking rafe and the bedsheets below you as your pussy gushes.

rafe regrets pulling out of your other hole as it clenches down on his fingers, but he's satisfied with shoving deep inside of you and pumping you full of his cum.

rafe let's out a moan that sounds almost like your name, but the sudden force of your orgasm has caused your ears to stop working along with seemingly every other part of your body.

rafe pulls out and lets you slump onto your side. he gives you a quick check to make sure you're still breathing before heading back to the bathroom to clean himself off. 

he doesn't bother with you, knowing you'll sleep off your high and walk up after noon to clean yourself and restart the cycle all over again.

“can't wait to do that again tomorrow baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss your lips despite them still being slackened apart.

rafe pulls you into him as he lays under the covers, feeling your naked bodies touching, skin to skin.

“goodnight.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you try to stay awake. maybe you can get away when he goes to sleep, maybe, maybe, maybe, but your head spins and eyes droop closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[hanaonesflower]

“let me do this for you.”

“let me get that for you.”

“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.

"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"

"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."

you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.

you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.

"this is getting out of control, kento."

"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."

nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.

so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.

"kento! what happened?!"

"nothing to worry about my l-"

"enough! tell me, now."

your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.

"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."

"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."

"it's not that bad."

you glare.

"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."

"I bet it does."

you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.

there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.

"you haven't been yourself lately."

silence.

"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."

kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.

a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.

"that's really how you feel?"

"have I been absent to you, y/n?"

you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.

"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."

"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.

"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."

"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."

truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"

"is it working?"

he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.

"I think it's very kind of you."

he sighs.

"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."

"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."

“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.

“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.

“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.

“then can i say that i love you, too?”

“that, you can.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧

note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)

[weepingtalecowboy]

Considering what Batman did in Gotham war with Jason

A fanfic exploring how everyone (especially Jason) of his children starts genuinely fearing him

Because it is canon that there are more situations where he hit and beat Richard then there are off him hugging him in the comics

He did his hardest to push Tim away he literally tried to kill Jason and then he just mentally broke him because he thought that it was the only way to make him stop being a criminal

He was straight up unsupportive towards Damian and even though he knows that Damian has no idea what a normal life is and how he isn’t allowed to kill anybody because he genuinely has no idea how to navigate society but instead of therapy he just gets berated for something he doesn’t fully understand (and while I don’t excuse his behavior or actions if he was given help like even Richard himself was enough to somewhat help him out at how to actually do things without violence a therapist could probably do much more for him but Richard already shows that just basic support was good enough for a start)

Like considering how he maybe loves them but his own mental health is so bad that the constantly hurts everyone around him

He should not even be near them if he truly loves anyone of them (except if he got psychological treatment and even then he should for the love and happiness of his kids just stay as far away as physically possible)

Batman is a mess and not equipped to raise children let alone vigilantes

he himself isn’t copping well enough to help anyone he is emotionally unstable and has lots of issues but he at least has a nanny who will take care of him when he is neglecting himself but Alfred can’t do everything for everyone and Bruce himself can’t help his family and later Alfred dies anyway making Bruce's kids dependent on him

But Bruce has no idea how to do anything for them (it is not in his range of abilities to play an actual parental role that doesn’t just mean give the kid a home over their head and food)

And while I love his character a lot over the years he is losing his path of justice more and more there are more situations of genuine concern then ever before

It just makes him seem so much more human than ever before

Because no human can live a live of vigilantism without getting more mentally ill over their whole career

After all the military discharges soldiers who are unfit for duty because of mental or physical limitations and problems

It is for their own sake but Bruce wants to fight that fight for as long as he lives

And he is dragging in more and more innocent children into his war against crime

At some point it will be to much like how Jason was killed then brought back wrong

Or Richard snapping and beating him for what he did to his brother who will never be able to fully recover from something that traumatic

Tim already knows that without robin Batman will become a monster even without crossing the line of killing

And then did everything physically possible to stop him from his self destruction

But Batman is made to self destruct there is no way he won’t break at some point (seeing as he already is breaking apart and in Batman beyond he is totally and utterly alone till Terry joins in

A fanfic exploring what would have happened if he was hurt by Nightwing after what he did to Jason is an interesting opportunity to explore

But because at the end of the day everyone knows that Batman is needed they are forced to let him live but they also know that he will actually truly snap if they are not there for him

So everyone starts living at the mansion and in fear of angering him (because there is no Alfred anymore to stop him)

They do everything to keep Jason away from him but they can’t move away anymore because Bruce disapproves at it

And Richard forces himself to interact as much as possible with him so that he focuses on him instead of his younger siblings

But the most important thing is to make sure that he doesn’t find out about their fear of him because they all know that this will make him truly upset (and by now they will never try to even play with fire anymore)

But also he is forced to raise everyone by himself

Has to make sure that Jason feels comfortable enough not to feel adrenaline because that is another problem altogether (which is hard when he immediately starts crying when being in the same room as Bruce)

Has to shield everyone from Bruce because nobody feels safe anymore

And on top of that make food and do chores (as the only good enough cook in the family and Jason no longer being able to do so) and teach the others how to do their chores despite them all being disasters at it (because no Alfred anymore)

And to somehow make it even worse he has to somehow convince Bruce to take care of himself while also trying to not make him any more upset

Then after a few years into that dynamic Bruce and past Bruce swap bodies

And while the whole league of the past and the past Batman immediately think future Bruce is an imposter because he behaves differently from how Batman would they simply tie him up beat him up

Past Bruce is surprised that everyone is at home and speaking to him and just assumes that it’s a good week but quickly realizes that something is wrong like how his entire family is going out of his way except for Dick how he seems extremely nervous about everything he says

How everyone is doing their best to keep Jason away from him

Main While the whole family assume he is having a good week and under no circumstances should they ever try to upset him in any way which is hard when he is constantly seeking them out and asking about Jason

By the point he realized what happens

He proceeds to go and beat up his future self and get therapy because he absolutely hates how everyone is afraid of him

That is not how Batman should ever be seen Batman is a sign of hope for the city not a monster hell bend on hurting criminals

[vegaseatsass]

My Stand-In Episode 9

I have like 10min to ejaculate some emotions before I have to run again so lmfao /types hard and fast I adore that after twisted coercive action after twisted coercive action, Ming almost almost almost had his Kinn moment where he lets Joe go. He came SO close. But he couldn't stick the landing. He's going twisted coercion to the VERY END, BABY!!! And I do think in many ways that's a clue about whether he would have been able to let Joe go when he asked in the first life, before the baseball bat, if Joe hadn't gotten the call from Sol and given Ming a justification for spiralling into delululand. I really do think he was close to hearing Joe then too, and honoring his desperate requests to let go. But "close" means letting him walk across the street and then chasing him, not actually releasing his grip. Ming will always be so very Ming <3

Wut pissed me off throughout this ENTIRE episode but I am trying not to relapse to "the NARRATIVE doesn't UNDERSTAND what it's DOING" reactions to characters with his framing and actually just take what's on the screen in good faith. And what's on the screen is a man who never truly acknowledged his own role in getting Joe killed, doomed to make all the same choices and mistakes all over again. While carrying himself with so much unearned self-righteousness and avuncular "wisdom", augh I hate him but yeah. He thinks what he did wrong in Joe's first life is like not yell at him hard enough to keep him from driving off a cliff. Not push an abused, financially desperate man into further isolation with nary a moment of considering trying to support him or even just giving him companionship for the night while he recovered from being fuckin kidnapped. So yeah, it's not surprising he's consistently making the easy choices, the "it's not REALLY my problem" choices, that put Joe back in Ming's grasp again and again. Like okay thank you as a plot device Wut (yes I am a sick and twisted hypocrite lmao), but fuck you fuck you fuck you as a human being.

However! SOL THIS EPISODE! Oh my god this is why I needed to quickly post! The duality of this character! I made FUN of Ming for thinking that Soljoe as a branded pair was any kind of threat, but episode 9 Sol was like "no actually. Audience shipping is reality if we try hard enough to make it be so." The way the lines are so blurred for him between just desperately desperately wanting to be there for Joe and desperately desperately wanting Joe to see that Ming is the wrong choice and Sol is the right choice, and I have strong doubts about how fully conscious the latter is - he knows he still wants Joe, sure, but I think he sees his (nonexistent, sorry baby) romantic eligibility as an opportunity to get Joe away from Ming. If Joe had a partner who wasn't violent and dangerous, I truly believe Sol would back off while harboring his feelings more quietly. But if Joe is single or with Ming? Sol has to try with everything he's got and cannot see the ways that that compromises his support for Joe.

And yet! EVERY time he called out Wut for facilitating Mingjoe (SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK WUT) I was cheering for him. Helping Joe with (Joe-on-Joe) crimes??? Being his lookout??? The crowd ROARED! And there's something to be said for Joe in the middle of the grieving process for his body and life, and Sol being the one who comes by to accompany him the next morning. Again, it's that duality: he is coming because they have a music video to promote, he is coming because he's giddy about selling them as a branded pair and maybe making Joe see him as a romantic option. But being very frank, I think it matters that Joe had someone who knew what happened and knew he was in the middle of grieving be there at his side that morning. I don't think he struggled to wake up when Ing shook him because he was sleepy. I think he was carrying something a lot heavier than that, and you need community to help you carry that burden. And there's nobody trying to or thinking of offering that for Joe except Sol. For partly selfish reasons, again, that's the juice of the character, that that duality is always present for him, but for ME it still matters as a kind of material support.

Lastly, the little glimpse of Yim being bitter and fucked up about Joe's death, and how that went over Joe's head, because he doesn't expect his CHILDHOOD FRIEND to remember him and grieve him. Delicious little detail.

[madsworld15]

New Fic: You Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark (Brian/Justin) - Part 1

Synopsis: Brian is an Award-Winning Author in the process of writing his fourth novel. He's struggling to get the words out on the page while also struggling with the curveballs life has insisted on throwing his way. Justin is a reclusive artist who never fully recovered emotionally from a bashing at his senior prom a decade prior. He rarely goes out in public beyond presenting his art to the gallery owner and getting food/groceries. Both of these men need a spark to jumpstart their lives. Lindsay just might know the perfect accelerant.

Prologue: Brian

Brian sat at his computer. His open document's white, blank nature caused his vision to swim. He rubbed his temple, trying to prevent a headache. At 38, he’d been a published author for a decade. He’d published his first novel independently when he was almost 29. Then, a year later, he’d signed a three-book deal with his current publisher. They’d forced him to write the following two books (his 2nd and 3rd novels, respectfully) in 4 years from signing on the dotted line. His 3rd book was published on his 34th birthday. 

The only reason he’d been able to hold off the vultures about his 4th book in the series, the final as part of his book deal, was that he’d been diagnosed with cancer when he was 34. For the last three and a half years, he’d been fighting cancer and then recuperating. Part of his recovery process had been to purchase the nightclub where he’d spent most of his misspent youth. Babylon had gone under because Saperstein had misappropriated funds into his own pockets and had been more concerned with fucking the dancers than he was about turning a profit. The club quality had gone down by the time Brian stopped frequenting it when he was 34, just shy of his diagnosis. So, last year, when it went on the market, Brian was depressed about the cancer, so his financial advisor and best friend, Ted, told him to use some of his savings to buy a new toy. 

With a sigh, Brian flipped the monitor of his computer off and decided that he wouldn’t get anywhere with this new novel today. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon, but he’d already been staring at a blank screen for 3 hours to no avail. Writing his first book had been easy. The words had simply flowed out of him like they were a piece of his soul. Brian believed they were. He crossed the room and left his office. A quick walk down a short hallway brought him to his kitchen, where he hoped there would be something he could eat in his refrigerator.

Most of the people in his life had gawked at him when he’d sold his loft right after getting the news that he had testicular cancer. The diagnosis had been his wake-up call. He stopped going to the club. He pushed Mel and Linds to renegotiate their custody agreement so that he could spend more time with Gus. Naturally, all this change meant he had to change where he lived, too. There just wasn’t room in his life for a fuckpad anymore. That’s not to say Brian didn’t still have sexual encounters with strangers; he just didn’t do it as frequently as he used to. Part of that was due to the side effects of the cancer (his libido wasn’t what it used to be) and partly because he’d gotten bored with all the anonymous sex. 

What Brian wanted more than anything in the world, and what he couldn’t tell another soul was someone he could come home to. Brian wrote about love and romance in his book series – his protagonist having found the love of his life under a street lamp one hot summer day in the early 2000s when they were on the verge of truly growing up – but couldn’t make it happen in his own life.

After making himself a quick peanut butter and banana sandwich, something Gus had introduced him to and he was now obsessed with, Brian walked toward the back of his two-bedroom house to the ensuite bathroom off the main bedroom. The other small bedroom was Gus’ when he came to stay every other weekend and for a month during the summer. Technically, Brian could say his house had three bedrooms, but the third room had been converted into a study for his writing the moment he’d moved in. The woman who had sold him the house had told him it was the perfect room for guests, but had clapped excitedly when he told her his plans for the room. She’d been an ideal real estate agent if only Brian could remember her name.

He slowly got undressed and stared at his reflection in the mirror. If anyone were to ask Michael or Ted, they would say he’d never been better. According to them, Brian Kinney was at the top of his game. He was a successful author with three books under his belt and a fourth one on its way. Neither of them would say he was lonely or depressed. That’s because Brian hid those parts of himself from them. He’d had enough pity and sympathy to last a lifetime during the year and a half he’d been undergoing cancer treatments. 

Just as he was about to step into his shower, his phone rang, making a hideous vibrating noise on his bathroom sink countertop. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and recentered himself before answering whoever thought calling him right now would be a good idea. He didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, which was a huge mistake.

“Mr. Kinney.” It was Hunter, the young kid Michael and Ben had adopted. He was now 21 and managed the bar at Babylon. Brian secretly liked the kid, which is why he let him manage the bar instead of just working it. However, today, he didn’t have the patience for whatever Hunter’s nervous tone brought with him.

“Hunter, I’ve told you many times. Mr. Kinney was my father. It's just Brian.” Brian squeezed his temples between his fingers.

“Right. Brian, so we have a problem.” Hunter stalled, clearly not ready to incur the wrath that Brian is famous for on occasion. “I came by the club early because I wanted to be sure the alcohol shipment delivered this morning was stored properly before we open the doors. Anyway,” Hunter stalled out again.

“Just spit it out, kid.” Brian knew he was unreasonably exasperated, but Hunter wasn’t helping matters.

“Someone broke in and trashed the register. It’s not going to be in working order for tonight.” Brian could see Hunter’s nervous face and habit of biting his lip despite being miles from the young man.

“Did they steal anything? Did you check the office upstairs?” Brian was already throwing his jeans back on as he spoke. He could reach the club in about ten minutes once he walked out his front door.

“I don’t have a key to the office, but from where I’m standing, I think someone busted the window on the door and forced it open.” Hunter continued. 

“Fuck.” Brian swore under his breath. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Just take stock of what might be out of place or missing. I will call the cops on my way.”

“Okay, Brian.” Hunter agreed, and then, just before hanging up the call, he added, “I’m sorry.”

Brian knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault, but he didn’t try to rush out words of assurance before the call was disconnected. He’d have time to reassure Hunter once he could assess the situation at the club. As he pulled out of his drive, Brian used his hands-free to call the local police.

“Liberty Station 23, how may I direct your call?” The chipper yet well-rehearsed voice that answered almost sent Brian’s nerves off the cliff.

“Hello, my name is Brian Kinney. I own the nightclub Babylon over on Tremont. My employee arrived to do pre-shift set-up duties and informed me of a break-in. I am on my way there now to assess, but I wanted to see if we could get some officers out to make a formal report.” Brian turned onto Tremont just as the woman responded to his statement.

“Do you have security cameras on your property, sir?” She asked in response.

Brian had to take a giant, steadying breath and remind himself that this was a standard question. “Yes, ma’am. I can give the police access to the tapes upon their arrival.”

“Great. I have informed one of our uniformed officers of the complaint. Our closest patrol car is dealing with a minor accident a few blocks over and will be to your address within 20 minutes.” 

“Thank you,” Brian responded with a sigh of gratitude as he pulled into his reserved parking spot at the back of the club.

He pocketed his cell phone and climbed out of his Jeep. Brian did not have the energy or patience for this. It had been a long day, thanks to his doctor appointment with his oncologist and the tests he had run. Brian was confident his cancer hadn’t come back, but every time they went through the checkup paces, it was a bitch. 

He shuffled across the parking lot, entered the club through the back door, and was soon met with Hunter’s harried expression. Brian forced a smile and let out a cough, leading to a coughing fit. Fucking summer allergies.

Hunter raised an eyebrow at him in concern. Brian waved his hand to brush him off. 

“Anything missing here?” Brian glanced around.

“I noticed we were a few cases short on our shipment. High dollar stuff.” Hunter met Brian’s gaze solemnly.

Brian desperately wanted to punch something. He didn’t need this right now. Instead, he turned through the keys on his keychain until he landed on a small silver one. He then motioned for Hunter to follow him as he trudged up the stairs to the office. 

“Have you gone up here yet?” Brian threw over his shoulder.

“Nope. I was waiting for you.” Hunter shrugged. 

Brian shook his head, “I actually kind of miss the snark you used to have all the time. You were one hell of a bratty teen, but it was amusing to watch.”

They arrived at the office, and Brian sighed heavily at seeing his neatly organized employee and budget files strewn all over the floor. Before he could step into the room further, Hunter’s arms locked him in place against the broken door and its frame.

“We’ve got some time til the cops show up. I’ve always wanted to show you my appreciation.” Hunter waggled his eyebrows and looked Brian up and down before he pushed off the wall and laughed.

“Missed my obnoxious flirting, did you?” Hunter smirked as he started to help Brian pick up the mess of papers.

Brian rubbed his hand across his mouth, hiding his smile. Hunter was indeed a great person to have around in a crisis. The stress and anxiety that had been coursing through his veins minutes ago was gone entirely. Now, Brian could focus on checking the safe for the extra cash and important documents and ensuring they hadn’t been taken.

Once he got to the safe, it was clear it hadn’t been broken into. So, it looked as though the thief only made away with what they could find as the bar, which wasn’t much since the register had been empty, as they hadn’t opened yet. Brian wondered who would’ve broken in and messed with the documents in his office. Turning around to survey the whole room, Brian wondered if he had any enemies. Or worse, if someone had finally discovered his identity.

When he published his first novel, Brian purposely published it under a pseudonym to maintain anonymity, especially if the book didn’t do well. But when it sold well and Brian hired a publisher, he kept the name. His publisher tried to say he needed to use his real name instead of Peter James to be more than a one-time success, but Brian stood firm. He liked living a normal life and not having to deal with the general public.

Hell, even Debbie didn’t know he was a published author. She still believed he wrote ad copy for Vanguard. His secret was much too precious to him, and Debbie meant well, but more often than not, she ran her mouth where she shouldn’t. In the early days of his writing career, Brian had contemplated keeping it a secret from everyone but Michael and Lindsay, but he soon realized he needed financial advice from Ted. And he couldn’t keep a secret from Emmett even if he tried; the Southerner was too perceptive.

“Brian?” Hunter’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He was holding Hunter’s employment file in his hand. Brian smirked.

He looked up and saw a couple of uniformed officers standing before him.

“I heard them arrive, so I showed them around downstairs. They wanted to see the office and talk to you.” Hunter gave a small smile before he backed out and headed back down the stairs.

“Hello, officers.” Brian tossed Hunter’s file on top of the desk. “I appreciate you coming over to assess the damages and theft.”

He gave them his most charming smile. It lasted only briefly before he started coughing again.

“Of course, Mr. Kinney. Dispatch said you own this establishment.” The older of the two cops scoffed as he looked around. “Are you sure anything was taken? Maybe just a jilted lover trying to get back at you.”

Brian licked his lips, drawing them in. He wasn’t going to lose his cool on this clearly homophobic cop.

“I’m happily single. I have been for years. And, yes, some alcohol was stolen from behind the bar. And so was our emergency stash of cash hidden at the back of the shelf under the bar.” Brian gave him a winning smile. “Not to mention the hundreds if not thousands of dollars in damages done here.”

“Lt. Bowers didn’t mean anything by it, sir.” The younger cop, a blond about Brian’s age, jumps in, hearing the bite in Brian’s voice.

“No, he did. But that’s okay. He doesn’t realize our money is just as good as his.” Brian stepped up to the older cop, “Bowers, is it? Maybe just take the report and let someone else investigate it.”

“I can take down your complaint, sir.” The blond stepped up again as Lt. Bowers glared at Brian, spit on the floor between their feet, and left to go back down.

Brian shook his head, rubbed his temple, and addressed the remaining officer. “What’s your name?”

“Officer Corbin. I, um, actually come here a lot on my nights off.” The young man looked at the floor all of a sudden.

Brian nodded and smiled. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to work with that.” He motioned downstairs before crossing over to sit behind his desk.

“Do you know why someone would target this establishment?” Corbin pulled out his notebook.

“You mean besides the obvious?” Brian raised his eyebrow. “No. I was just starting to look through employee files when you arrived. Maybe someone I recently fired.” 

Corbin nodded along, taking notes. “How much was in your emergency cash stash?”

Brian closed his eyes, a headache was starting to form behind his eyes. “Uhm. I would say around $150. We don’t keep a lot there. Just enough to stock the register during a rush.”

“You also mentioned some alcohol was stolen?”

“My bar manager, Hunter, came in early today to put away our shipment. He stated that a couple of cases of high-shelf liquor were missing. I haven’t had a chance to check with our supplier yet, but my money's on the thief. I’ve never had an issue with my supplier.”

Corbin nodded again, looking over his notes. “Alright, Mr. Kinney. We have enough to start the investigation. If you find out more on your end, let us know.” 

The blond pulled a card from his notebook and handed it to Brian. Corbin winked at him before whispering, “I also wrote down my cell in case you need or want to call.”

Brian appreciated the man’s balls. He full-on propositioned the owner of an establishment he was investigating. It was something Brian would’ve done five years ago.

After the officers had left, Brian wanted to go himself but knew his office needed to be put right. As he gathered the scattered files, he noticed Hunter standing in the doorway.

“Do you think it could be someone we’ve kicked out or fired?” Hunter had his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, reminding Brian how small he used to make himself while working the streets.

Brian dropped the papers in his hand and crossed the room. Without a word, he wrapped Hunter in an embrace.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ll make sure they catch who did this.” 

Hunter returned the embrace briefly before he moved back, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, you need help up here?” 

Brian shook his head. “No, I’m just going to be reorganizing these and trying to find something to point the officers in the right direction.”

“What are we going to do about the register for tonight? Or are we staying closed?” Hunter fiddled with the broken wood hanging loose on the frame. 

“Shit.” Brian brought his hand to his forehead again. He bit his lip, thinking hard. “We are going to be open. I’ll think of something.” 

With that, Hunter went back to the bar to continue the cleanup process. Brian watched him walk away until he was low enough on the stairs and fell out of sight. Brian’s headache was persisting to the point he could barely focus.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the person he could rely on for a quick solution.

“Em, hey. I need a huge favor.” Brian responded the minute his friend picked up.

“I will not have sex with you, Brian. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Emmett deadpanned, not missing a beat.

“Haha.” Brian snarked. “Do you know where I can get a cash register replacement in the next few hours?”

“Did you consider asking Michael? You know, the other budding entrepreneur in our group? Maybe he can loan you the one from his shop.” Emmett smiled brightly, and Brian could feel its warmth through the phone. 

“Em, how do I survive without you?” Brian heaved a sigh of relief. He knew without asking, his oldest friend would come to his aid in a pinch.

“You don’t.” The queen laughed. “Look, I gotta go. Leavenworth’s Bridal Shower waits for no one.”

Brian wasn’t able to thank the man before he was gone again. 

With one last look at the stack of files, he needed to move from his desk to the cabinet where they belonged. Brian decided to abandon the task and instead find a replacement register. He walked down to see how Hunter was fairing with his portion of the mess. 

“Hey, do you think your dad could let us borrow his cash register?” Brian leaned on the countertop and watched the lad straighten the shelves.

“They smashed quite a few of the open bottles. I swear our shoes are gonna stick to the floor for months.” Hunter muttered, clearly not hearing Brian’s question but registering his presence.

“Shoes have been sticking to the floor of Babylon for years, and not because of the liquor,” Brian smirked. Hunter met his gaze and shuddered.

“Gross.”

“Oh, come on. You used to do much worse on the streets.” Brian quirked an eyebrow, “Besides, I was kidding. Now, about your dad.”

“Which one?” Hunter returned to wiping down bottles with a towel before placing them back on the shelf.

“Keep up.” Brian snapped his fingers. “Michael. The one who’d have a cash register we could borrow.”

Hunter shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you just ask him?”

Brian kicked his lips. “Because he has the ability to say no to me, but with you, he doesn’t.”

Hunter shook his head with a smile. “You’re bad. Fine. I’ll ask him and then go and get it from him.”

“Good boy!” Brian gripped the back of Hunter’s head briefly.

——

It was after midnight, and Brian was finally back home. He was certain that if he tried to shower now, he’d fall asleep standing up, so he set his alarm for a little bit earlier and threw his clothes toward the hamper. He climbed into bed and was asleep within minutes.

The following day, his alarm blared much too early. Brian groaned but knew he couldn’t hit snooze because he was meeting the group for breakfast at the diner. And, of course, that meant he had to dress in a suit and tie. He wasn’t looking forward to it. 

He got out of bed, coughing as he walked into the bathroom for a shower. The steam cleared his chest more than he’d experienced in days. These summer allergies were killing him this year. He washed his hair and body quickly before getting out. Usually, Brian loved to take his time showering, but today, he didn’t have time.

He walked over to his closet and tried to decide which button-down and tie to wear when his phone rang. A glance at the clock told him it was 7:45 am. Who the fuck would be calling him this early?

He picked up his cell and answered it. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and left ear, threw on a navy blue shirt, and fiddled with the cuff as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Brian? Oh, thank god I was able to reach you. We are kind of in a bind. Mel’s mom is in the hospital, and we need to be with her. I’d bring Gus, but hospitals are terribly boring, and it’s summer. Can you take him for your month a few weeks early?” Lindsay’s tone was highly anxious, and Brian knew the blonde was downing all the coffee and donuts possible.

He smiled, tucking in his lips. More time with his son was always welcomed. But he also liked to make Lindsay squirm a bit.

“I don’t know, Wendy. I’m pretty booked. I just don't have the time between writing, doctor's appointments, and public appearances.” Brian switched the phone to his other shoulder and worked on pulling his shirt on the other side.

“Oh, Brian!” She exclaimed. “You almost had me. But then you had to say public appearances. You hate the general public.”

“Guilty as charged. I’ll be at Liberty Diner for breakfast with the guys for the next hour. Bring him there. I’ll get him some pancakes.” Brian chuckled.

“You’re a lifesaver. Truly.” Lindsay exclaimed with a breath of relief. “See you soon, Peter.”

Brian hung up his phone and finished putting on his pants, socks, and shoes. He grabbed a light blue tie and walked to his kitchen to get his keys. He had a coughing fit just before leaving and considered bailing on Thursday's breakfast with the gang. Then his lungs calmed down, and he knew that if he didn’t show up, everyone would end up here, which was worse.

“You look like shit!” Brian was greeted by Michael’s harsh tone the minute he sat down.

“You would too if you’d been up half the night because of a break-in and then had to get up early the next day.” Brian groused and motioned for Debbie to bring him some coffee.

The redheaded woman came shuffling over. “You okay, honey? Your health still good?” She placed a gentle hand on his face and poured him a cup.

“I’m fine, ma. Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. Someone broke into Babylon yesterday morning. So, that was a nightmare I had to deal with all afternoon and evening.” Brian sighed but gave Debbie a reassuring smile.

Debbie placed a hand on her chest in concern. “Was anything stolen? Anyone hurt?”

“No. The place was empty. They got away with a couple hundred in cash and some high-shelf liquor. Hunter was able to help me clean things up.” Brian looked up at his mom and reassured her once more.

“Speaking of which. Where’s my cash register?” Michael stared at Brian from across the booth.

“Relax.” Brian sighed again. “I instructed Hunter to return it to your shop and set it back up for you.” 

Michael looked as though he was about to argue when a blur of brunette hair and knobby limbs attached itself to Brian’s chest and lap.

“Daddy!” Gus cried with a wide, half-toothless grin. “Momma said you’d get me pancakes!” 

Brian turned slightly to see a majorly put-out Lindsay. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and forced a smile as she dropped it by Brian’s feet.

“You do know he has clothes at my place, right?” Brian glanced at the bag.

“You don’t have my Superman shirts, Daddy!” Gus petulantly exclaimed, moving to the bench next to Brian. “‘Sides, I’m with you ALL summer.”

“Try a month and a half. That’s hardly all summer.” Brian laughed and made a face at Gus to get him to laugh, too. 

Just then, his lungs revolted again, and Brian found himself in a coughing fit. He got himself under control and gulped down a glass of water, but everyone else stared at him.

“Jesus, it’s just a cough. Chill.” Brian glared at each of his family members separately, except Gus.

“I had a cough and runny nose last week. Momma said it was poolen.” Gus shrugged, drinking the juice Debbie had left and brought back for him.

“Pollen, Sonny boy.” Brian rubbed Gus’ hair and turned to everyone else. “A trait he gets from me. Now stop clutching your pearls and move on.”

A small voice at the back of Brian’s mind started raising alarm bells about the cough, but he shoved it down. He didn’t have time to investigate that train of thought, nor did he want to. His testicular cancer had been hard enough, considering it had spread to his abdomen and his lymph nodes on the kidneys. His doctor has warned he could relapse with cancer in another part of his body. He didn’t have time to think of this.

“Brian,” Lindsay’s voice cut into his inner thoughts, bringing him back to the surface. He turned his head to look at her directly.

“Gus has a playdate with his best friend, Walter…” Lindsay began before Brian cut her off.

“Walter?! What is he friends with a 78-year-old man?” Brian scoffed.

“He’s eight.” Lindsay rolled her eyes, her patience for Brian’s usual banter nowhere to be found, “Anyway, he has this playdate on Saturday. You can just drop him off around 11. Gus will stay for lunch, and usually, when Mel and I pick him up, we stay for dinner with Walter’s family since we’re friends with his mom, but you don’t have to.”

“Thank you for the permission,” Brian grumbled.

“Don’t be a dick.” Debbie chimed in; Brian had forgotten she was still hanging around.

“Walter’s the best! He has the latest Mario!” Gus looked up from his plate of pancakes, pausing his fork halfway to his mouth.

“The latest Mario?!” Brian’s eyes got big in excitement. “Why didn’t you say so? Of course, I’ll take you over to see him.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Lindsay leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Gus, baby. Momma and Mama Mel have to go away for a few days. We will call you tonight. Be good for Daddy.” She then leaned behind Brian to catch Gus on the top of his head.

“Bye, Momma,” Gus stated without looking at her, more interested in his plate of pancakes.

Once Lindsay was gone, Debbie finally got around to taking Brian’s breakfast order. Then she, too, walked off to get back to work. Brian watched her walk away. Debbie had always loved him from the moment she met him. But that also meant she was his toughest critic. Brian hated that he kept his true career from her. She deserved to know the truth, but Brian also deserved to be able to live a life without harassment from people who were fans or otherwise.

“So, do you have any idea who could’ve broken into Babylon?” Ted broke the silence, sipping from his coffee.

Brian shook his head, “No, the one officer thought I deserved it. But, the younger one thinks they’ll be able to solve it easy enough. He was the one who sent over some forensic people to fingerprint the bar and my office. If it had been up to his partner, nothing would’ve been reported.”

Michael looked up from his eggs, confused. “Why?”

“Because, Mikey, it's a gay club.” Brian gave his best friend a pointed look until the dark-haired man’s demeanor changed.

“Ohhhh.”

“By Jove, I think he’s got it!” Brian mocked.

“Shut up, Brian.” Michael groused just as Debbie returned with Brian’s egg whites and wheat toast.

“I swear, you need to eat more. You’re nothing but skin and bones.” Debbie commented as she placed his plate down. He saw that she had added a glazed donut to his order. Brian smiled at his plate.

“It’s not my fault my body doesn’t gain any fat.” Brian shrugged.

The door jingled, and Brian turned to see who was coming in. It was a stranger, but the most beautiful stranger Brian had ever seen. The young man had to be almost 30 with hair as golden as sunlight. He didn’t look around or even make eye contact with anyone. However, Debbie must recognize him because she walks over to him and greets him with a nickname. Brian doesn’t pick up on their exchange because they’re too far away. Satisfied that he’d stared at the young man long enough, Brian turned his attention to his food.

——

A few hours later, Brian was back at his house typing away at his manuscript with Gus on the floor, playing with his trains. Just then, his train of thought was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone. Brian sighed. He had a specific tone for his editor, and this was it.

“Roger!” Brian answered the phone, making a face at Gus, who giggled.

“Brian, I’m waiting for your first draft. Can I expect it by the end of this week?” Roger was pretending to be cheerful and nice, which meant Brian was in deep shit with him if he didn’t have some kind of response.

“I can’t send you a whole draft, but I should have at least 3 chapters for you by then. I’m almost done with the first two as we speak.” Brian continued to type and talk at the same time.

“Brian,” Roger gave an exasperated sigh. “You know we gave you some leeway a few years ago because of your cancer diagnosis, but you’re obligated under your contract.”

“I know!” Brian stopped typing and practically hissed through the phone, “I went to see my oncologist yesterday for a follow-up, and I’m a bit rundown at the moment because of a cold. I will get you the first three chapters by tomorrow.”

Gus looked up, concerned at Brian’s tone, but Brian smiled at the young kid and silently reassured him.

“Fine. But we expect you to have the rest of the draft by the end of the summer. No more extensions, or you will be in breech of contract.” And with that, Roger hung up.

Brian threw his phone down and dropped his head into his hands. His whole body was exhausted, and the headache from last night had never gone away. If he didn’t have Gus with him he would’ve already crawled back into bed. Before he could start his writing once more, his phone went off again. This time it was the regular ringtone which meant it was from a nonsaved number or a contact he hadn’t given a special tone to.

“Hello?” Brian answered his cell, not recognizing the number.

“Mr. Kinney? This is Officer Corbin from last night.” The voice on the other end replied.

“Oh! Officer Corbin.” Brian relaxed considerably. “What’s the word?”

“Well, we had time to review your security tapes, and we found some suspicious people lurking about outside early yesterday, and one went out of frame, so we believe he’s the one who broke in. Because when we look at the time stamp on the videos from inside the bar, a person shows up in frame not 30 seconds after one disappeared from outside.”

Brian rubbed his temple, “That’s great. Are you able to make an ID off the video?”

“Unfortunately, the person is wearing a hood. But, we are still analyzing the fingerprints we lifted from the scene. Those might turn up something. In the meantime, I suggest you go about business as usual and let me know if you think of anyone who might have done this.” Corbin’s voice was gentle and kind. Brian’s dick twitched, hopefully. Fuck. I need to get laid.

After hanging up with Officer Corbin. Brian got up from his desk and went to the kitchen. Gus followed him, asking for some juice. Brian shook his head and smiled to himself. He was so grateful that after years of disinterest, Brian was able to convince Lindsay and Melanie that he deserved some time with his son. 

“How about we go to the skate park later so you can work on your skateboard tricks?” Brian asked Gus as he handed the kid a glass of watered-down apple juice.

“Really?!” Gus’s eyes lit up, and he started to bounce around the kitchen. “Mommas don’t let me skateboard; they say it’s too dangerous.” 

“That’s why you only do it with me.” Brian tapped his nose to signify the whole thing was their little secret.

“You sure you aren’t too tired?” Gus stopped abruptly and looked up at Brian with concern. “You have what Momma Mel calls raccoon eyes.”

Brian knelt down to Gus’ level. He placed a hand on the kid’s cheek in gentle reassurance. “I’m a bit tired, but not too tired to watch you skate. Never too tired for that.”

Gus nodded, but his eyes told Brian he was still concerned. They were settled back in Brian’s study when his cell rang for a third time.

Gus looked up, “You’re super busy today, Daddy!”

Brian chuckled and gently shook his head, “I really am. Must be famous or something.” He stuck his tongue against his cheek and gave Gus a wink.

This ringtone was the one assigned to his doctor. Brian took a deep breath, tucked his lips behind his teeth, and steeled himself for an unpleasant conversation. He glanced over at Gus once more and decided he needed to take this call in his bedroom instead. If it wasn’t good news he didn’t want Gus to worry.

“Hey, Doc.” Brian tentatively greeted him once he finally answered. “Sorry for the delay. I have my son with me, so I wanted to keep him occupied before we talked.”

“I’m glad you did that.” Dr. Sanjay sighed, “Brian, I was concerned when you told me you’d been more tired lately, and then I heard your cough yesterday. So, I rushed the results of your bloodwork.” He paused.

“It’s not good is it.” Brian’s stomach dropped. His fears were realized as he thought over his bone-deep exhaustion and persistent cough the past week or so.

“I would much rather we have this conversation in person. Can you come by my office this afternoon?”

“I just promised my son I would take him to the skatepark.” Brian knew his excuse was pathetic the minute it left his lips. “Can’t we wait until tomorrow morning?”

“I would much rather you come in today. With your age and your history, it’s best we handle this sooner rather than later.” Dr. Sanjay all but confirmed Brian had relapsed.

“But, I’ve been in remission for over a year.” Brian could hear his own voice break. He wasn’t an outwardly emotional person, but it was all too much. He had just started to lead a life he was proud of. Brian was spending most of his time with his son, appreciating his friends like he should. He’d even stopped smoking and doing drugs upon his previous cancer diagnosis.

“Brian.” Dr. Sanjay was a patient and kind man, but even he had his limits. “Please come into my office at 3 pm today.”

“I’ll try to find someone to watch my son. He doesn’t need to hear any of this.” Brian replied before he hung up. 

Holding his cell in his hand, Brian felt the sting of tears. He didn’t deserve any of this. Or maybe he did. After all, most of his younger years were spent being closed off and a borderline asshole to everyone around him, including his closest friends. After a lifetime of verbal, physical, and emotional abuse from his parents, Brian decided he didn’t need love. Love was something idiots convinced themselves they needed, but he knew the truth. You could only rely on yourself.

Then, he’d been diagnosed with embryonal carcinoma, one of the most aggressive kinds of testicular cancer. Go figure. Knowing that his cancer wasn’t so easily cured, Brian realized he needed to make some changes. He stopped drinking, doing drugs, and going to the club almost every night. He spent more time with his son and told himself that he was ready to find someone to have a serious relationship with. The only problem was Brian forgot to worry about the supreme likelihood that his cancer would relapse within five years.

Brian dropped his phone to the mattress beside him and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not with Gus in the other room. He had to remain strong. His son didn’t need to know he was sick again. At least not before he got the details from Dr. Sanjay. No, Brian needed to take a deep breath and regroup. Gus was going to be disappointed that plans had changed, but Brian knew his doctor meant business. With another deep sigh, Brian got off his bed and went back to his study.

He stood quietly in the doorway and watched as Gus drew pictures in a sketchpad. The kid was only 8, but already he was showing signs of true talent. Most kids his age liked to scribble or make nondescript images and claim they were things such as a parent or a pet. But Gus drew things that actually looked like the stuff he would then describe. He must’ve sensed Brian was back because he looked up, smiled, and then held up his drawing.

“I drew us at the skatepark, Daddy!” Gus exclaimed. Brian held back tears as he looked at two somewhat humanoid figures on skateboards.

“But I don’t know how to do that. I barely function with my feet on the ground.” Brian stepped into the space and ruffled Gus’ hair. He leaned over and placed a kiss where his hand had been. “I really like it though.”

“Later, when we go skating, I want to show you this kickflip Walter’s older brother showed me.” Gus turned back to his art.

Brian cleared his throat. “About that. I know I said I would take you to the park today, but something came up. I can’t today, but I promise we will go tomorrow.”

Gus didn’t even miss a beat, “Don’t promise something you can’t keep.” 

And boy, did that one hit Brian deep in his chest. Gus was old enough to remember the times Brian had promised to visit or come to some achievement of his and hadn’t bothered to show up. He had been making strides these last three years, but it didn’t make up for five years of disappointments. 

“I can keep this one. I don’t have anything on my calendar tomorrow so we can go first thing in the morning even.” Brian bit his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving his son.

“Whatever.” Gus was disappointed but he’d never outright say it. “So, who will I stay with when you go do your thing?”

“I was thinking Emmett. This thing I have to do. I don’t want others to know about it, and Auntie Em is the least likely to give me any grief about it.” Brian had a no-bullshit policy when it came to how he talked to Gus. The kid appreciated it and Brian found it went a long way toward building Gus’ trust in him.

“Facts.” Gus nodded, then, with a mischievous grin, looked up at Brian. “Plus, Em always gives me all the cookies I want.”

“No more than four,” Brian responded in his firmest dad voice.

Brian shook his head as Gus went back to happily drawing. He pulled up Emmett’s number and dialed.

“Wow, two times in one day, Mr. Kinney must be bored.” Emmett greeted him. “Or needs to get laid desperately, so he needs a babysitter.”

“Emmett,” Brian warned. 

“Okay. Fine. What can I do for you, Brian?” 

“One, I’m never bored. Two, I get laid more than you think. And three, it’s not babysitting when the kid is 8.” Brian leaned back in his chair. “But you weren’t wrong. I do need a sitter for about an hour around 3.”

“Don’t you think Gus would have much more fun playing around Michael’s comic book store than watching me prepare appetizers for a black-tie affair?” Emmett’s voice sounded a bit distant, which told Brian the man had put him on speaker.

Brian rubbed his temples again. “He probably would, but Mikey,” Brian emphasized the name in an exasperated grit, “Would ask a million questions.”

Emmett’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Bri? What exactly will you be doing during this hour?”

Brian closed his eyes and sighed, “Dr. Sanjay wants to go over my test results from yesterday.”

Emmett gave a small gasp but then quickly recovered. “And you don’t need Gus knowing something is up.”

“Exactly.” Brian readily agreed. He was so glad he called Emmett. “I knew you’d understand and drop it.”

“Of course, no questions asked. Unless you want to share.”

“Not at this moment. But we will see what he says, and I’ll go from there.” Brian let out a shaky breath but masked it with a small cough.

“I’ll see you soon,” Emmett whispered, his emotions flooding through his voice. Brian knew his friend was going to wrap him in a hug the minute he dropped off Gus, but found in that moment he didn’t mind. “Tell Gus that we’ll be making Brownie Bites and Cake Pops. I’ll even let him taste test.”

Brian smiled, “Thank you, Emmett.”

“Anytime, Kinney.”

“Whatever, Honeycutt.” 

The two hung up. Brian felt considerably lighter than he had hanging up with Dr. Sanjay. Even if he got the worst news a few hours from now, Emmett would be there to make sure it was business as usual for Gus. Brian wasn’t alone in this fight. The thought of having a family worry about him used to freak him out and send him running for the hills, but now, he embraced it.

“Sonny boy.” Brian broke the silence to get Gus’ attention. “We are going to head over to Emmett’s in about an hour. You can go watch cartoons if you want. I need to call your Momma.”

Gus jumped up and ran to the front room. Brian watched his son leave, unaware that after today things would never be the same for him again. He didn’t remember Brian’s illness last time because Lindsay and Mel had decided he was too young to know. So, they hadn’t told him. He just knew that his Daddy was sick a couple of times when his Momma brought him over for a visit.

Brian worried his lip; he didn’t want to give Lindsay the heads-up. When it came to emotional reactions, hers was always the worst out of everyone in the family. He knew she would want to rush back home to be with him and that she’d want him to immediately tell everyone else. But he also couldn’t keep this from her because if Brian had to start treatments right away, someone would need to be there for Gus, despite their custody agreement.

“Bri, is everything okay? It’s only been a few hours. Is Gus okay?” Lindsay’s voice was immediately on high alert.

“Gus is fine.” Brian sighed. “I just wanted to call and give you a heads up. My doctor called a little bit ago and asked me to come in for further discussion. I’m certain I’ve relapsed.”

“You don’t know that. He could just want to go over all the results and give you pointers on how to stay healthy.” Lindsay tried to be devil’s advocate, but even she knew her words didn’t sound confident in the slightest.

“What about Gus? Is he aware?”

“No, I left him in the other room before I answered my doctor’s call. And I’m taking him over to Emmett’s. He knows I have to do something, but he thinks it's for work.” Brian rubbed his free hand through his hair.

“Well, please let me know what you find out. We are here for you. Please don’t forget that.” Lindsay’s voice was back to being the strong, confident, empathetic friend that Brian knew and loved.

“I will. I might need to adjust our Gus agreement. Depending on what he says.” Brian bit his lip. The tears stung the back of his eyes again. 

“We will cross that bridge when we need to. In the meantime, take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m not so sure this time, Wendy.” Brian’s voice came out broken and wet.

“You just have to believe, Peter.” Lindsay’s warmth caught him in his chest, and he smiled despite himself.

——

Brian sat nervously across from Dr. Sanjay. The man had a file folder open with Brian’s test results inside. There was an awkward silence building between them. He knew the man was just trying to collect all the facts and determine how he would tell Brian, but that didn’t make the wait any easier.

“How are you feeling today? Any better?” Dr. Sanjay finally looked up, addressing Brian directly.

“No worse, no better.” Brian’s leg started to bounce nervously. “Can we just cut the bullshit?”

“Sorry, I figured I would ease you into it. I forgot you’re more of a rip the bandaid off kind of guy.”

“I’d rather you give it to me straight than worry about feelings.”

“Your blood work came back with an elevated white blood cell count. I would like for you to get a Chest CT done before you leave here today. That will just confirm what I already suspect.” Dr. Sanjay gave Brian a grim look before continuing. “I told you last time that your form of testicular cancer had a chance of spreading and taking root in other parts of your body. I know it’s been over a year since we cleared you, but there’s a chance that, at that time, your vascular system had an amount of cancer undetectable by our testing.”

“I know. You told me that remission didn’t mean completely gone, just that it was no longer actively detectable.” Brian sucked in his bottom lip and gave Dr. Sanjay a stony gaze. “Now, you’re saying it's detectable again and probably spread.”

“My guess is that it’s spread to your lungs or that you’ve developed lung cancer as a secondary diagnosis to the embryonal carcinoma.” Dr. Sanjay responded, his eyes soft and sympathetic. “We won’t know for sure until after the results of your CT scan and a lung biopsy.”

“What kind of prognosis am I looking at this time?” Brian whispered, barely able to get the words out past the heaviness in his chest.

“With lung cancer, your prognosis drops to about 60%, even lower if it’s in an advanced stage.” Dr. Sanjay reached forward as if to grab Brian’s hand, but he pulled himself back.

“Okay. Great. Let’s do that scan, and I’ll be on my way.” Brian needed to get out of this small, cramped office before he exploded.

“Brian, I understand you need time to process this, but please don’t bury your head in the sand.” Dr. Sanjay called after him. “I will call you when I have the results of your scan.”

With that, Brian left his office and walked over to the diagnostic center next door. An hour later, he was with Emmett and Gus, eating his weight in chocolate chip cookies and denying that anything was wrong.

[elysian-drops]

Hello there!

Little question that might come off as weird but I’ve had it in my head ever since reading the Jealousy Has Thorns chapters. I know Voldemort is very jealous and would most likely kill anyone who touches Harrie but I’m wondering if she does willingly cheat (kiss, sleep or love someone else) how would that changes the dynamic between her and Voldemort ? How would he react ? Besides the obvious violence he would impact on the other party involved, it’s quite clear he can’t hurt her or kill her. Would that be a case of “cheat on me, give yourself to someone else and you will regret it for the rest of your life” or “nothing will ever be the same between us, you’ve betrayed me” or both and something else ? How do you think this would impact the dynamic between them long-term and their relationship? Would they ever recover ?

If you’ve made this far thank you I would love to hear your thoughts !

Oh my god, anon, stressing me out with this imagined scenario. I love it 😂 But no, it’s not a weird question at all!

I think it would be a little of both, as you suggested, and depend on the "severity” of said cheating. I think if it was solely physical, then he would be more okay with it (and kissing/fooling around more so than actually have sexing). Of course, this isn’t to say he’d be fully fine with it— and yes, like you theorized the person she cheated with probably wouldn’t be long for the world— but I believe he would eventually come around to begrudgingly accept it, especially if it was something that only happened once or twice. In his mind, the rational would be that she was probably curious as to what being intimate with others felt like (seeing as V was her first), and would chalk it up to that. We do know Harri leans towards bisexuality (given her crush on Ginny and Cho)— so if she slept with a woman, then it would be even easier for V to say it was an impulsive curiosity. Overall, I can see him being jealous when he finds out, but not allowing it change their relationship too much. That being said, this scenario is for further into the future when their relationship is more well-established (if she happened to sleep with someone else right now, it’d be catastrophic— he’s too insecure when it comes to Harri’s affections to be presently fine with it). Of course, I can also see V interpreting her cheating as a challenge, the possessive bastard he is 😅😂 Turn it into a whole ‘make her tell him, in explicit detail, everything she did with the other person so he can outperform them and prove he’s better’ situation 😂 😏

Where it gets reeeaaall messy though is when feelings are involved 😬Fooling around without any attachment is one thing— but fooling around and developing feelings? Yeah 😅 I personally can’t ever see him recovering from it if Harri told him she loved someone else. In that scenario, it would mean she was choosing them over him and saying what /he/ can offer her— his affection, his loyalty, his everything— wasn’t enough, nor will it ever be. At least when it’s limited to the purely physical, she would still have an /emotional/ attachment with V— but remove that? Yikes. Just yikes. We know he doesn’t handle rejection well, thanks to his childhood trauma, and that he suffers from deeply-suppressed doubts of self-worth. In fact, one of his greatest fears is just that: Harri will come to reject him for not being ‘good enough’ (which I could write an entire paragraph about how that’s tied into his ego and psyche to the point he worries his own soul will find himself lacking— but I digress). Anyway, Harri would be confirming these doubts and I truly believe it would absolutely devastate him. Push him right to the extremes, you know? Plus, as you’ve pointed out, he’s an insanely jealous individual who doesn’t know how to share or deal with competition for Harri’s affection. Hell, he already has difficulty coping with the fact she has preexisting /platonic/ relationships— so never mind a romantic once. Also, I think the intensity of his reaction would depend on /when/ she meets this person: was it someone she knew /before/ her life with V? Or was it someone she met while they were together? Because if it’s the former, then there might be the potential— and let me stress this word might— for a degree of understanding since it would be a pre-established relationship. But if it was someone she met afterwards? Well, it would only compound his feelings of inadequacy/serve as proof to it.

I gotta be real with you though, it would be a very, very bleak situation if she ever said she loved someone else. Turn it into a ‘Dead Dove’ situation real fast 😅 I don’t see him ever trusting her again and, frankly, giving up on having a relationship with her entirely. Basically, he would shut down— and not in a ‘I’m going to cry myself to sleep every night’ way, but in a ‘I’m turning off my humanity’ way. In order to cope, he would seek to distance himself from her and the memories of what they once were by viewing her as /only/ a vessel for his soul. To that end, I could see her being locked away somewhere without any social interaction— and then, maybe after a couple of decades, only having V sporadically visit her. There would be a lot of denial on his part that he’s hurt by her betrayal— because he’s ‘Lord Voldemort’ and is above such trifling emotions (or so he’d tell himself)— and this would manifest in how he acts going forward 😅 All of that progress/emotional growth we’ve seen would be obliterated as he becomes closer to the tyrant portrayed in the canon (though probably worse, to be honest) and force Harri to watch as he burns the world down. For the first few months following her betrayal, he would target her weaknesses— just to make her hurt— and wouldn’t have any qualms about breaking his promise on harming those she cared for. Hell, he’d do it in front of her, even—a very much so ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ mentality. I can even picture him going full sadist mode and having her either kill her lover herself, or keep them around for a few decades to torture. Basically, it would bring out the /absolute worst/ in him. I mean, this is the same guy who skinned a man alive and beheaded a house-elf like it was just another Tuesday 😅😅 He definitely has it in himself to be extraordinarily cruel and vicious, and her betrayal would be the final straw.

Overall though, I don’t think he would look favorably upon cheating of any sort— but he would be able to process/justify one kind more easily than another and move forward. But also tell me why I lowkey want to write the second scenario now……. 😬🤭 Maybe as an alternative ending sort of situation? 😂 Anyway, I could write a lot more on this, but this answer’s getting pretty long as it is— so I’ll leave it here for now!

Thanks for the question and the food for thought! 💕

[fyodior]

Caring for Toji while he learns to live with his injuries and the damage to his body!! Flora!! 😭😭 I've been thinking about it for so long!! Hugging you so tightly right now!

Because injuries and scars mean nothing to him, but damage that big? Something he can't really recover from, only learn to live with? Omg yes! There will be times where he can still feel pain in the arm he no longer has, or even an itch or a feeling of coldness and when he moves to rub the pain away or wrap a blanket around himself, there's just. Nothing.

And I mean, he'd accept that Gojo was just getting revenge. Toji was doing his job, and Gojo wasn't in his right mind (at least not fully) and fought back against the person that killed him. But of course it'd still create hatred and resentment because Gojo continues on from that fight completely undamaged because of the reverse technique, but Toji can't even dream of that!

And Toji now feels completely powerless when the pain is too much or he can't do what he used to and feeling like his partner deserves so much more, the man he used to be!! But that can bring comfort to, laying him down, running hands along his body, each scar that he's gained over the years, tracing and kissing along them if the pain isn't too much and he's comfortable with it, reassuring him that he's still the same Toji Fushiguro. Reminding him that you both made a promise to look after each other and care for the other no matter what happened, no matter how hurt you both were.

And slowly Toji learning to accept it, to accept help from you and be willing to start to live with the new life that he has, you by his side like promised. It gets easier day by day, with him slowly coming to terms with how things are and maybe one day, he'll stop blaming and hating himself too.

Sorry, I got carried away, but like I said, I can't get this out of my head!!

- ❄

ANON BABY I’M LITERALLY GONNA CRY YOU GET IT SO MUCH THIS IS ACTUALLY WHAT I WAS ENVISIONING it’s so perfect thank you!!!!

exploring not only toji’s physical recovery but the mental one too, the debilitating guilt he’d certainly feel, but also unavoidable resentment he’d feel for gojo remaining completely (physically) unharmed. like he came to terms with the fact that gojo was just defending himself and that he was in the wrong but he still can’t help but hate him a little for it. that’s such a good concept thank you for bringing it up!!!!

and i just love the idea of how much he’d inevitably try to push away his lover bc it tears him apart to have to rely on them that much, and he fucking hates being a burden to them. when you have to help him get dressed and eat and bathe and even go to the bathroom he wishes he had just fucking died that day because it couldn’t possibly get worse than this. he loves you to the moon and back so it kills him to see you burdened with something so huge as to become a caregiver for an extremely disabled person. but toji doesn’t understand and truly can’t grasp how much you love him and how you’d choose this in every single lifetime over him being dead. of course it’s hard, you can’t deny that, and there’s certainly worse days than others, but you will always always love him through it and care for him until the bitter end.

and also just exploring what his life would look like post losing an arm and recovering from a million surgeries would be so interesting. i LOVE the way you said “something he can’t recover from, only learn to live with” and i think i might steal that line if you don’t mind JSJDKSK because that’s so true. never before in his life has he not been able to overcome the countless injuries he’s had to endure - and he’s had his fair share of pretty nasty ones - but this one is too much. not even the invincible toji fushiguro can recover from losing an entire chunk of his body. he can only learn to cope, and he’s never had to cope before. it’s unbearable for him, even worse than the physical pain sometimes.

he is in so much pain too, and he can’t do much for himself at all in the beginning. he needs you for absolutely everything, he can’t even fuckin sit up alone at first, and he hates it so much. i love the part you said about trying to wrap a blanket around himself but there’s nothing there, and the phantom pain he’d have to endure. the worst part is he feels like he deserves it. he deserves the unbearable pain and loss of function. he deserves how he feels when you have to spoon feed him because he’s too weak and in too much pain to do it himself. he lost his dominant arm too, which makes things so much worse. i just made that up but i feel like it’d make for a more interesting story LMAO

i also just totally rambled but you’ve given me so many ideas that i love so much and i’m so grateful to you so thank you!!!! hopefully soon when ive posted some other fics im obligated to i can get some words on paper for this bc honestly i’m itching to.

[thuviel]

For Fennec: Chocolate (>:)) 3, 5 Cheesecake: 1 Cupcakes: 2

For Faron: Ice cream: 5 Doughnuts: 3, 5

For Nicodemus: Candy: 1, 4 Ice cream: 3 For Dio: Lollipops: 2, 4 Doughnuts: 1

Hello I bring questions :DD no need to answer all, but would love to hear! hehe

Ohohoho a whole marathon of questions!

Fennec

Chocolate 3 What does your OC find comforting when they are distressed or anxious? Are they able to ask for this comfort from others? Or do they need to be alone?

Depends on the kind of distress and how strong it is. But generally his strongest instict is to withdraw and be alone, usually in animal form (I can finally say this omg!!). Sometimes straight up just flee the situation. What actually comforts him a lot though is kind words from others, words of affirmation, words of comfort, just gentle words that prove to him that things are not as disastrous as they might seem. He would never in a million years even consider asking for that though xD

5 Does your OC ever comfort eat when they are unhappy? If so then what food do they find most comforting and why? If not, then what might they do instead?

His appetite gets worse if he's unhappy so not much comfort eating happening. However he has discovered that he loves chocolate, thanks to Nielh so graciously sharing it, and that actually helps when he's feeling down c:

Cheesecake 1 Has your OC fully realised their own potential? If not in their own view, then perhaps in the opinions of others?

Nooooo, he's only just barely started on his journey of growth and self realisation, he has miles still to go. But his new friends are helping so so much!

Cupcakes 2 Does your OC enjoy parties and festivals? Or do they find them somewhat overwhelming? Or even pointless or frivolous?

Yes but also it's Complicated TM

Faron

Ice cream 5 At what point did your OC consider their childhood to be over? Was it a milestone in terms of age? Or did it follow a particular event? Did they feel ready for adulthood at that point?

Hmm I think if we're talking strictly childhood, then he felt like that part of his life was over once he started joining the hunting parties around 14-15. He didn't consider himself an adult though until he received his vallaslin at 17. He definitely thought he was ready for adulthood but boy did he very quickly face tough challenges he was not prepared for xD

Doughnuts 3 Does your OC take the time necessary to recover fully from exertions or strain? Or do they sometimes push themselves to get back out out into the fray (literally or figuratively) before they are truly ready?

Oh once he's with the Inquisition he constantly pushes himself out there without being ready and recovered. Sometimes because he truly has to but often just because he feels obligated to and would feel too guilty resting in his rooms when he feels "needed out there". He isn't completely unreasonable though and some stern words from the healers, Josephine or Dorian will persuade him to stay and rest more. Usually.

5 Does your OC believe that good deeds should be their own reward? Or do they prefer that appreciation be shown through generous material compensation?

Oh Faron is definitely an altruist, honestly not helping people and doing things out of kindness would eat him up inside. Who cares about rewards.

Nicodemus

Candy 1 Does your OC have any "guilty pleasures"? Are they at all secretive or embarassed about these?

Honestly what gives him most enjoyment is sitting with Sips and work on spell stuff together, or just watching Sips be brilliant and work on spells. He would definitely be super embarassed to admit that when he was younger, but as they grow old together I don't think it's a secret anymore c:

4 For what (if anything) is your OC most greedy? Perhaps fame? Sexual satisfaction? Knowledge? Power? Or something else entirely?

Knowledge, 100%. In fact he often does quite stupid/inadvisable things for the chance that he might learn a tiny bit of new knowledge. That and ink and paper for new spells xD

Ice cream 3 Does your OC have a good sense of humour? What kind of jokes do they find funny? Do they have a favourite joke themselves?

It takes a lo to make him laugh at jokes, he has to really find it funny. Usually that would be something with a really clever word play or particularly niche wizard references.

Dio

Lollipops: 2 To what degree does your OC fear failure? Are they something of a perfectionist in all things? Or can they accept a chance of failure in some situations?

Dio is a bit less of a perfectionist actually. He doesn't really fear failure too much in most circumstances, after all his entire existence has been framed as a failure from the day he was born, so he doesn't feel like he can really do that much worse than being born in the first place.

4 What does your OC see as being their greatest failure? Does the memory of this still fill them with feelings of guilt or shame? Are their feelings of failure justified?

There isn't really any one big thing Dio failed that haunts them or anything. But when they were still small they tried their hardest for years to please their parents, they thought that if they behaved really well and did perfectly in all their lessons and chores that their parents would finally love them. They were around 5 when it finally sunk in that no matter how well they did or how much they excelled in their lessons, their parents never paid any more attention to them and never looked at them with anything other than disdain. They felt like they failed to make their parents love them. This realisation definitely shattered Dio's self worth and made them feel like an unlovable ugly thing that didn't deserve to be alive, feelings that they have struggled with since.

Doughnuts 1 Is your OC someone who finds it easy to relax? Or do they tend to always be busy and in need of external stimulation?

They prefer to be moving and actively doing things, pausing too long and not having anything to occupy them easily leads to dwelling on dark thoughts and their terrible self worth. Being in the army this wasn't a problem though, there was either constant training or actual battle happening, whenever there was a small break for rest they would pass out from exhaustion and not have any time to think. Then with the tadpole gang there always was some problem to solve or travelling to be done, so that worked fine too.

[transskywardsword]

Spider Meet Fly/Fly Meet Spider - Chapter Nine: Trust

Ganondorf and Link a heart-to-heart

read the full story on ao3 here

They found the library eventually, after a good fifteen minutes of walking in circles, neither Ganondorf nor Link really caring about the destination as much as they did access to frank conversation. Link liked Rauru, and trusted Sonia, but there was pressure there, an imbalance, that came with talking to the founders of the same royal family he had pledged himself to. There was a constant exhausting expectation on the back of Link’s neck that insisted he be on his best behavior, lest he make the wrong move and undo the creation of Hyrule itself—and, potentially prevent his best friend from ever existing.

The royal couple were, to put it simply, a tad overwhelming. Ganondorf was not—he set Link on edge, but in the way the heat of battle did, invigorating and familiar. He was not to be trusted, that much was certain, at least, not until Link grew a better understanding of what made the Gerudo king tick. Until then, Link was reasonably wary, but the potential of conflict, of going toe to toe with a new enemy, made his heart race with excitement in a way it hadn’t since…

Since he awoke five years ago, he was tempted to say. Something about the thought of brushing against danger, of pushing his luck to the limits, made him feel alive. Link was fairly certain that he should look into that feeling, analyze it and make sure it wasn’t the kind of thing that would later bite him in the ass, but instead, he settled down into the blankets of his guest suite and thought back on his conversations with the Gerudo king.

The man had been witty, with a dragon-sharp tongue and dry sense of humor. He’d obviously been riled up by breakfast and while he wasn’t quite comfortable enough to complain like Zelda would have, enough slipped out to make Link laugh. Ganondorf had been particularly annoyed with the nickname Rudania had given him.

“I am a king,” He said, sounding surprisingly petulant, “and I should be addressed as such. Not called… cute.”

Link had nodded. He’d choked on breakfast when Ganondorf was first called Ganon, especially at Sonia’s comments, a sudden terror that he associated with blood moons rising in his throat. But Sonia had noticed his distress in an instant, kissed his forehead and pressed his hand to her belly, and all was well.

More or less.

Ganondorf, once they stood among the books and scrolls, had been frank with his needs—clothes and diadem, some councilwomen he trusted, his closest advisor, Naboris, and, most importantly, his horse. That last part made Link smile; or, it would have, had guilt not been steadily eating away at him.

Ganondorf’ kindness was sour, a noble pursuit with far too much lime and not enough sugar. The man said he was looking for an ally-- that much Link truly believed. But a friend? Link had spent years in court during the time prior to the Calamity as a member of the royal guard, and even if he didn’t remember all of it, he remembered enough to know that one’s goal was never friendship.

Perhaps the Gerudo desert’s court carried different rules. Link knew the Gerudo politics of Riju’s time were less ruthless than the politics he had been surrounded by as a knight—he remembered well the first time Zelda came to see Riju while still not fully recovered from a horrid bout of the flu and how shocked his princess had been when Riju insisted to hell with politics and that instead they would have a day at the royal bath house together and let the hot water and warm steam clear Zelda’s head.

It had been a sharp contrast from the Hylian court pre Calamity; one of the oldest memories he had of Zelda happened a few weeks after being appointed as her bodyguard when she came down with something after freezing in the rain and waters of the Spring of Courage, praying through a thunderstorm the likes of which hadn’t been seen in months. It was as if Farore Herself had called down Farosh and told him to make sure Zelda’s time in the Spring was as utterly miserable as possible; even Link had felt nervous standing in the pouring rain with the Master Sword in hand, feeling rather like a lightning rod standing beside her with a blade of metal. They had hurried out of the Spring when it became clear that nothing of divine importance was going to happen, and Link had had to fish her out of the Spring, spluttering and gagging, when she slipped on a wet stone. The next day, in court, she was a feverish, shivering mess and the ’audacity’ she had to be visibly ill in front of others left her with both nobles laughing at her behind their hands and her father fuming, embarrassed by her snot-covered face. He’d said her appearance made them look weak, and that it cost them some of the much-needed support for furthering a relationship with a newly independent territory outside the continent.

“How,” King Hyrule had said, “Can I expect them to trust Hyrule’s strength when their princess cannot appear strong at her lowest?”

Link and Zelda might not have been speaking then, but Link had still burned with anger for her, and while she refused his help when it came to bringing soup and fluffing pillows and keeping her company, he had still sat outside the door of her bedroom, listening for her quiet wheezing and sneezes, waiting for the color to come back to her cheeks and the gloss to clear from her eyes.

So, perhaps, the courts of Ganondorf’s home looked different from the courts of Hyrule, and perhaps, perhaps, he was being genuine, and had really come with the intent to extend an olive branch, and Link was completely taking advantage of the man’s desire for a friend while in an unfamiliar world.

Well, shit.

Link rolled onto his belly and buried his face in his pillows. His gut hurt and he was all too aware of what the feeling was: guilt, and indecision. He knew why Rauru wanted Link to keep an eye on Ganondorf, understood why Rauru felt he needed to know the man’s every move—Link understood, but it still felt wrong, deeply so, and it kept him up tonight, tossing and turning in the too big guest bed.

Rauru had promised they would work on channeling light power together in the morning, but for now, Link’s skin just itched. Zelda would be disappointed in him if she knew what he had pledged himself to, and the knowledge burned. He had spent the past five years figuring out who he was, his thoughts and feelings and morals, and he couldn’t justify these actions to that person. Absolutely not. He’d tell Rauru no once they met together in a few hours. Apologize and explain he just couldn’t do it.

And yet… what if Ganondorf was lying? What if this was all a ruse, and Link was falling for it? Ganondorf had attempted to demolish the castle, and Link knew better than to trust his miraculous change of heart. Someone had to keep an eye on Ganondorf, and Link was the perfect option. What if he didn’t try to befriend Ganondorf, just allowed it to happen, and happened to take note of Ganondorf’s every move in the process? Was it the same? Link groaned and sat up. He ran his right hand down his face; the feeling of his impossibly light stone left hand on his skin still left him with discomforted goosebumps. He ran a hand through his hair and squinted out into the darkness of the guest suite. He wished Zelda was here; she always knew what to do. Link missed her so much it ached, burned, a cut inside his heart that had festered and begun to rot, the spot she normally resided replaced with maggots and decay.

Link swore. He couldn’t lie in this damn bed any longer. He threw the blankets off and fumbled for the light— a strange mirror-shaped item the servants had provided called a ‘light device’ (unbelievably original) that ran from the same power source as the flame emitters and floating hover stones. Link wouldn’t pretend to understand the technology— magic? — but he would be the first to admit how useful it was. He’d have to take some of those capsule things he’d seen in Mineru’s lab with him once he figured out how to get home; Zelda would be over the moon over the chance to analyze them. Link pulled a shawl over the sleep clothes Sonia had provided and threaded a belt over the drawstring pants, securing Fi at his side. He needed some air, needed to get the blood in his veins pumping. He’d been embarrassingly out of breath after fighting Ganondorf the other day; he was out of practice and still recovering from the gloom poisoning. He needed to be at his best if he was going to have an (ex?) enemy beside him. Link adjusted the Master Sword and silently slipped past the suite door. Link walked without a purpose, letting his swirling thoughts lead him. Eventually, he found himself before a wide, double door he didn’t recognize. He reached out a hand and shoved it open.

It was a training room, or at least something like it. The floor was wood, sanded smooth, and most of it was covered in pale green mats, some fabric and some braided reeds, with training dummies lining the walls. It was nice, though simple, and Link moved further into the room. The far wall had a door with a padlock, but it was only half shut, the lock still poking out over the lockbox. Sloppy.

Link glanced over his shoulder. The castle was quiet—it was just past midnight. No one would be up for hours. Surely no one would mind if he just…

Oops. It seemed in his fiddling with the lock, it accidentally popped open. And without the lock holding it closed, it seemed the door slid open alllll on its own. Who would have thought it would be so poorly made?

The room was lined ceiling to floor with golden Zonai weapons. Sheilds, spears, short swords, long swords, bows—they glowed a wicked blue in the light and were warm when Link ran his fingers over the metal. Not metal? Similar to the ancient blades then, which had also been made with something halfway between metal and not. Fi looked so small, so pitiful, compared to the glittering gold, and Link gripped her hilt lovingly. It didn’t matter how prettier they looked in comparison to his broken blade, Fi would always be superior—would always be his, molding perfectly for his hand and no one else’s. A sword bathed in sacred light, unstoppable even against the Calamity.

… or she had been.

Link became all too aware in that moment of just how shattered and mutilated Fi’s body was.  That mummy was still on the loose. What was Zelda doing in the future without him? Link had no doubt she could protect herself, what with the power of Hylia and Nayru on her side, Triforce of Wisdom soaring through her bloodstream, but he couldn’t help but worry. Was she safe? Was she angry with him? Was she working to put an end to the mummy without him?

He had to get back to her. He had to. Fix Fi, return to his princess, and chop the mummy’s damn head off. Once Fi was back in one piece she would be unstoppable, and the mummy would certainly crumple under her holy wrath. Until then, Zelda would have to fight without him. Despite his faith in her, the thought hurt.

There was a slight creak as the door to the training hall opened, and Link ducked down into the weapons room, pulling the door shut. Through the crack between the doors, he could make out a wide shadow. Link held his breath, willing his pounding heart beat silent. Nothing to see here, nothing to see here—

“Hm?” The shadow moved closer, stopping just before the door and bending down to pick up the discarded padlock. Fuck, fuck—

“Sloppy,” A deep, accented voice murmured, and Link froze. Ganondorf. What the hell was he doing here? There was a jingling sound as Ganondorf fingered the padlock, and Link brought a hand over his mouth, hoping to muffle his breathing.

It was at that moment, after days of silence, that Fi chose to speak. She chimed, screaming of danger, and weak, flickering blue lit up the back room. The shadow before the door froze before slowly, slowly, sliding the door open.

It was Ganondorf, wrapped in a dressing robe that Link recognized as one of Rauru’s own—likely the only clothes that would have fit the Gerudo to wear until the Hyrulian messengers returned from the desert. To the man’s credit, he hid his surprise well, simply crossing his massive arms and raising a red brow.

“If it isn’t our little foreign knight,” He rumbled, and Link flushed.

“I didn’t except anyone to be awake.” He signed.

“So you spend most nights hidden in closets, then?”

“No! Besides, I doubt you’re supposed to be out of your suite without an escort.” Link signed, jutting his chin out, and Ganondorf’s face soured.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you slip by your guards and go wandering?”

Ganondorf looked almost… petulant. “I was looking for the library.”

“You didn’t find it.”

“No shit.”

Link snorted. “Still, you slipped your escorts.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Link raised an eyebrow, hands coming to his hips, and Ganondorf sighed through his teeth.

“I was tired of being followed around by tiny judgy Hylians.” He said, and Link didn’t bother hiding his smile.

“I used to be a royal escort.” He said, “Zelda felt much of the same.”

Ganondorf’s eyebrows rose. “An escort?”

“Not like that!”

Ganondorf smiled. It was a real, proper one, bright despite its small size, and a laugh slipped through the man’s teeth. It was small, quiet, but a laugh all the same, and it brightened the man’s eyes. They crinkled in the corner, and Link was flabbergasted to see it. It looked natural on Ganondorf’s face, and sounded right coming from him, which was surprising given how much the man seemed to enjoy glowering.

“I was her assigned knight. A personal bodyguard.”

Link turned to the wall and ran his hands over the weapons hung up with care.

“Long sword, short sword, or spear?”

“Hm?”

“Do you prefer a long sword, short sword, or spear?”

Ganondorf’s brow furrowed. “Long?”

Link pulled a beautifully forged gold and blue great sword from the wall and tossed it to Ganondorf, who snatched it out of the air with ease.

“Are you sure this is wise?” He said, rolling the hilt over the back of his hand. Link shrugged.

“Will you give me a reason to regret this?” He signed, then slid a short sword off the wall into his hands.

The corner of Ganondorf’s lip quirked. “No.”

“Good. On guard.”

“Wha—”

Link didn’t give Ganondorf time to prepare, let alone raise his blade, before Link was off, sword raised and feet in a fighting stance.

“You didn’t give much warning,” Ganondorf grunted as Link surged forward, and Link just barked out a laugh, grinning. Ganondorf’s sword came up, and Link slipped under it, swiping at Ganondorf’s side. Ganondorf spun out of the way, moving surprisingly fast for one so big. Link grinned. Good. He liked a challenge.

“I don’t think your king would be very happy with you if he found out about this,” Ganondorf said, and Link shrugged with a grin. Ganondorf barked out a laugh. “Very well then!”

The larger man dipped down, his hulking frame suddenly light and dexterous as he moved, his sword dancing, a vicious viper flashing its teeth, a dragon of blue and gold moving through the air with deadly grace. Link rushed up to meet Ganondorf’s blade, once, twice, before their hilts caught. Ganondorf pushed forward, relying on his strength and bulk—but just because Link was little didn’t mean he wasn’t clever. He shifted his weight and rushed forward, sliding his blade up Ganondorf’s in a shower of sparks, before sliding between his legs and bounding up behind him. He was up in an instant, sword at the small of Ganondorf’s back, who growled and spun. He brought his sword down hard, the combined weight of the blade and his strength dragging the man down like a hailstorm. Link bounded out of the way and Ganondorf followed.

Link was on the defensive, and he was loving it. He ducked back, guard open, waiting, waiting—Ganondorf took the bait, slashing forward, and Link backflipped.

Everything slowed. The air grew heavy yet impossibly light, and the feeling of a flurry rush sent electricity up his arms, racing through him and pushing him forward, forward, forward. He was filled with an unspeakable power during the moments in the air before a flurry rush, and Link grinned at Ganondorf’s wide eyes. One strike, two, three, four, spinning in the air and dragging Ganondorf down with him. Ganondorf stumbled back on his ass and Link landed on his feet, panting. Damn. Still out of touch. At his side, unnoticed by Link but certainly not by Ganondorf, Link’s secret stone glowed green, the light barely seeping from the scabbard.

“What,” Ganondorf wheezed as he stood, sword forgotten on the ground, struggling to catch his breath, “was that?”

Link grinned.

“F-L-U-R-R-Y  R-U-S-H” He spelt as he tossed the sword to the side. Ganondorf nodded. He wiped the sweat that had dripped into his eyes away.

“You have to teach me how to do that.”

“What in Hyrule is going on here?” boomed a furious-looking Rauru from the open training room doors. Link’s smile slipped away and Ganondorf grimaced. A trio of guards hurried in behind him, spears drawn.

“Rauru, I—” Link started, moving towards the Zonai, who turned his glare to him.

“Silence.”

Link gaped at him.

“Do have any idea how worried I’ve been? How worried Sonia has been? Out of bed, no note, wandering the halls, giving a sword to a potential hostile instead of reporting that he is wandering around without an escort—”

“Rauru, it’s fine—”

“I said silence.” Rauru thundered and Link paled, mouth gaping open. “I have been searching everywhere for you. I was worried sick. What if he hurt you? Why on earth would you think it was any kind of intelligent to give a sword to someone who just tried to invade your damn country? Are you daft? What were you thinking?”

“Your Majesty,” Ganondorf said, stepping forward, “don’t be angry with the boy, please. This situation is my fault—”

“Yes,” Rauru said cooly, “I don’t doubt that.”

Ganondorf swallowed. “Link heard me in the hallway and followed after. He wanted to keep an eye on me and ensure nothing went wrong. I bullied him into sparring.”

“So you fold so easily to peer pressure?” Rauru hissed, and Link hung his head. Rauru sighed. “Fine. To bed. Ganondorf, a word.”

The three guards crowded Link out of the room into the hallway, ignoring Link’s protests, and continued to ignore him the way back to his suite.

“I want to speak to Rauru—I need to—stop it, stop manhandling me, take me to Sonia, this is ridiculous—”

“Link?”

Link spun around to where Sonia stood in the hallway, hair a mess and still in her sleep clothes.  She rushed to his side and pulled him into a hug. “Thank goodness. Ra was so worried.”

“Sonia? Oh, thank Hylia, finally someone with some sense.”

Sonia frowned as Link stepped back and grabbed her shoulders.

“Rauru is drilling into Ganondorf when he didn’t do anything wrong,” Link whispered, his voice for her ears only. “I’m the one who snuck out, I’m the one who challenged him to a spar, I’m the one who gave him a sword, I—”

“He still left his suite without an escort, love.” She said softly, cupping his face.

“But—”

“Ganondorf is still a dangerous person, dear, even if he surrendered.”

“So he’s a prisoner. If he is one, say it!” Link spat, the loudest words he’d spoken since he screamed at Zelda to run all those days ago. Sonia’s eyes were wide.

“He… He’s not…”

“Are you so sure?” Link said, and Sonia bit her lip.

“Go to bed, Link. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“No.”

Something strange passed over Sonia’s face, a look Link had never seen before, and he refused to let it dissuade him.

“Is this what you want for Hyrule? To hold a man under lock and key, strongarmed by guards at every turn, when he is doing his best? He asked me to be his friend, Sonia—that is not the actions of a confident man, ready to go cause some unspeakable misfortune, that is a call for help. He is alone. I don’t care if he may be lying or if he’s playing us for fools, he’s still alone. No one should be alone.”

Sonia pressed her lips into a thin line. Link’s throat hurt. He hadn’t spoken this much this loud at all in his time in the past, and his throat was making that very clear. Sonia took his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs along his palms. She was quiet for a long, long time, before looking down and meeting Link’s eyes. Hers were unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I let my fear get the best of me. Ra and I both did.”

Link pulled back his hands. “I’m not the one to apologize to,” he signed. Sonia bit her lip and nodded. She extended a hand, and Link took it.

“Let us go stop them before they set the castle on fire,” she said softly, and Link nodded. Sonia’s grip on his hand tightened as she led them back to the gymnasium.

Link could hear the argument even before he saw the doors. A crowd had grown servants and soldiers alike present and listening in with voyeuristic ears. Link was surprised Twinrova hadn’t made an appearance. Likely being strongheld in their own rooms.

“We have granted you an unbelievable amount of leeway considering the circumstances—”

“Ah, yes, because guards at every doorway are such signs of trust—”

“Trust? Are you serious right now? What reason, on the Gods’ green continent, have you provided to me for me to trust you? I am many things, Ganondorf, but I am far from a fool. Not even two days ago you were content to send a molduga swarm to bash my doors in—”

“As if your hands are so clean. I know how you speak of me, of the Gerudo. Do not act like you hadn’t planned to do the same, to force your way past our Great River and take what is rightfully ours.”

“So, you’re to tell me that this wish to join my people and unite this continent is what, a trick? A ruse?”

“A surrender. Baring our necks first before you could force us to bend them.”

That seemed to shut Rauru up. His mouth opened and closed, open and closed, and Ganondorf scoffed.

“Ra,” Sonia said softly from the doorway, “I think that is enough.”

"Sonia..."

"Be reasonable." She said, chin lifted. Rauru took a shaky breath and turned fully to his wife. Link stood beside her, arms crossed.

"Link- I simply--" The Zonai stumbled over the words, and Link made no motion to speak, simply staring up at Rauru with hard eyes. A surprising look crossed Rauru’s face—shame. He turned back to Ganondorf and sighed, his entire body sagging. There was a stretching silence, as if the king had forgotten how to speak. Then he raised his hands.

They were in the wrong position, awkwardly crossed and turned outwards instead of cupped on his heart, but the hands still showed his open palms. Ganondorf’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as Rauru bent at the waist. It was far too stiff, but it was a bow.

Link was tempted to tell Rauru that that was the incorrect way to show remorse, that to ask forgiveness one would extend their hands outward, palms up, and bend down till they were told to rise, but Rauru already looked out of place bowing before Ganondorf.

“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I let my fear for my people and my family control me. It was wrong to bark accusations at you when you have shown nothing but remorse. Trust is a two way street, and I have refused to provide it.”

Ganondorf blinked. Surprise fluttered across his face before being shuttered away, his face going perfectly blank.

“When the other races came to me and offered allyship, I welcomed them with open arms. I have not done the same to you.”

“Rise,” Ganondorf said evenly, and Rauru did so.

“Were I in your shoes, I would not trust me either.” He said plainly. “While I do not… appreciate… your hostility, I understand it.”

“I have been paranoid and unkind. I have freely gained your ire.”

Ganondorf chuckled at that, crossing his arms. He looked smug for a moment, just a flash of it across his face, before righting himself and smoothing out his expression.

“Very well. How’s this—we compromise. Until my councilwomen and Lady Naboris arrive, I shall accept a single escort, as a sign of good will.”

Rauru nodded, and Link cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it,” he signed. “I’d happily take up a spot beside Ganondorf until his people arrive. We get along well enough, and it seems I know the most of Gerudo culture in this castle.”

Rauru’s hand came to his chin, fingers twirling the fur there.

“Are you sure?”

Link raised his head. “Positive.”

“Is that suitable for you?” Rauru asked Ganondorf, who nodded.

“Aye.”

“Then I give you both my blessing—though, please, if you wish to spar, save it for the morning when a medic can be on site.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Ganondorf said, and Rauru sighed. It was silent between the two rulers, for one minute, two, two and a half...

“Very well. Sonia, I say it’s time we disperse the voyeurs and return to bed.”

“Are you quite sure?” Sonia said softly, and Rauru swallowed. He did not look sure.

“Positive.” He said, and Sonia nodded, taking his hand. He ran his free one over her round stomach before cupping her face and leaning down to press a kiss to her nose. She smiled.

“Good night, Link. Lord Ganondorf. Please, go to bed as well, you two. The morning will come quicker than you think.”

And then they were gone. Link shifted awkwardly, flexing his hands and Ganondorf cleared his throat.

“Do you wish to return to bed? Because frankly, after that…”

Link let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think I could sleep.”

They stood in silence, and Link was suddenly aware of his pounding heart. He’d never seen Rauru so angry before—though, if he was being honest, he thought it more likely that the Zonai had been more scared than he had angry. Still, in that moment, the Zonai had been terrifying.

“I think it would be unwise to linger,” Ganondorf said, picking up the long sword. “I doubt we should push our luck after all… that.”

Link nodded, and picked up the short sword. Fi was warm at his side, and chimed softly, flickering blue at his side. Once again she begged for him to hold her, and Link fingered her hilt.

“That’s quite the sword,” Ganondorf said and he hung up his long sword, taking the short sword from Link and doing the same. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful hilt.”

Link grinned. “She’s something else.”

“May I see it?”

Link’s smile slipped. “The sword has… seen better days.”

“Oh?”

Link wrapped his hand around the Master Sword’s hilt. With his left hand gone, so were the burns from the metal super heating under the mummy’s attack and fusing to his flesh. Link had meticulously cleaned any lingering skin from the hilt, as well as taking advantage of the tools in Mineru’s workshop to polish the leather and repair what cosmetics he could, leaving the hilt just as beautiful as it had been before the mummy encounter, but Fi’s blade was still horrific to look at. Shattered and cracked, melted and burned by gloom, stained with otherworldly soot. Link took a deep breath. He drew the Master Sword from its scabbard, and Fi twinkled weakly, glowing blue. Ganondorf’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my.”

Link flushed.

“That must have been quite the battle.”

Link nodded, flexing his left fingers, and Ganondorf’s eyes went wide.

“Was that when…?”

Link nodded and Ganondorf frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Link shrugged.

“It is what it is.” He whispered, and Ganondorf didn’t manage to hide his surprise.

“I didn’t think you could speak.”

Link moved his hand in a ‘so-so’ movement. “Comes and goes.”

“Ah. I see.”

“It’s been getting better.” Link said, voice whisper-quiet. “But still, it’s easier not to.”

Ganondorf sat and patted the ground next to him, and Link flopped down. He gently laid Fi across his knees, and she flashed weakly.

“I’ve never seen a glowing sword before.”

“She’s speaking. She speaks to me.”

Ganondorf hmmed. “My sword was a gift from my mother. It’s passed down to each ruler of the Gerudo, as a sign of power and veneration of those that came before.”

“My sword has to be earned. Not just anyone can wield it—even drawing it can be deadly for someone not deemed worthy.”

“Then you must be quite the warrior.”

Link bit his lip and shook his head. “It took a long time to be able to draw her from her pedestal. Almost killed me the first time.”

“Killed you?”

“She’s a very opinionated sword.”

Ganondorf snorted. “So it seems.”

“She’s…” Link paused, rolling his next words around in his head. Could he tell Ganondorf about the Calamity? About the Master Sword? How close could he get to the truth of it all without telling too much?

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to.”

“No, I just… it’s complicated.”

Ganondorf tilted his head back, eyes closed, and his face seemed so much younger like that. Less twisted with something dark and hard, more open and bright. Link wondered what the man had been like before all this, before moldugas and war.

“The Celebration of the Heroines is in a week, give or take,” he said, opening a single eye and glancing to Link. “The members of my court should be here by then—Naboris is a stern woman until a party comes around. I’m sure you’ll get along swimmingly. Though, you never said. The Festival isn’t celebrated outside of the desert—just how did you learn so much about it?” The heaviness of before lifted from Link’s chest and he let out a breathy laugh. “What, going to integrate me again? Or shall you wait for the next group meal?” Ganondorf grinned. It fit his face well. “Perhaps” Link shifted on the ground. How much could he tell of the Calamity without mentioning time travel? Could he tell his story without leaving too much room for questioning, for poking and prodding? Ganondorf had shown he was comfortable pushing the boundaries of social convention, after all. Ganondorf raised a red brow and Link swallowed down a sigh. Surely he could afford to give some truth. “I was part of a group of traveling warriors dedicated to protecting the crown: Revali of the Rito, a tad arrogant, but had the skill to back it up. Daruk, a Goron as kind as he was mighty. Mipha, a healer who swung a trident as well as she healed a wound. And Urbosa, a Gerudo warrior with great magical prowess. And…” Ganondorf shifted, leaning forward on his arms. “And?” “My princess. Zelda.” “I’m sure they’re missing you. Why not bring them?” Link examined the long nails on his prosthetic before finally breathing in and saying flatly: “They’re dead.” Ganondorf’s eyes winded for a fraction of a second before his face slipped back into its previous neutrality, touched with a twinge of something surprisingly soft. Was that real? Did Ganondorf really care? “All of them?” “All but the princess.” “I’m sorry. May the sands warm their spirits and the Great River fill them with second life.” The edge of Link’s lip quirked. “Thank you.”

“It must be hard, being alone so far from home.”

Oh, if only Ganondorf knew. Instead, Link waved him off.

“I’m used to being alone. Or, I guess I was. Once they all died, Zelda went on an adventure of her own and we were separated for a long, looong time. We only reunited five years ago.”

“Oh? What was she up to for so long?”

“Fighting a Beast.”

Ganondorf sat up, clearly intrigued, and Link continued.

“A creature of dark magic and great power. My princess… she was born with an amazing golden magic unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She slayed the Beast—I was there when she killed it. Technically, I threw the final blow but she obliterated the thing. Just. Boom. Boom.”

Ganondorf snickered. “She sounds like a fine woman.”

Link beamed at him, and Ganondorf’s snicker became a laugh. “What? She is! She’s an amazing woman. The most powerful fighter I’ve ever seen, but also so intelligent, and brave, and selfless, and—”

“I get it, I get it!” Ganondorf bumped his shoulder, grinning. “Is there any chance of…?”

Link made a face. “Goddesses, no. I love her, truly, deeply love her, but not like that.”

“Hm. I see.”

A comfortable silence grew between them, and Link sighed. Fi was pleasantly warm in his lap, and Link ran his finger down her destroyed spine. He’d find a way to fix her, somehow. Just how he didn’t know yet. The biggest idea he’d come up with so far was to research the sword herself; how she was made, how she came to be, how the Chosen Hero forged her. If he knew what created her, he could remake her—right?

“The creature your Zelda fought—was it the same one that broke your sword?”

Link took a shuddering breath. The mummy was out there, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the future, and Zelda was alone with it. He knew that with Hylia’s power, Zelda was a deeply dangerous person who was capable of great holy destruction, but without the Sword That Seals The Darkness, her chances were greatly hindered. The sword had been needed to beat the Calamity, which frankly seemed weaker than this mummy, all things considered, so the Master Sword would certainly be needed to best that creature. If he would just find a way to get the sword to Zelda, whole and complete, she would be able to take down that thing. If Link had to choose between getting home, or Fi getting home, he knew which one he would choose. It would break his heart, but Fi was needed more than the Hero was. Zelda could succeed without him if she had Fi, but the two of them together wouldn’t get very far without the Master Sword, even with Zelda’s sealing power.

Not that it would come to that. They were both going to get home.

“There was a mummy.” Link murmured, and Ganondorf leaned closer.

“A ghibdo?”

Link shook his head. “Too intelligent. It moved with a purpose, it spoke to me, to Zelda—it knew our names. It knew my sword. And all it took was one attack to destroy my sword. Zelda and I managed to escape, but we were separated, and I ended up here. I don’t… I don’t know where Zelda is. I need to get home, to find her, but I have business with Rauru that I cannot ignore. And… and I have to fix my sword. I can’t go home with it broken. I can’t.”

Ganondorf nodded slowly. He shifted till he was looking straight at Link, his dark eyes level with Link’s own.

“You’ve stood beside me, Link, even against your king. As a Gerudo, I honor your actions, and I swear to return the favor—as long as I remain here, I will do what I can to help you repair that sword. I trust you not to speak of this to Rauru but—”

Ganondorf held out his hand and a flicker of red filled his hand. He made a fist and a red mist seeped out between his fingers before solidifying into a very familiar hilt. Link’s eyes widened at the perfect replica of the shattered Master Sword in Ganondorf’s hand.

“—I’ve always been gifted in magic, particularly illusions. A gift from my mother, I suppose. Together, I’m sure we can find a way to fix things and get you home to your princess as fast as we can.”

He opened his fist and the sword dissolved into nothing. Link brought his hand down from his chin.

“Thank you,” he spoke as he signed, and Ganondorf rested a large hand on his shoulder.

“What else are friends for?”

[hungryandhungover]

Breakups

I've been having a hard time recently...

It's been 3 weeks since I broke up with him. Even though we only dated for 5 months, things moved fast. It was the first time in 4 years I had feelings that strong and the first time in my life I felt a partner truly understood me. Our connection and feelings were very, very real from the start. I still feel them. Our values, our sense of humors, our hearts, our passions. It was something very special to me...He was someone very special to me. An amazing person.

But, while I came in with an open heart and full emotional availability, he was still recovered from a breakup that happened 5 months earlier after his live-in girlfriend of 6 years broke up with him out of the blue simply because she didn't love him anymore.

And while I have had some of the highest moments of my life with him and knew this was real, the moments of disconnect I felt when he wouldn't let himself open up were too strong. I was at a point where I wanted our lives to intertwine, but they were running parallel. Our emotion, physical, and mental chemistry was there, but something in my gut just didn't feel right, something just feeling settled. Like our hooks weren't hooking. He would switch from being comfy sweatshirt to feeling like sand in my hands.

We talked about this many times and communicated openly about my needs not being met. I wanted to talk more, I wanted more dates, I wanted to truly felt like he cared and to see it. He cared about me and truly tried to make the effort. And while tried harder at making me happy, I still was feeling unfulfilled. I knew I was too deep into this feeling to pull myself out, and the only way out was to walk away.

So now I sit here writing this, alone.

The thing is, I know I will find someone great. I'm not scared of being alone, I'm not worried about ending up alone. I know there is someone even better out there that will be an even better match for me no question. So while I "lost" a great person who was great for me in a lot of ways, that's not why I'm having a hard time...

...The struggle that is eating me alive is not knowing if the feelings of insecurity, doubt, and unfulfillment were real, or based on things in my head? When laying out the facts, we DID talk everyday via text, he DID start initiating more plans, he DID show effort like how the week before I ended things he planned on us doing a weekend at his family's house in the Berkshires just us 2. He did try and his feelings were/are real. Yet the lack of initiation of sex, the lack of any verbal affirmation, only seeing eachother 1-2x a min despite living less than a mile apart, and lack of physical touch, and most of all this inexplainable feeling of distance with, not being prioritized, and not being fully incorporated into his life had me feeling bad more than good.

But how much of that is in my head? Was my anxiety about his feelings and what would happen to us and his past making my hypersensative to every word or thing he did (or didn't do) that inevitably lead to our demise? Did my obsession with him possibly being emotionally unavailable just push him farther away from me being overly sensitive and critical to his behavior because it wasn't exactly what I wanted?

OR, was I right? Was he subconsciously already pulling away and not moving forward like I wanted and letting his fear of getting hurt make him keep me at half-an arms distance?

OR, were we just not the match for eachother?

The idea of me ruining the relationship as a possibility of what actually ended it and not having that answer is what is eating me up? Not knowing if I made a mistake and pushed someone away because my anxious thoughts created a false sense of reality is something I just cannot sit in. OR did my anxiety help me catch him not ready to fully commit sooner than a normal person would have sensed which would make it a blessing in disguise?

I don't have the answer, and I never will. How do I move on? How do I forgive myself?

This will be a journey for me. and I don't know what my next step is. But, there is one thing that I do know: whatever happens, I'll be ok

[wittybibliophile]

DREAMLAND BILLIONAIRE SERIES - LAUREN ASHER

Book Three: FINAL OFFER🧁🌅⛵

"@ To everyone who has been underestimated. I hope you prove everyone wrong, including yourself"

*Characters

*CAL a.k.a CALLAHAN (34yr old): The Infamous middle child. The obvious shameless black sheep of the family ( Until you read and read and know that it was family who lead him to that extent, more like his father). A very loving Cat-daddy ( Caddy / Cady ??). He seems like the worst guy in the whole world, doing drug abuse (never getting rid of it- but that is the point of abuse right he can not get rid-rid of it), using his childhood friend for love and sex ( another way of his to suppress his emotions and dealing with shit) , running from his problems ( on constant basis- not even talking about it). Well that is how he starts, to avoid pain, interaction with people and to have a safe distance from their thoughts, hurtful/ judging/ insulting words and expectations or i could say any kind of attention in case of Cal.

He is a cheerful, full of love and care, a person who people cannot not love once you get to know him. The only point is that he is all this warm person when he is sober, which is not often (mostly rare in his case, specially since 6 years ago when he left Alana abruptly one day and promised to never come back). He is back to Lake Wisteria to sell his old family property which is by the lake. But to his surprise not only Lana comes infront of him saying she stays in the house with her 5year old daughter (who by the way comes to see who is at the door at night) but also to find that Lana owns the house having a deed to prove it ( its a old deed written before our loving sneaking grandpa died). He is shocked to think that the child is his because she's the same age as and when Cal left the town, only to find next day that she's Alana's sister's daughter that she gave up because of her excessive drug abuse. Anyway he needs to sell the house according to the will of inheritance within 3-4 months, before summer ends, and he has to stay at the house for that.

There is a lot of emotional rollercoaster from cal's pov. We can feel him suffering for each and everything throughout his life ( that is life, never making it easy right!). The helplessness he goes through by taking small sips all day from his tumblr ( haha!! i used the word - its flask guys…). His need or want to explain, but nobody ever wanted to hear him out. Even on some days Alana chooses to not to listen to him. Cal has ever only loved her, his whole damn life. HE does nit realize it the easy way, he goes through jealousy and doubts but well little pain in love is what that flourishes it right? She says she does not want to be his reason to get sober but somewhere deep he comes to terms with it. That even if it is lana , the the urge to be with her, to be a better person that she deserves is the one which helps him seek help again and fully recover.

Regardless of all of this, I hate Cal's character for one and only one thing that is his lack of confidence in himself to be even alive and living well, to think that he deserves something, something normal or good or even slightly better than it is. He always seem to think the worst, doubts everyone around him ( with himself). His self-loathing and self-pity is too much to read that it hurts you to the core. And to add to that, his father's statements doesn't help even a bit, and even the slightest of jokes from his brothers pushes him to the edge. But nevertheless, that is what life is, sometimes you think the worst and everyday is not the best for you. (never is the best time or day for Cal here).

I truly hate how he blames himself for leaving Alana, for not stopping himself from drinking, and relapsing the two times he returns from rehab ( YES it happens to the best of people. That is why there are professional help available - GUYS ANYONE DEALING WITH DRUG ABUSE AROUND YOU REGARDLESS OF YOU KNOW THEM OR NOT, DO HELP THEM OUT- the least is you can try once). He gives himself less credit, or i might say no credit at all of anything. He does not think he is good enough to work, love, like, make friends. One thing i know is he loves deeply, whatever it may be, he just needs to find it inside him.

Cal has been my favorite character since the first book ( the fine print) and i want to say this proudly that he is still the best of the kane brothers ( for me - he has layers to himself which are so crumpled, undiscovered, chaste if i may say. And to see him unravel from first book to the third is amazing).

*LANA a.k.a ALANA (26yr old): A lovely old school type of woman ( the only Spanish teacher in wisteria). She loves baking a lot ( just like me!!). She believes in good in the world, and is traditionally emotional ( carries out old customs of her family with all her heart and soul). And to cross all this, to say that she is heart-broken since she was 23yr old is an understatement. A Selfless daughter, sister, lover and mother ( to a beautiful & charming girl). She's brave, an intelligent woman, only to say that she is like anyone of us full of love and care. She has so much to give (sadly does not receive from certain important people). She is a dam of emotional hell ready to burst on anyone ( even Cal, for his own good though), especially when it comes to Cal ( & now after 6years since Cal left her, the only special person in her life is her daughter cami). Her "personal kryptonite" being Cal's superpower to flash a smile and crack jokes around.

She is taken aback when Cal shows up in front of her house one evening, only to shake and wake up her world & heart again after 6 years and to state that he wants to sell the house ( where they build their memories together, spent their childhood , even lost so many people they loved dearly in that very house). All she wants to do is tell him to never leave her again but she can not because of the very reason that he left her standing without answers, saying he was high on drugs to even feel anything they had that summer. She knows one thing that she will not sell the house and also will not let her heart betray her this time to go and fall back into his arms to be broken again… well little did she know right ..🙄🤣

She wants to open her bakery ( her and her mothers dream), send cami to the best school and travel the world. She has no other option to afford such dreams if she does not give up the house. She does agree to sell it later in the book. Cal promises her to go back to rehab and come to her, sober so that they can be a real family, the family she and cami deserves.

Again with Lana's character, we can see that she herself has her own demons. Since childhood she has been left alone by people ( first her father, then sister and Cal and eventually her mother), therefore she has major trust issues ( although their reason for leaving are very much agreeable from one point but she manages to attach them to herself not being sufficient enough for people. One of the reasons she is scared to let people in is her daughter cami, she does not want anyone to hurt her daughter by leveraging her relation to them, for which i am very proud of her to some extent.

Lana is a bit of a negative thinker, she manages to think the worst of all the things around her, especially when Cal does not show at her mother's funeral. It leads to her thinking he wants to avoid her and does not care for the situation ( well, he did not know anything about it till now) . She always feels disappointed for some reason, she feels that however hard she tries to make things right, to make people see their worth( Cal and her sister who are addicts) she never accomplishes her goal. Their actions are always pushing her to doubt herself more and more which also leads to the "not-good-enough" part. I like lana as a person, her aura is very refreshing, i find her very adorable at certain times. One of the scene where she goes on stress baking Nutella pies and cookies because she is confused and angry and misses Cal ( he went back to rehab but they had a fight before that), she also wears his hoodie for a whole week (which of course everyone in town notices. IT IS TOO ADORABLE).

*CAMI a.k.a CAMILA (5yr old): The youngest, sweetest and cutest member (yeah cutest coz literally her tongue would peek through a small gap from her still growing baby teeth in the front when she smiled…. 🤧🤭) of the dreamland family (until the newborns come in, in the epilogue guys). I would like to say very few words for the heroine of the book. She was a bombshell. She gives the warmest hugs. Her winks are the best, she is an incredibly smart kid. I also must include that she is a very good businesswoman (being so young) and cunning. She truly love loves her mommy and dad (Cal), & how can i even forget her Princess Marianna ( she will kill me in my sleep if i forget about her… duh!!)

To say that this was my favorite one of the three books will be betrayal to my liking towards marriage-of-convivence troupe. BUT But i think it is safe to say this IS the best one ( can not even compete) because of a little munchkin who love loves dreamland and her mommy. Also because there is some kind of magic in this book, i love how everyone comes together in this installation. There are so many highlights to this one. Wyatt's special bond with Cal, and Alana's friends ( Delilah & Violet as well as town members like Meg the bookstore lady and Isabelle the dinner lady) who supports her every day since she has been heart broken by Cal. There are two very special scenes of mine, one is when Cal breaks down, when flooded by old memories and remembers his failures while cleaning the attic ( this one was the most hurtful part). Second scene which has a lot of history behind it. Cal and Alana's dare bond, where they dare each other and other has to carry it out ( it is a childhood tradition). Pertaining to this very tradition we see a beautiful ending of Cal and Lana's story. Well, lets sum it up and say it was a beautiful book, which lets reader see into people's life and learn so much (life lessons, wrongs and rights).

Xoxo,

Ironically Witty!

[savagewildnerness]

I was going to comment, but I have too much to say, hahahaha, oh dear!

I found Sam's comment about violence interesting… I think Lestat is capable of extreme violence from a very particularly male place (that's why he can kill the wolves as a human, which most humans couldn't) but maybe Akasha senses this without sensing Lestat's innate empathy towards those he loves…. and really, towards all humanity. Which - why would she sense that - because Akasha never understood morality or empathy or sympathy much at all, even in her long, long ago life! She was always strangely, innately amoral and without empathy.

I think it's a fine line… like I think, when pushed Lestat's violence is utterly uncontrolled until his morality kicks in (his violence in response to Armand's mind-wash, then rape springs to mind... but even there, Lestat stops when pity kicks in... and sometimes Lestat's kills can be extreme... though usually in rather a complicated way.)

However, I *do* agree that if Lestat's violence comes specifically from a *toxic* male place, this is a misunderstanding of Lestat and Akasha. Because the tragedy of Queen of the Damned for Lestat is Akasha does see Lestat as a cipher to male violence and she uses him as such... and, as she entrances him, she *makes* him such in a. very real way due to what he does while with her.

First, he witnesses her violence, horrified! He would NEVER do this. Then, he does join in. And later he fights it and stops joining in, and he fights Akasha as best he can... but by then he has already killed more than he had in his entire vampiric existence to date, in incomprehensibly awful ways. And he enjoyed it. BUT he *was* still mind wiped and the tragedy and underlying despair that runs through books and books after this stems from the fact that Akasha made Lestat into something that he wasn't inherently! Yet, the actions were still his.

Lestat feels he can never atone for it. There is no possible redemption for him. All hope is lost. And it is something other vampires see has happened to him, but he cannot talk to them about it, beyond writing it in his books.

I mean, we haven't even touched on the fact that Akasha frames her whole genocide as a moral crusade, when she was always such an amoral being! Even thousands of years ago, in her brief mortal life.

But, for Lestat... there *is* a violence in him, yes: it's why Magnus chose him. It's what Lestat was before he had any desires; before he had any hope; without any thing that even made him himself, Lestat had violence. But I would call it a pureness of capacity for violence. Which is very distinct from a "toxic male" violence... which implies intent from negative and unreasonable reactionary violence.

I mean, it's hard to talk about. Sam knows Lestat well and I presume his talk in this area comes from conversations he must have had around the topic with Rolin and the writers regarding the fact that The Drop exists... but I do feel it needs to be very, very clear!

You need to feel by the end of The Queen of the Damned that Akasha has irrevocably damaged Lestat in a way he will never be able to truly recover from... because how could you...

And it's only from a place like that that you can get to The Tale of the Body Thief and Memnoch feeling right, as I see it.

I might reply to your post with thoughts on other stuff, but I apparently really wanted to address this. In reference to season 2 though, I want to address it, because I fully believe The Drop did happen now in show Universe. I don't like it. But I believe it. I do not think we will now see any Armand drop of Lestat. I do not think we are likely to see The Drop again (beyond, possibly a very brief vision of it, in a moment of Lestat's guilt or such, potentially, from his POV, but I doubt with significant difference - what difference can there be - it either happened or it didn't and if it happened it doesn't truly matter precisely how or why. It just happened and Lestat let it happen and didn't even catch Louis.)

Anyway, I dunno... what does everyone else think about Lestat and violence. Like, obviously all vampires are violent. In terms of killing humans, Lestat certainly doesn't always stick to killing the evildoer, but I don't find his kills particularly violent on the scheme of vampire-killing violence. Like some vampires enjoy ripping their victims to shreds, crushing their skulls... Lestat enjoys a sexy kill. He enjoys talking a gorgeous life into his own body and the ecstasy of the fulfilment of that blood within him as he also experiences all of his victim's life. I mean, it's death he's bringing... but he does it kind of in love. If you've gotta be killed by a vampire, seems nicer to me to know they adore your very essence as they take your life into them..?! Sorry... I'm thinking about Lestat killing that old lady at the start of TToTBT now and how very sexy it is, hahahahaha.... I've gone off topic, drastically! AHEM!!!!!!

But yeah...

I want to do a poll, but I'm not sure what the options would be... I don't think I can do one as I reblog anyway... I'll have a consider about Lestat and violence poll options. But I'm very curious to hear on this topic from others. I've (mainly) paused rereading books while S2 has been going on so none of this comes from my immediate rereading... but y'know... these are the literal themes of the Vampire Chronicles so I think it's fascinating to discuss them and to know exactly what we think!!

I think Akasha making Lestat a cipher to male violence isn't entirely without foundation, and yet it is entirely callous and the greatest damage done to Lestat... because there *is* a natural capacity for violence in Lestat, and that it is some inherently toxic and wrong part of himself is a huge fear of Lestat's. In fact, when Lestat watches some other vampires kill, even those he loved deeply in life and sees how cruelly and like beasts with no thought, no consideration of victim and no love - how inhumanely they do it, he is repulsed by that...

I'd better stop or I'll write on this topic all night long, hahahahahaha!

But ETA: for clarification.

Akasha defines toxic male violence as an inherent seeking of power and to murder to the detriment of humanity. She defines it as something not within women (LOL - as she literally commits it herself!) Lestat *IS* violent, but he isn't violent with intent to seek power or to dominate others in that *toxic male* way, at least as I see it... I still haven't quite articulated it as I mean to. It's hard to put into words.

IWTV s2... an (emotional) recap

Between the spoilers dropping before the last three episodes and the content of the episodes themselves we really have gone through the emotional wringer.

I think I have rewritten this three times over, because my feelings kept changing.

I had hoped for more, I got more than I wished for, I wanted something else, they hit the nerve precisely...

And now with the season 3 announcement:))))

Maximum emotional carnage - indeed.

Everything ... up to that NOLA visit in episode 8 and the actual ending... is not the truth. Let that sink in.

The trial: scripted (and Lestat breaking out of it for the important bits)

Claudia's turning: So much... more raw.

Claudia's death: brutal. That final look between her and Lestat was one of the most painful things to witness.

Her diaries (pages): mostly unused. I am a bit unnerved bc of that wasted Merrick reveal and aftermath implementation tbh. Louis is not freed up after it, but... he should have been, imho. Though, that said, with Dubai likely a stand-in for Trinity Gate... maybe the arc fits after all - BUT I still think they could have done more with her diaries. I get why they wanted to escape the “white savior trap“ but this way Louis did not get that power-up that will ultimately bring him to where it frees him. But who knows... maybe they will implement a version of it all still.

The broadcasting and Loustat's relationship in general: Armand putting a fantasy retelling into Louis' brain. Holy shit.

Flashbacks to 1790: Self-indulgent fanfiction.

Dubai: Stepford Wives via mind gift. 💀

Daniel: Supposedly(*) turned out of spite. I absolutely get why DM fans are besides themselves with this and the comments after.

The story itself: More or less ending exactly where the first book puts us. I do NOT know why they kept that title a secret, it's not hinting at anything other than that simple fact, imho. :)

So.

You know, them using the movie "Gaslight" for the poster reference makes more and more sense now, because that is how I feel a bit at least: gaslit. Just a little bit.

Because... Nice reunion that you had there... too bad it will turn out to be the contested NOLA one, I would bet real money on it. 😅

......

Sarcasm aside, this is a brilliant show. But I am NOT looking forward to another two years of bullshit accusations (by some) because they were mostly/only spelled things out in the episode insiders, and only broke things up in the last episode. Or of people confusing the meta and social commentary level with the in-universe one.

Which, by the way, I'm happy that they went there. And I am relieved that they spelled things out in the episode insiders. Truly. But as experience has shown after season ONE... implied manipulations, episode insiders and interviews, and cast/crew/writer statements don't mean jack shit to some people.

So yeah, where does this leave us?

This was a dark season. I think I'm not totally wrong when I say that most of us did not get what we wanted from it, neither DM, nor Loumand, nor Loustat. Or Claudeleine.

"Locked together in hatred" comes to mind, though "hatred" is obviously (way) too strong a word. (But that quote fits so nicely 😏🤓)

We DID get some of what we wanted. But for a show which built so heavily on other books... to follow the first book then so closely?? I don't know, it leaves me a bit unsatisfied(**). It feels as if they just shut the book, to be done with it, you know?

I still enjoyed the season, there were brilliant parts in it. But it feels... bloodless. Sexless. Empty of affection. Harrowing. Which is, of course, the point.

This... is a depressing, hinting at suicide-through-vampires note.

Which won't happen, of course.

Because here we get to (**), which is of course ™️ them announcing s3 just prior to the last episode;))) And thereby making some things clear by that fact alone :)) 🙌🙌🙌

I said it before, I expect them to revisit... again. Given that this will be in what, 1,5 to 2 years from now? Well. Hopefully still in 2025. And I hope the arc they spun over these three seasons will be done then. And we can move forward.

I do hope this show will get 10 seasons. But for the first time since it aired I wished we'd already be ahead, in season 4 or something. 😅 Because this heap of loose endings is... taxing^^. Though definitely coming very softened as a blow now with the s3 renewal that’s for sure^^

Can't wait to hear your thoughts, if you want to share them. But these are mine. For now.

I'm sure there will be a lot of details, and analysis and meta to follow, and I'm looking forward to it. 🥰🙌

S1 and s2 were a tale... I mean we knew. But I would have preferred a bit more... truth.^^

Because that Magnus‘ tower scene?! No way. The metaphorical push off the tower??? No way, sorry Rolin but if they let that stay… that’s not giving agency that’s removing Lestat‘s suffering for their weird “toxic masculinity arc“ that Sam hinted at and which was - IN THE BOOK!!! - a misjudgment of Akasha.

AND it is removing Lestat‘s suffering to give more nuance to other characters. -.-

Given Hannah‘s episode 5 comments I hope they do not make a misjudgment of his character there. The red flags are there though, especially after the recent interviews, have been ever since that DV drop, and I have people come to me via DMs now to tell me they’re leaving the fandom bc they’re scared of another GoT…. which I get.

I… still have some faith. I know Rolin tends to put his foot into his mouth at times, he is a troll, and for all her takes on ep5 Hannah also wrote other brilliant scenes.

And we have Sam and Jacob as trump cards.

I‘m determined to enjoy this - this is what we‘ll get. I waited 30 years. I won’t go anywhere. I will enjoy what they give us.

I won‘t like all their decisions. That I am aware of.

BUT I will enjoy it, going in open-eyed, nonetheless.

(*) okay that is obviously bullshit, Armand would not turn him out of spite. Which is another hint I guess. But I talked about that in asks^^ At length 😅

[aninklingof]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

This is a ficlet inspired by this ask from @covenofwives , specifically the bit about XD being weak to nibbles but never having experienced them.

Lee! DreamXD Ler! George

Warnings: XD has 4 arms ✨Supremely platonic!✨

~~~~~

“Nohoho Ehehex dehee nohohOT THAHAHAT—!” George screamed as the blonde deity ducked their head down to his stomach and began gently nibbling the soft skin there.

“Oh come on now Georgie, it can’t be that bad,” XD muttered into the mortal’s skin as he stopped thrashing and accepted the intense waves of ticklish energy wracking his body. XD stopped when this happened, rubbing one of their many hands over the brunette’s tummy soothingly.

“Ihihit— it reheally is that bahad,” George responded breathlessly.

“Is it?” The taller figure questioned. “It’s never been done to me before.”

Suddenly George was fully recovered, his mismatched eyes full of glee. “Do you want to try it?”

XD hesitated. They thought back on all the times they’d given nibbles to George and Dream. They’d both reacted harshly, hysterically laughing their heads off and struggling like their lives depended on it. XD tried to imagine tickles that intense, but they couldn’t quite grasp an idea of what it might feel like.

Regardless, they nodded and George’s smile stretched wider. XD laid on the ground, their flowing green cloak fading away like magic and leaving them in only a tight black top. The brunette straddled their thighs, hovering quite menacingly over the god.

“Do you want a safe word?” George asked, the question backed by sincerity.

“Will I need one?” XD countered.

“Maybe.”

XD resisted the shiver that ran down their spine. “Red.”

“Alright. Now, where to start?” George began, his eyes studying XD’s body and causing the latter to grow nervous under his gaze. “We could always start simple with your belly, or I could go for your ribs or your sides— all are great options. What do you think, XD?”

XD’s cheeks and ears flushed red at the teasing, jumping slightly when they were called upon. “….b-behelly?”

George smirked and started to slowly lower himself to XD’s torso. The deity tried not to squirm as they watched the brunette grow closer and closer to their belly. He stopped just above XD, making sure his breath ghosted on their skin, just to rile them up a little more before finally making contact.

XD screeched. “OHOHOH MY GOHOHOHOHOD! IHIHIHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAHAD!!” George felt two hands on his head and two on his shoulders, not pushing but simply resting there while XD cackled wildly.

“Oh come on XD, it can’t be that bad~” the mortal teased, repeating the same words XD themself had said while wrecking George the exact same way not even five minutes earlier.

“GEHEHEHEOHOHOHORGE PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES SO BAHAHAHA—!” XD cut themself off with another shriek when George moved the unbearably ticklish nibbles to the deity’s side.

“It tickles so much, doesn’t it Ex? Who would’ve known?~”

XD’s face heated up at the brunette’s coos and their heels dug at the dirt to help release the shocks that overwhelmed their system.

It proved to truly be overwhelming, since not even a minute in XD cried, “REHEHED!!” George immediately stopped, looking down and admiring the absolute mess he’d made of the god beneath him.

“You barely lasted longer than thirty seconds!” He laughed.

“Thahahat….. was tohohorture!” The blonde exclaimed through gasping breaths and residual laughter.

“Was it? I wonder who could’ve told you that!”

XD looked exasperatedly at George who smugly grinned back at them. “Alright, I get it. I understand now. I’ll be nicer when I give you and Dream nibbles from now on. Because dear god….”

“Mhm, yeah you will. And if you ever forget what nibbles feel like, I won’t be afraid to remind you,” the mortal flashed XD a teasing, toothy smile as a solid reminder of what George was capable of.

Despite this ticklish discovery, XD never did stop giving the two mortals nibbles. In fact, the days following the incident there seemed to be an influx of nibble-tickles from the god.

George would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

~~~~~

[yautjaamongmen]

Finale

The part 3 a few have requested! There are two endings, so just be aware! 

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Storming a government base to recover an alien you’ve grown attached to is not something you ever fully expected to happen to you just a few years ago. Even less so with a group of others of these aliens on your side. They were near silent, had you a little terrified despite knowing they are on your side...for the moment.

Going through the base was difficult and you could feel a shiver going up your spine at every little noise. You were surprised at just how good they are at evading everything, but eventually it has to come to an end. That end meant watching one of them throw a spear through ones chest that had spotted them and began to shoot. Alarms began to blare and yells could be heard. You began to ran, your heart pumping, the large aliens not reacting other then clicks and growls as they spoke to each other.

The place was huge and seemed to grow in size with every step. Every man murdered made your heart drop, from exploded chest to someone getting caught in a net and the strings digging deep into their skin. Their screams rang in your ears as you kept running, reminding yourself what you were fighting to get to avoid fully breaking down. You could even hear the begging before gurgling screams at the next moment. You don’t know what you were meant to do, to help them, were you doing the right thing? You had to be, you can’t give up now.

You wished this was a dream. It was just a month ago, sleeping in your large bed with your love, the purr so audible as you pressed your ear against his chest, knowing you wanted to be no where but there. The way you get held so tightly in his arms, yet to him he’s being so soft and careful, always worried what he may do to you should he be too rough.

Then there were the nights you’d listen to him talk of his hunts, and what the universe looks like beyond the earth. He had hundreds of stories to tell, and how he’d puff up his chest in pride as he talked about what he hunted and showed you the new scars. The small skulls that adorned his jewelry were so beautiful to you, just how clean and nice they were.

Even before that, when he had just began to court you. You didn’t understand what these small gifts were, bones and skulls, but you still accepted it gratefully. Eventually he truly explained, and you agreed completely to be his mate. There was no hesitance, no regret, only a deep love for him. 

And you did this.

Eventually you got to the room. They gave you the small device to unlatch the room, and as you went in you saw something that made your heart drop.

There was the love of you life, naked and suspended in the air by his wrists, legs bound, injured and barely breathing. He opened his eyes and growled low at the sight of you, his eyes burning with a new hatred you never imagined would be targeted at you. You used the device and let it work, and watched as he was let go with a loud SLAM against the ground, you rushed in to help, and as he tried pushing himself up growling when you got too close...

You watched as someone came behind him through the other door with a raised gun. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, didn’t want to do anything else. You rushed past him, and with a bang you felt overwhelming pain. You fell to the ground, limp, and in your last moments you heard your yautja screech before the screams of the man that tricked you. Your yautja will hang over you and mourn, before they destroy the station so this information may never get out, your body left to be destroyed with it, a yautjas death. Your yautja will live for centuries more, but you will never truly leave him, not until his last breath.

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I know that may not be an ending many like, so here is a Good End,

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You threw yourself in the way of the bullet and felt it pierce through you. Falling to the ground you pressed your hand over the wound, in more pain then you could’ve ever imagined. You looked up to see your yautja screeching and tearing the man apart, before your vision get funny, then go black

Eventually you awoke, alive, well. Your wounds had been healed with alien technology, making it so it was nearly cured in a shocking amount of time. You don’t know how long it had been, but you recognized the yautja ship you were in, and looked over to see your mate sitting near and working. In that moment you knew you made a good choice.

You wouldn’t be able to go back to earth. It was too dangerous, and the clan wouldn’t allow you to stay alive and on earth. For the rest of your shortened life you would go across the galaxy with your yautja, spending that time to make up for what you’ve done. He will love you till the end of his days despite it all. 

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I hope this gives everyone the ending they want! Thanks for so much support!

[magnifiico]

Queen Amaya was always the portrait of sensibility and grace. While Magnifico was reckless and impulsive, Amaya was steady and thoughtful. While Magnifico let his emotions so often get the best of him, consuming all reason in an unforgiving storm, Amaya was there to gently but firmly step into the thick of it, take his hands, and pull him back out. She had been, from the very start, a quiet strength at his side: more potent and powerful than she ever gave herself credit for.

Again, this was one of those moments. Again, Magnifico felt himself losing it—no different than he lost those threads of control when the book’s writings seeped into his mind and body, snagged every dark and terrible thought lingering beneath the surface and yanked it into the spotlight. Again, he heard Amaya’s voice in his head telling him to breathe. He wanted to listen. He wanted relief. He wanted all of these sick, twisted things inside of him to dissolve just by the sound of her voice, her presence—

But it wasn’t meant to be.

For the soothing voice in his memories would never compare to the shrill, uncharacteristically devastated tone cutting through the air like a razor sharp blade here and now. No, nothing would compare to the way Magnifico watched his queen break right in front of his eyes, and nothing would compare to how he knew he had broken right there with her.

So peculiar, this . . . how it could be so foreign but familiar at the same time. His queen so rarely lost any ounce of her composure; certainly, Magnifico had learned so much from her, all in the realm of keeping his chin up and pushing forward through any disaster or hardship. The last time he’d ever seen her in pieces—heartwrenching pieces—seemed like ages ago. . . . A time from which neither of them would ever fully recover. But a time where they had each other for strength.

What could either of them do now that they didn’t . . . ?

Even more peculiarly, Magnifico hardly even picked up on her words, on anything she said. His mind unconsciously filed it all away, a reminder to pursue later when this storm of emotions they had created wasn’t destroying everything else. It was all he could do to simply stand there and listen when he wanted nothing more than for that infernal distance between them to be gone; it was his turn to take her hands, lead her back, make things right. But Magnifico didn’t even make a move to remind himself of the mirror separating them. Truly, he wasn’t actually all that sure he could move. Everything in him suddenly felt frozen.

Now, he wasn’t breathing. His heart caught in his throat. And the scowl on his lips loosened enough that the corners quaked.

“I-I . . . ” Magnifico set his jaw, forced his fingers to flex at his sides to remind himself he was still here and alive. “At the time, I thought—” He blinked rapidly and squinted at an indiscernible point in the distance, beyond his queen looking at him with all the feelings he couldn’t take being directed his way. “I decided the book was our only guarantee against . . . ”

You were the only threat to our kingdom!

When he finally exhaled, it practically rattled out of his chest.

“I knew the risks of using that magic, but whatever it happened to do to me, I’d imagined it would be worth it for Rosas’s safety, and yet I . . . ” Irritated now by his own spotty recollection, Magnifico shook his head and clenched a fist. “Everything that happened isn’t quite as clear as I had hoped. Amaya, I—” Now, here was the inquiry he feared most. Here was the subject he’d wanted to avoid from the moment he heard her steps echoing down the stairs. But the more he’d thought about it, the more he couldn’t help feeling . . .

“I hurt you,” he confirmed, voice thin at the horrible resolve. “In more than one way. I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Before, she had never needed to feign steadiness in front of him. Magnifico was her strength, her safe haven from any storm.

Now he was the storm. Amaya didn't know what to think, what to believe; but she did know what was right. She clung to that lifeline like a frightened child clutched their guardian's hand. The only thing keeping her tethered amid the maelstrom.

"We agreed to keep the book so that it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. We agreed that forbidden magic was never the answer." But her voice shriveled the instant he attempted to justify his horrible deeds. She stumbled a step back as if she'd been struck.

"'What needed to be done'?" she repeated, the words acidic on her tongue. Her heart revolted so violently that her rib cage felt battered black-and-blue. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Once stoic features cracked open, bearing glimpses of the raw horror underneath.

"You were the only threat to our kingdom!" That rift ruptured deeper: fracturing Amaya's voice along with her composure. Aftershocks echoed through her frame, and she fisted her hands at her sides to keep from shaking apart. "Y-you—you turned your magic against your own people. You shattered their wishes, harmed innocents—you would have enslaved us all if Asha hadn't rallied the citizens against you!"

The memories of that day had joined the others that would not fade. Before, when such visions stole her smile and sleep alike, Amaya could turn her thoughts to her beloved. But now, even memories of love and comfort were as corrupt as the cursed book itself. The contempt in Magnifico's eyes as he'd accused her of being a traitor still felt like a knife in her chest. His manic laughter as he'd brought Rosas to its knees still echoed in the deepest parts of her.

In perhaps the cruelest irony of all, as she looked at him now, Amaya found herself desperately wishing. Every beat of her trembling, terrified heart begged that he would grant her wish as he always had, day after day, for all these years. He'd never needed magic. No fanfare or grandiose displays.

All she wanted was him.

A man who fulfilled her heart's every desire with his kindness, his brilliance, his generosity and love. A man who would never do anything to hurt his kingdom or his people. A man who she still loved with every ounce of herself.

Don't let him be gone. The corrupted reflection couldn't be all that was left. She would do anything. Anything, just—

Please...give him back.

It was a visible struggle to find her voice again, to force it out on an unsteady tremor. "You nearly brought Rosas to ruin. How can you possibly say that any of that was justified?"