#i have to share him with mara and she hates my guts

[je-suis-problematique]

It's hilarious how I lowkey judged Chris for dating Raphael when my love life can be summarized as "area man obsesses over past situationship, gets so pissed he thinks he's finally over it, then goes straight back to the same person when they remember he exists again and use the right words when speaking to him". Like FRFR that's exactly how it went. Astarion nearly killed me the next day. :")

– Vesemir

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I’ve changed my views about the jedi after reading analyses like yours, but now i’m stuck with cognitive dissonance because i love luke and mara’s relationship ans that he allowed marriage, but if the jedi’s reasons for banning marriage were correct, doesn’t that make eu luke wrong?

I've got to admit I haven't read anything with Mara, just skimmed some wiki pages. My area is the PT. That said, that just makes EU Luke a character written with different rules in mind, so to speak. Mara dates from before TPM, before it was properly established that Jedi don’t marry, even if that’s what Lucas always intended, and so their being together was not breaking any rules in the books themselves.

It's perfectly fine to enjoy the EU! It's got great stories! And if that helps, it can easily be viewed as a kind of alternate reality to what we ended getting onscreen.

The reasons the Jedi had for 'banning' marriage - and I'm not even sure it can quite be called that - were largely dependent on context: they didn't forbid romantic feelings, and from what we see they were even pretty lenient towards actual relationships. I kinda went over it here with Kanan and Hera's couple, but imo the question of marriage is first and foremost a question of commitment. Jedi are essentially already married to the Order, and it's not fair on a spouse nor is it fair to the other Jedi to divide one's duties and heart like that. But the issue wouldn't exist if there is no Order to speak of to be married to, and commitment would also be less of a problem if the two spouses both are Jedi dedicating their lives to a common goal - so in that sense, I don't think Luke and Mara's relationship is unthinkable even if the Prequels-era Jedi had very good reasons not to marry. Different situations means different ways of dealing with things. Of course, that wouldn't make Luke's new Order 'better' - just different.

There's still the issue of attachment, of course, and the EU is not always the greatest at knowing what that means. From what I know of Luke's EU family, they had their fair share of problems with that, but of course attachment is not about whether or not a relationship is committed and/or romantic, it's much deeper. Avoiding attachment is not about avoiding love, it's about learning to let go, out of love.

Now, it might very well be that Luke was written as acting out of fear of loss, possessiveness, or any of the other pitfalls of attachment in the books featuring Mara (as I said, haven't read them) and in that case, yeah, he might have been wrong. But I don't think the books meant for him to be wrong to marry, and so in those books he wasn't.

The cognitive dissonance comes from trying to reconcile stories with different authors who had different visions as one unified coherent narrative, and that's a headache waiting to happen. Just pick and choose what you're happy with. Lucas' Jedi had very good reasons for not marrying, and the EU writers' Luke just wasn't in the same context, or indeed in quite the same universe. Nbd!

I still have beef with the EU writers and I much, much, much prefer for the Jedi to be celibates when exploring their characters (so they can stand on their own and we can know their hearts, so we get some good romance-free storytelling for once, because I have views on relationships very much influenced by my own faith and the Jedi's take on those really resonate with me, etc) but there's no reason you can't enjoy both!

(Unless it's Karen Traviss' EU books lmao. She just hates the Jedi's guts.)

[furiosophie]

DINLUKE F1 AU

ok so I had this in my notes for fucking ages so fuck it here we go

inspired by @ehi7backup incredible art [look at it here]

TW: Luke lost his hand in a crash, Luke has ptsd Luke is the new hotshot star driver for Ferrari, Anakin was the best F1 pilot the world has ever seen, but after a horrid crash, he had to stop. Now his kids step up, Luke as driver and Leia as team principal (tho ppl say she could have surpassed Luke as a driver). Wedge is his co-pilot or Mara idk.

Luke's first season was incredible but he got into a horrible crash and lost his hand and now everyone is very skeptical if he can make his comeback this season. The team is under pressure anyways bc ppl say there is a curse on them since Anakin also had a horrid crash, you know Skywalker fuckery.

Din drives for Red Bull, tho they are referred to by some as the death watch, drawing suspicions with their weird training regiments. The Armorer is the team principal and Boba is Din's copilot. Din never takes his helmet off, mostly bc he rly just got into racing bc it's the only thing he was ever good at and he just wants to care for his kid and be left alone.

Bo-Katan is on Toro Rosso, and fucking hates Din's guts bc she used to drive for Red Bull but got knocked down to Toro Rosso last season so Din could have her spot (Din is oblivious to that rivalry). Koska is her copilot. Satine is the team principal and she and Bo never see eye to eye. Also, Satine has a weird history with that old dude that hangs around Ferrari all the time it's Obi-Wan.

Han and Chewie are in one of those weird teams that keep changing their sponsor and team name all the time so they are just known by the name Han lovingly gave his car, the Millennium Falcon. Lando is somehow their team principal even though no one knows where the heck he came from.

Then there is Mercedes with Gideon as team principal and Maul and ikd Ventress or someone as their drivers (nothing against Mercedes it just has to be one of the top teams u know for the drama).

Palpatine is the slimy old dude that has some shady money and hangs around like a menacing presence. He keeps trying to recruit Luke for one thing or the other and Anakin fucking hates his guts.

Cobb and Fennec are Ferraris and Red Bulls head mechanics respectively and always share the hot gossip. Obi-Wan, who blames himself for Anakin's accident, floats around like a weird ghost and occasionally offers strange advice. There is also Ashoka who was one of the most promising drivers and used to drive with Anakin but then shit happened and she noped out.

ANYWAYS Luke has always been curious about the gruff Red Bull driver who never takes his helmet off and they have a lot of run-ins, where ppl tell Luke to stay away but he's just so intrigued. And then one night he exists his trailer and wants to get away from the attention for one night bc he's already fighting a panic attack and runs into Din with Grogu on his arm who is fleeing as well. And Luke, bless him, does not connect the fact that Din and the mysterious driver are the same person, he just sees a hot dad and is head over heels.

And Din is nice and he is gentle and funny and knows how to talk Luke out of a panic attack and it becomes somewhat of a habit for them to meet up after races and they low-key start to date all while Luke has no clue who Din is bc he only ever introduced himself as Din, but on the track they are all called by their last name so---

Well you guessed it, Luke's season is actually going fucking great, so he and Din end up being pegged as rivals and it's blown up real big and Luke doesn't mind bc it's all in good fun, but what he does mind is that Djarin is suddenly always a bit too close to him when they are standing in line to be weight? Or their hands will brush when they pass each other in the hallway?? And he'll always somehow magically be around when Luke is about to have a panic attack and he does this thing where he leans their helmets together when Luke is freaking out and look it's all rly nice and lovely and he appreciates it so much, but also he has this rly nice thing going with Din and ppl are starting to talk and he doesn't want Din to think he is dating someone else but also he's getting kinda attached to Djarin and his rly soothing voice and oh gosh

But yea anyways there are so many possibilities like

it was actually Din who pulled Luke out of the wreck when he had his accident, Luke doesn't remember bc he was out cold

news articles and tweets and stuff that talk about Skywalker's and Djarin's rivalry that eventually morph into talking about them having a secret affair

Leia telling Luke over coms to come in for a tire change and Luke absolutely refusing bc Djarin is hot on his heels and he can't lose to him while Din is watching the race

Din telling Luke he can always call him and he'll always be there, except during races and Luke is high-key sad about that bc he would love to talk to Din before the race bc he's anxious but he respects Din's boundaries etc. BUT THE REASON DIN IS UNAVAILABLE IS BC HE'S IN THE DAMN RACE

eventual shit going down when they discover that Palp is cheating or some shit

Leia absolutely losing it when she finds out Luke thinks Din and Djarin are two different people

Han

[cescalr]

6 & 7 for the fanfic questions pls?

Oh boy, these will be long ones. Buckle in, boys, I'm on mobile and cant cut.

(I'm just gonna do active ones or we might be here forever, also ignoring ones I dont have OTPs for like KTTK and ones I forget entirely like TBOB)

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Teen Wolf - Stalia (I am ANGRY forever, dunno if the ending changed me to being a Malira-Steo first-place-shared OTP situation or not, haven't decided, I'm. Stubborn and easily attached to things)

Harry Potter - Ronarry/Harron

Buffy/ATS - uhhhh help Spike/Buffy/Faith and Fred/Wesley it's two shows!!! I can put two ships!!! (Also yes I Know spuffy is difficult, Seeing Red was a horrendous episode and I hate it, and yes I know faith has done a lot of bad things, I do not need to be told these things i watched the same shows you did)

Riordanverse - hhhnnn uhh Percabeth?? I guess??? Look I need to reread these like Yesterday... I Dont Recall

,,, ok this is actually like a Really Long List but for some reason??? I've forgotten like half of them

OH shep/joker from Mass Effect uhuh yepperoni still mad you cant romance him put it in the remaster!!! You cowards!!! Also fix the lack of good love interests for fem!shep just. As a whole thanks, thinking about what Jacob did still hurts me to this day,,, do remember I was born in 2001 akfjlajdls I should probably have not been playing ME... Oh Well

Uhhh HOA I'm a basic bitch Fabina all the way bro

H2O Zikki was done DIRTY

GMW Lucaya, y'know, I'm predictable, it's always gotta be the ones with Hidden Depths for me guys, and what I mean is Maya and Lucas were FAR more interesting than Riley and the others I said what I said

Theres just. Too many. Let's continue

YES I know Seddie was iffy in canon,,,, no my heart does not care, also with some halfway decent therapy it would have been pretty good for both of them,,, literal case of right people wrong time and place

Jori's pretty cool but consider: Jandre, let beck and tori be vaguely ??? together while the good characters with Hidden Depths hang out

LOOK I am predictable and i care lots about Disa, Dean/Lisa, supernatural is killing me slowly I'm part way through season six, I cant wait to be crushed further, j hate it, I know what happens and the anticipation is pain, can dean not be happy??? Whith his family??? Can he not?????????

UM Santa clarita diet??? Obviously Joel and sheila are wonderful

Nobody wants to know my yogsmc ships and I'm not divulging them here bc frankly I dont want to get mistaken for an RPF chick, I am NOT that thank you, what they are is probably pretty obvious from my blog,,,, alright fine I'm a Zoethian bitch, block game made me cry 'I miss you I need you I love you' my heART

Uhhhh

Uhhhhhhh

People are gonna kill me for my Oxenfree one huh... if only I could say it was Alex/Nona,,, it's not, but it's a close second

Same for 13 reasons why,,,, not that I like the show or anything its god awful but idk the characters arent the awful plot you know, and besides I only ever saw like two??? Tbree?? Episodes??? Its Clustin please dont stab me in tbe gut Zalex has my whole heart too dont worry

Uhhhhhhhhhh

Uhhhhh

God I'm bad at this

Theres so many more but I just dont remember them uhhh

oH yeah as previously stated; basic bitch, Warden/Alistair in DA:O

Um.

Ummmm.

Yeah ok that's kind of it at least for this morning (oh boy, 2 am sldjldkakflhs)

HEY throwback time (not that this list hasn't been mostly throwbacks for me lol) uhhh Etharah from My Babysitter's a Vamipre yeah that was good

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

This is a shorter list. Please do not kill me.

Sterek

Drarry

Destiel

The most obvious and least contreversial: anything with Bryce Walker in it

Creddie

Rucas

Shep/Garrus, please just let them be bros

Bangel or Willara (cries) because A) he was a 26 year old man who was also 100s of years old and she was 15/16/he turned into angelus on her 17th birthday I THINK and that sucks but anyway the point being: statutory rape/ephebophilia = no fun and B) Willow Was Scary please leave Tara's head alone shes suffered enough listen! To! Her! Song!! she didnt need you abusing her trust miss Rosenberg I will fight you on her behalf-

Anyway!

Benthan I'm just here, not shipping all the most popular ships out of sheer coincidence

Idk what else... guess that's it then OH HOA mara/Fabian was Dumb as all get out yeah that's it

Thanks!! And I hope that the fact I'm not a huge fan of Sterek isnt gonna be a problem >-< can't exactly be helped. :) ♡ Thanks again!!

[jeserai]

1 and 8 on the sentence starters prompt list (:

1. “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.”8. “I think you just might be my soulmate.”

One of her eyes is hazel, and the other is blue. Her hair is brown, and she has freckles across the bridge of her nose, and maybe Adora is biased, but this girl is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen.

1. “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.”

Like always, the first ride Catra and Adora get on when they get to the carnival is the cat and mouse coaster; it’s their least favorite ride—Catra’s because Adora always teases her about the name, and Adora’s because it makes her head hurt—but they’ve long since agreed that they have to ride every single ride, including the cat and mouse and the ferris wheel. (The ferris wheel has been declared the most boring, but it’s not as bad when they sneak snacks onto it to eat at the end of the night. Besides, Catra likes to make the cart swing just for the way Adora shrieks.)

After the cat and mouse ride, Catra leads Adora to the first empty bench she sees, and as Adora sits, clutching at her head, Catra runs to get them their first round of snacks to share as they walk: a huge bag of popcorn and the biggest, sweetest looking smoothie she can find. By the time she gets back, Adora is more or less ready to go, and she smiles wide when she sees Catra approaching, showing off the gap from her freshly lost tooth.

The first thing that’s different about this year is that this is the first year they’ve managed to convince their parents that they’re old enough to go alone. And sure, Adora’s big cousin Mara is somewhere on the other side of the park with her friends, just a phone call away if they need—which they won’t—but there are no parents. Catra just knows they’re going to brag to everyone else on Monday at school.

The second thing that’s different about this year is that there are so many people. There’s usually a fair amount of people, especially on opening night, but even following their usual route leaves them stuck waiting in lines for far longer than usual.

Which brings them to the third thing that’s different about this year: Adora freezes and grips Catra’s hand tight as they pass by the tilt-a-whirl. Her eyes are wide and practically sparkling as she looks at something past Catra, and when she turns around, she sees a brand new ride: a haunted house.

“Catra,” Adora breathes, “what is that?”

And Catra, who absolutely detests horror just as much as she knows Adora does, turns to her friend with a frown. “No. You hate horror!”

“I hate horror movies,” Adora corrects, “I like haunted houses. And really, I don’t even mind horror—” Catra snorts, and Adora elbows her immediately, “I just hate all of the blood and guts stuff.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Adora—” Adora elbows her again, and Catra manages to glare at her for a good three seconds before they collapse into giggles.

And when their laughter subsides, Adora nudges Catra, the touch just as gentle as her smile when Catra glances at her. “Come on, Cat. Go with me?”

Catra looks from Adora to the haunted house and back, and lets out the heaviest sigh she can muster. “Fine, but only as long as you hold my hand.”

Adora pointedly looks at their already joined hands and then begins to tug Catra towards the line for the haunted house, promising her full control of the go-karts as thanks.

(And in the end, Adora screams three times and decides she hates all haunted houses. Catra, on the other hand, decides that she quite likes it, and makes it a point to suggest that they go to another haunted house for Halloween. Adora groans and shakes her head, but sits down to plan how to convince their parents all the same.) 

8. “I think you just might be my soulmate.”

The world has been black and white for as long as Adora can remember, but she’s long since come to terms with it by now. She really, really doesn’t mind: sure, it can be annoying, but it’s not the end of the world. The only time it really bothers her is when she’s with her friends, who have pretty much all found their pairs. There’s Glimmer and Bow, who have been paired since they met as toddlers and grew up in a world of color, Spinerella and Netossa, who met and were paired recently, and then the odd grouping of Sea Hawk, Mermista, Perfuma, and Entrapta. Mermista and Sea Hawk had been paired for years, but Adora was there when Mermista looked up at the barista behind the counter, saw the look on her face change from neutral to shock. That was when she realized she’d only been seeing the world in half-color, that she had two soulmates. The barista, Perfuma, looked just as surprised, and Adora didn’t realize why until she said that she already had a girlfriend named Entrapta.

Somehow, they’ve managed to make it work, and Adora is genuinely happy for them, and for all of her friends. She just…wants that too. She wants color, and she wants to be able to know that there is someone that shares part of her soul. But she’s not lonely; she has her friends, and her family, and her fencing teammates, and the cutest dog ever. She’s far from lonely.

(It just sucks, being set up on blind dates by her friends and having to report back time and time again that it didn’t work out, that they saw no color. Because people always pull back when they lock eyes and see only the same black and white; who wants to get involved with someone and them not be the person destined for you?)

Adora gives up on the dates pretty quickly. Until—

She’s running late, supposed to have met up with Bow twenty minutes ago to help him pick out a good present for Glimmer’s birthday, and she got out of work late, and even though Bow won’t mind waiting, she still feels awful. There’s traffic too because of rush hour, and when Adora finally makes it to the mall, she almost sobs with relief as she spots a parking spot almost right away. Adora’s staring at her phone as she speed-walks to the door, trying to text Bow to see where he is, and everything is going well, until—

She crashes into someone without warning and they both fall to the ground. The girl she ran into curses and Adora hopes to god that her phone is okay as she scrambles up, brushing her jeans off as she splutters out apologies. “I am so, so sorry,” she says, and she holds out a hand as the girl looks up, and—

One of her eyes is hazel, and the other is blue. Her hair is brown, and she has freckles across the bridge of her nose, and maybe Adora is biased, but this girl is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. She tries to apologize again, but all that comes out is a dazed little, “I think you just might be my soulmate.”

The girl rolls her eyes as she scoffs, but the corners of her lips twitch up into an amused grin as she takes Adora’s outstretched hand and lets herself be pulled up. And she doesn’t let go.

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach Chapter 31

After Eric and Steven reminded Negan of just how much they took mine and Trey’s safety, emotional or physical, Negan told us that there were a second set of rooms down the hall from the ones he called home.  Shooting me an almost abashed glance, he mentioned that they were furnished with more of OUR furniture.  

“At least they don’t have my underwear in glass cases with flowers and candles,” I muttered, feeling at loose ends since Trey had taken to Negan’s arms and lap faster than he’d ever taken to a stranger in his entire short life.  I watched as MY son bounced happily on Coach’s jean clad leg, grinning at me like the silly toddler he was.  

“Speaking of shrines,” Eric offered, rushing over to the boxes, bags, and totes that Negan’s people had brought up for us.  I raised an eyebrow when Negan’s eyes met mine.  I had no fucking clue what Queen Eric had in store.  “AH HA,” he sounded triumphant and a glance at Steven showed me that he was looking at his lap in bemusement.  “THIS, bitch, is shrine worthy, NOT whatever nasty bits and bobs Coach has stored under lock and key.”  And in his hands, catching the fluorescent lights overhead, and shocking the living shit out of me because I hadn’t seen him sprint it along with us on our mad dash from Negan and my home, was the fucking frame he’d given me for graduation.  “Where should I put it?”

After dinner which Negan had brought up for the five of us, and a LONG conversation about that frame, Negan took Trey and his uncles to show them their rooms.  I started after them, but he stopped me.

“Amara, why don’t you take a hot bath?”  I stared at him, sure that he’d lost his damn mind.  “I’ll be right back.”  I watched him rock Trey lightly in his arms and once more kiss his soft curls like he’d been doing it forever.  

“You BOTH had better be right back,” I smiled at my little boy, whose dark eyes were locked on mine, even as he giggled at the bouncing of his new best friend.  “He’s only had one night out of my sight, Negan, I won’t make it two.”

Eric rolled his eyes.  “She acts like we don’t know which end his damn diaper goes on, but WHO fucking cleans up his vomit?”  I gagged a little at the memory of Trey’s first real vomit, nothing at all like the spit up I was used to.  “Exactly.”  He tipped his finger under Trey’s little chin.  “Like Uncle Eric and Uncle Steven don’t know things, we know tons of shit, don’t we, Boo Boo?”  Trey giggled again and it was my turn to laugh.  “I think Coach wants to make up with you, princess,” the tone was clear, mount him or I will and I shook my head.

“Still a thirsty little bitch, aren’t you, Eric?”  A glance at Negan told me that he was planning on leaving the final decision up to me.  That was rare.  “If he makes so much as a tiny little complaint-”

“Then we’ll be pounding on your door harder than Coach plans on pounding into you, OK?”  Another eye roll and I sighed.  “Trust us, Mara, you both need this.”

“Fine.”  I rushed up to kiss Trey good night, promising him that all he had to do was say the word and he’d be right back with mama.  And then, harder than when I’d left him with Steven and came with Negan to save a random person’s life, I watched them walk out the door of our new home.  

Inside the bedroom, our bedroom, I found the en suite bathroom easily enough.  Shaking my head again, I saw that not only had the asshole brought ALL my clothing, shoes, and accessories, but he’d also gutted our bathroom.  All my things, including our towels and washcloths, were carefully arranged, just as they had in our first home.  It boggles my mind that he remembered where everything had been placed, that he’d even kept the tiny crystal bobbles that weren’t useful, but I’d thought they were pretty enough to decorate with.  On top of the counter, lay a plush towel and beside it, clearly wanting to remind me of better days, sat the same baby doll nightie that I’d worn on our first night in our house.  

Taking my time, even after hearing him return to our rooms, I soaked in the deep bathtub.  I had so many questions.  The other women, for instance, where were they?  He mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to wash the linen from our bed for as long as possible, but did that mean that he’d been forced to because their perfume had covered my own?  This tub, was it where they’d soaked?  I knew, regardless of how much he wanted us to start over, or pretend that the redhead and then his multiple partners didn’t exist, I had to know more.  If only to make this work, I had to know how much of himself and OUR lives he’d given them.  

I braided my hair when I finally got out of the bathtub and dried off.  Then, as carefully as the first time I’d put the nightie on, I pulled it over my head and smiled at the fact that it still fit perfectly.  The panties, how certain I’d been that they were ruined, slid up my thighs as easily as once upon a time.  Taking a final look in the mirror, I saw the mark that his teeth had made on my neck and shook my head at how much and yet little he’d changed.  One final touch, a spritz of one of my favorite perfumes, and then I took a deep breath and opened the door separating us.  

He was staring out the window behind our living room chairs.  The leather jacket had been gone once we settled in for dinner, and Lucille was propped up next to the bed.  I took a  moment, brief though it was, to study Negan.  The jeans, the boots, the t-shirt, and God help me that scruff, had I ever really stopped loving him?  

“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, turning to face me, almost the entire room between us.  

I swallowed and felt my lips fall into an easy smile.  “‘The opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.’”  I offered, and watched his brow furrowed in confusion.  “It’s a quote that just came to me,” still whispering, even though Trey was with my best friends on the other end of the floor.  “I thought I didn’t love you anymore, but that was stupid.”  He started toward me, careful and slow.  “I could never stop loving you,”  a huff of breath, “it’s the only constant in my life.”  

“I’m sorry, Amara,” he was directly in front of me, his fingers brushing my cheek, and I realized he was wiping away a tear that I hadn’t noticed falling.  “I will spend the rest of my fucking life proving how sorry I am, how much I-”

I reached up and stopped him with a finger on his lips.  “I know, Negan, I do.”  I sighed, and moved away from him, toward our sofa.  “Come here,”  he sat and I curled into his lap.  “I have questions, will you answer them?”  

“Anything,” he offered, and so I asked, and he answered.  

We spent hours hashing out what had happened, what would happen now, and where the other women were.  He seemed to truly understand that I NEEDED the reassurance that this wasn’t a whim, that he would be completely sated by having ONLY me and that he understood that I wouldn’t share him with anyone else.   Once we seemed to run through the litany of all of my fears, including whether they’d been in our bed (a ‘no’ so loud I worried that Eric would be busting down the door to make sure we were alright), or our bathroom (seriously, he was pretty fucking appalled by the thought of them being within touching range of anything that was MINE), he finally picked me up and carried me to our bed.

“If you want to just sleep tonight,” I could see how much the idea of lying next to me again, even without sex was something he yearned for as much as I did.  “Then that’s fine with me, sweetheart.”  

Looking up at him , I bit my lip.  “Negan, if you’re not naked and on top of me in the next-”

I’d never seen a grown man lose his clothing as fast as Negan did, his mouth locked on mine and then those panties I’d been so impressed hadn’t been ruined during the first wearing were ripped and toss somewhere behind him and then we were joined and I swore, as I arched into his body and he swallowed every noise I could hope to make, that I’d die before we were parted again.  

[gra-sonas]

Cause You Feel Like Home

This is my contribution to Roswell New Mexico Week 2019, day 1 for the prompt when we were young.

Rating: PG-13 | Words: 1.250 | This fic is also on AO3

Note: Alex and Michael are parents to three biological children in this verse. There's no further explanation, please just handwave the details and believe, that Liz and Michael figured out a way to make this happen with the help of science and three alien pods. ;)

~

“If you could go back in time and change things about your life, would you?”  

Michael lifts his head from where it rests comfortably on Alex’s chest. He looks up at Alex questioningly.  

“Back in time how far?”  

“Doesn’t really matter, but how about when we were young?”  

Michael turns around onto his stomach, he throws an arm around Alex’s waist and rests his chin on Alex’s chest.  

“Where does this come from? And what do you mean with ‘when we were young’? We’re not old.”  

Alex’s smile is soft.  

“We both turned fifty this year, Michael. If we’re going by ‘years passed since conception’, you’re even a centenarian. Hell, there are days when my joints ache so much that I feel like a centenarian. And just ask our kids, according to them, we are ancient.”  

Michael scoffs, then inches closer until his lips meet Alex’s in a tender kiss.  

“Our kids have no respect for their dads. I wonder which part of the family they got that from.”  

Alex chuckles, but his face turns serious again.  

“I was serious. If you could go back in time to fix things, would you?”  

Michael thinks about it for a while.  

“You know, there’ve been quite a few things in my life that I regret. Things I said, things I did, people I hurt. If I could undo any of it without jeopardizing what we’ve built, I’d feel tempted. On the other hand, I think I’ve made amends for most of my mistakes. I’ve paid my price, so to speak, and everything that happened, lead me to this moment. I’m in a good place now, the best place, and I wouldn’t want to change any of that. There’s no place I’d rather be. Here, with you, my husband of 20 years, dad to three amazing children, uncle to a handful of other adorable gremlins. I’m happy, Alex. I’m so happy that I feel like I’m close to bursting sometimes. And it keeps getting better.”  

He leans in to kiss Alex again, putting all his love and desire for him into the kiss. And Alex responds, fiercely. The kiss turns into something <i>more</i> quickly, and for a while they are not talking. Not with words anyway, but with hot mouths and tender hands.  

Half an hour later there’s a knock on their bedroom door.  

“Are you quite done yet? Is it safe to enter? ARE YOU DECENT?”  

Alex and Michael look at each other and with a grin, they pull down the duvet as far as possible without revealing their most private parts and Michael bows his head to lazily kiss Alex’s chest. Alex places his hand at the nape of Michael’s head and slowly runs his fingers through Michael’s unruly curls, that are still the same honey-golden tone as when he’d been allowed to do this for the very first time all those years ago.  

“Come in, we’re decent!”  

The door opens and their eldest daughter peeks into the bedroom, a mess of curls the same color as Michael’s framing her face, that looks a lot like that of Alex’s mom. When she catches sight of them, she closes her eyes.  

“Oh my god, I did not need to see this. Why can’t you be like other parents and at least pretend to hate each other in front of your children?”  

Michael makes sure to swipe his tongue over Alex’s left nipple ever so slowly when she dares to blink at them once more. She looks so much like Michael when he’s furious in that moment, Alex can barely keep a straight face.  

“Mara, you know your Dad and I secretly hate each other’s guts, this is all just a show we put on to make you kids suffer.”  

Mara sighs deeply, then her face twists in disgust. She concentrates and the window opens on its own accord.  

“It smells disgusting in here. Go and shower, breakfast’s ready, we’re waiting for you. And no shower sex! I will turn off the water if you take too long. We are hungry!”  

With that, Mara leaves and slams the door behind her. When they are alone again, Alex bursts out laughing.  

“She looks so much like you when she’s pissed off, it’s hilarious.”  

“Oh, so she only looks like me when she’s angry, but she looks like you when she smiles? Is that how it works?”  

Alex’s face softens.  

“Of course not. But while her facial features come more after me and my mom, when she’s getting worked up over something, she reminds me a lot of young and angry hothead Michael Guerin. Must be the curls.”  

“You love my curls, admit it.”  

Alex runs his fingers through the silky strands and sighs, happily.  

“I adore your curls and I’m happy at least one of our kids was blessed with them. Even though it was a nightmare to untangle them each night when she was little. I’m glad she’s old enough to take care of her hair herself now.”  

Michael laughs.  

“She’s going through the MoroccanOil Intense Curl Cream Leave In conditioner at twice the speed I do. I’m just glad she realized that her dad was right when he suggested she’d use that instead of those fruity smelling products her friends love so much. I’ve been taking care of these curls for much longer and know what’s working to keep them look so lush.”  

Alex pouts a little.  

“Yeah, your curls still look the same, while I’m going gray at my temples. And have you seen my chest hair? It’s also going gray! Why is there not a single gray hair on your head or chest?”  

“Must be my superior alien genetics.”  

Michael yelps in pain when Alex grabs a strand of curls and pulls.  

“Don’t be rude to your merely human husband who was just fishing for compliments and the reassurance that you still love him even though he’s going gray. Or possibly bald in a couple of years.”  

Michael makes sure to lock eyes with Alex before he speaks.  

“Alex Guerin, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were young, and I was an 'angry hothead'. I love you now that you’re going gray, I’ll love you in the future, even if you should go bald. I know and promise, I’ll never stop loving you for as long as I live.”  

Alex’s eyes are a little wet when he looks at Michael.  

“I love you too, Guerin.”  

They kiss again, only to be interrupted by a bellowed “Dad and Dad, I don’t hear the water running, so stop whatever you’re doing. Now! Go shower and come downstairs, we are starving!” from downstairs.  

“Your daughter’s bossy.”  

Michael kisses Alex’s nose and smirks.  

“She’s your daughter, too. And you and I know pretty well who passed the bossy gene onto her.”  

Alex’s grin is blinding.  

“How about I boss you into taking a shower with me, and then we’ll join our hungry kids for breakfast?”  

“I love it when you’re bossing me into taking a shower with you. Do you think we can get away with a quickie, or will she turn the water off?”  

Alex looks at Michael, raising one brow in question. They both nod at each other and speak in unison.  

“She’s our kid, she absolutely will turn the water off.”  

They burst out laughing and share one last kiss before they make a move to get out of bed.

[klivianjade]

Whumptober prompt 20

Trembling.

I’m late as usual and I’m taking some liberties here. My timeline is fuzzy but I’m placing this after Luke’s encounter with the Emperor reborn on Byss. Do with that information what you will.

Luke was back.

His students and colleagues had rallied around him; even embraced him with open arms, telling tales of how the Luke Skywalker had conquered the dark side.

They said that he had beaten it, risen above it even. They knew he had it in him, they said.

To them, he was invincible.

Mara saw it for what it truly was. He was weak.

He failed them. But more importantly, he failed her.

She had been invited to sit in on an open council meeting regarding Luke Skywalker’s return from the dark side. She hadn’t been able to get close to him since his return, so she couldn’t pass up the opportunity she had been given.

She sat quietly in the auditorium on Yavin IV, the sun shining through the glass ceiling of the opulent room, and bit her tongue as the beloved Jedi master recounted his time spent with the emperor reborn.

By the time he was finished, she had four bloodstained divots in each of her palms.

She took note of the audience, his twin sister sitting diligently on the front row, Solo at her side. She watched as Leia dabbed at the corners of her eyes, discretely.

She watched his fellow Jedi as they nodded in agreement with whatever filth was pouring from his mouth, knowing that the Jedi master could sell poodoo to a bantha breeder with a smile and a simple wave of his hand.

She hated him, and this time, it wasn’t because of the emperor’s voice in her head.

Today she hated him because he had betrayed everything she thought he stood for.

She was biding her time for the right moment, and thank the force it was finally upon her.

Kam Solusar approached the dias, calling for a vote from the council to reinstate their beloved Jedi master.

The vote was unanimous, as expected, but Mara had to bite back the feral grin threatening to split across her face as Solusar asked if anyone in the audience objected the council’s decision.

She rose from her seat, effectively silencing every being in the room as they turned their attention towards her.

“I have quite a few objections.” She addressed Kam Solusar as she ascended the stairs, eyes narrowing on her from around the spacious room.

She approached the dias, walking up the stairs until she was near Luke Skywalker, golden child of the rebellion.

He met her steps, facing her, expecting her to speak her mind.

Instead, Mara reared back and landed a solid punch straight to his left cheek, knocking him to the ground.

The gasps erupting around her were like music to her ears. It was a release unlike any other, one that she would savor for the rest of her days.

“Get up.” She commanded, hands trembling. “I’m no where near finished with my ‘objections.’”

Luke rolled into his side, preparing to stand and take whatever punishment Jade wanted to unleash on him. He only wished his sister didn’t have to witness it.

Kam Solusar and Kyle Katarn approached her, palms raised in an attempt to calm her agitated presence.

Luke waved them off, wanting to face this battle in his own.

“Stand down.” He commanded. “Let her speak.”

He anticipated another blow, but was surprised when Mara began to speak.

“You know, the emperor used to sit at my bedside after he had punished me for failing.” She spoke with clenched fists, aching to hit him again.

“He would tell me about how I was built for this. I was made specifically for this purpose. That I should embrace it.” She shook her head in disgust. “I should have gutted him when I had the chance.”

She gave the Jedi master a shove.

“Remember when I told you about the glass pits on Korriban?” She questioned.

Luke remained silent.

“I told you about how he dropped me in one of those pits and left me there for three days.” She paced back and forth in front of him, vaguely registering the fact that the other council members had began to evacuate the auditorium.

“He finally pulled me out when I had lost over half of my blood supply.”

She hit him again.

“Maybe you’re having a hard time remembering,” she knelt down so that she was at eye level with him.

“Let me help you.”

She placed both palms on the sides of his head, and let her memories assault him in a violent stream, each recollection more violent than the last. It wasn’t the first time she had shared her memories with him, but it was clear to her that he needed a refresher course.

She vaguely registered a desperate voice from behind her.

“Mara! No!”

She didn’t care. He needed to feel what she felt.

She held on like her life depended on it until the memory transfer was complete and Luke was nothing more than a convulsing heap on the floor.

“What have you done to him?” Leia yelled, rushing to her brother’s side as anger and fear laced her words.

“I only showed him the truth.” Mara dropped her hands and backed away slowly, still in a daze from reliving the horrors inside her own mind.

Hands gripped her arms, dragging her away from the quivering form of the New Republic’s beloved hero.

She smiled.

It was worth it.

[youngster-monster]

Day eleven // memories

As soon as Petra tells him Uldren is alive, Jolyon has no choice but to go see for himself. She knows it, too. That’s why she doesn’t say anything as she watches him leave, but her pitying look is heavy on his back, charged with meaning.

Why do this to yourself? Why bother? Why can’t you let it lie?

And Jolyon knows, alright? He knows he's only hurting himself with this. But he can't help it.

Uldren's madness had been an open wound, left to fester for as long as Uldren had been locked up in the Prison of Elders. His death had been an emptiness, a void, the hole left after digging out the dead flesh. It kept him awake at night, feverish with grief, regrets like a lump in his throat.

(Uldren has always been like a sickness in his blood, burning him from the inside out. He never learned to resent him for it.)

His resurrection is like an itch. A scab he can’t help but to pick at. It would be healthier to leave it alone, but it feels wrong after all the two of them have been through, like he owes it to Uldren to lay his memory to rest once and for all. Bury him himself. He can’t do that if someone’s walking around wearing Uldren’s body.

Pain is an integral part of the Sov experience, anyway. Uldren left scars like marks of ownership: once upon a time, Jolyon readily accepted them like proofs of affection, of battles won and quicksilver smiles in the privacy of a sniper’s stake-out. Mara was much the same if Sjur was to be believed, though more subtle than her brother — as was usually the case. She said I love you more often. This is their only real difference. He can't tell if it was a kindness.

At least Uldren was never cruel.

Petra stops him on the steps of his ship

“You know he won’t remember. He won’t be the same”

“I’m hoping for it,” he says, voice soft with a well-worn kind of grief. “I don’t know what I’d do if he were.”

With the help of Petra’s intel it doesn’t take Jolyon long to track his fireteam down to Nessus. And isn’t that an odd thought, Uldren so comfortable in his role as a Guardian he is part of a fireteam?

It’s easier than expected to catch Uldren alone. Jolyon calls out to him as he’s wandering off away from his fireteam, legs dangling off the branch of a giant tree.

Uldren looks up, his expression closed up, wary.

“You know me,” he states, like it’s a terrible hassle. “Are you here to kill me?”

“No.” Never could, never will. “Anyway, I think you’ve become remarkably harder to kill than the last time anyone attempted.”

He tilts his head, lips quirked in an amused smile. “Hasn’t stopped anyone from trying before.”

Familiarity is like a punch in the guts, leaving Jolyon briefly breathless. He shakes it off.

“I do want to talk, though.” He gestures to the branch he’s sitting on. “Join me?”

Uldren does. Now his reckless assurance has a basis in reality: easier to pull a stunt like storming the Black Garden when you’re basically unkillable.

If only they’d known. If only—

“Who are you?” He asks. That pulls him out of his thoughts with the effectiveness of a bullet in the heart. He seems to realize and looks away, awkward. He won’t say sorry, though. Prideful bastard. It’s not like he can help it, anyway. Guardians never remember anything. He does offer an explanation, a new but welcome development. “People keep coming up to me like they know me. At this point it’s quicker to ask outright.”

“I’m- Jolyon.”

There’s not way to summarize their entire relationship in a way that is both concise and not too weird to hear out of the blue, so he doesn’t bother to try.

Uldren takes it in and for a wonderful second Jolyon can almost believe he’ll remember… something. Then he shakes his head and sounds almost apologetic when he says, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Didn’t expect it to.”

“Were we… close?”

That takes him by surprise. He glances at Uldren, but the Prince— well. Not Prince anymore. He’s looking away, one knee brought up to his chest. He always tries to pass it up as a casual sitting position, a way to offer his arm a support, but in truth he only does it when he’s uncomfortable. Like putting something between himself and everyone else can protect him, somehow.

“We were,” he says with absolute certainty. At least he likes to think so. “I was your partner. Fought at your side more often than not. You were my look-out in the field.”

“Alright.” A simple acceptance, like it’s an objective fact that isn’t remotely connected to him. In a way, it isn’t. “What are you here for, then? Trying to rekindle an old flame?”

“It’s not- we weren’t… like that.”

“You look like you were.”

This time it’s Jolyon who looks away. “You- It didn’t work like that.”

“Yeah, I’m getting the feeling old me wasn’t big on interpersonal relationships.”

“No he wasn’t. We were friends, though.” He looks off into the distance and sees eyes dark with the revelations of the Black Garden, the words Uldren never meant to let slip out but didn’t care enough to stop. How can I care for something that never surprises me? “I just don’t think he knew how to love things that loved him back.”

“That’s fucked up.”

This shocks a laugh out of him. He watches Uldren’s outraged expression in the corner of his eye and his heart clenches at the familiarity of it. “Yeah. Yeah, it was. Living with Mara Sov has that effect on people.”

They die or they become… weird. Often both, in either order.

Silence stretches for a moment before Jolyon lets out the question burning his tongue.

“You really don’t remember- Anything? Anything at all?”

Uldren sounds genuinely sad when he replies, “No. Guardians are a blank slate when they’re brought back. We’re not even supposed to seek out our past. Guess I’m just lucky enough to have it seek me out, instead.”

He says lucky like a curse. Jolyon can relate.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have a right for closure, I guess.” A shrug. “I’m just not the right person to ask for it.”

He jerks his hand up, seems unsure what to do with it, combs his fingers through his hair for something to do.

“I just… I hate it, you know? All those people coming to��� kill me or talk to me or whatever. I don’t know them. I wish I did. Or that I was someone else. Though I guess I am, and isn’t that the whole problem? Can’t be tried for the other me’s crimes, can’t be seen as someone else because we share a face.” He chuckles, a harsh, tired sound. “Hey, maybe I’m more him than I thought. It’s awfully easy to talk to you, considering you’re a stranger.”

It’s a long time before he finds the right words to reply. He wants to joke, say I have that effect on people, but he doesn’t know how this Uldren would react. His Uldren — if he could ever be called his — would laugh with him, punch him in the shoulder. His Uldren never sounded like he wanted to cry.

Maybe that’s the point, though. This is a whole new person. He just has to learn everything about him again.

He settles for positive affirmation. “You are,” he says. “A different person, that is.”

“You look at me like I’m the same.”

“Yeah, because I was in love with the guy whose face you’re wearing. I can’t just ignore that.” He shrugs. “Worst thing I’ve happened. And in the end, I’m... glad. That you’re not him.”

Uldren frowns in surprise, turning to look fully at him. “You are?”

“He wasn’t easy to love. All… sharp edges. Him and his sisters were more walking piles of issues than people, some days. And in the end- It wasn’t even him anymore. I’m glad he got to rest, and you get to… do some good in his name.”

“But I don’t want to do things in his name!” He whines.

Another shrug. It feels good to fall back into their old dynamic, the impassive counterweight to the petulant prince. Some things never change.

“You don’t get a choice on that. People will always see you as him, whether you like it or not. All you can do is make up for his choices by being better than him. Give another sense to his name.”

Uldren grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. They sit together, the silence not quite companionable, until a voice calls for Uldren. His fireteam leader, probably. Jolyon stands up, goes to leave before she can find them.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Do you want to- would you like to talk? Again?” His hand is outreached toward Jolyon. He frowns slightly when he notices it, lets it fall, tries to cover the gesture with words. “Maybe you can tell me some old stories,  try to jog my memory some.”

“I thought you wanted to move on from him. And for your past to stop seeking you out.”

“Well, my past is going to seek me out whatever happens. A Guardian being resurrected so soon after their death is rare, the whole… don’t go looking for your past doesn’t really apply to me, I think. I did too much stuff before I died.” He rises to his feet, dusts himself for an excuse to look away from Jolyon. “Anyway, it’s like you said. I need to- be better, right? Might as well start with being a better friend. You’re nice. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.”

Jolyon sighs. It sounds like a bad idea. They usually do, with Uldren. Past or present. But he could never say no. He steps forward.

Uldren doesn’t waste a second to fish a pen out of his pocket, take his hand and scribble a series of numbers on the back of it. He feels warm, solid, alive, in a way that sends lightning coursing up Jolyon’s arm all the way to his heart, shocking it out of rhythm.

“Call me whenever.”

“Sure,” he says as he moves away.

Uldren calls out after him. “Don’t be a stranger!”

“I already am!”

He doesn’t turn around, no matter how much he wants to. The numbers burn against his skin. He moves to rub his hand, stops.

Wouldn’t want to smear them.

[stopforamoment]

Tumbled Down and Shattered (4 of 7)

Sturm und Drang

Tumbled Down and Shattered (4 of 7)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,979 Rating: R for Language and Discussion of Rape ****TRIGGERS discussion of rape and unwanted sexual contact Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. This series takes place in week three of the school year, and Bastien and Rinda are about to go through their first major friendship challenges. This chapter is inspired by a quotation from Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God (Chapter Six):

Janie stood where he left her for unmeasured time and thought. She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. Then she went inside there to see what it was. It was her image of Jody tumbled down and shattered. But looking at it she saw that it never was the flesh and blood figure of her dreams. Just some thing she had grabbed up to drape her dreams over. In a way she turned her back upon the image where it lay and looked further. She had no more blossomy openings dusting pollen over her man, neither any glistening young fruit where the petals used to be.

Summary: Bastien told Rinda the truth about his involvement with framing Queen Riley, and Rinda is trying to process everything.

Betrayed. She felt betrayed. Even though it didn’t directly affect her, even though Bastien was following King Constantine’s orders, she felt betrayed. He was supposed to be one of the “good ones.” The kind you rarely found. The ones who were gentle and protecting, the ones who made you feel safe and cherished. But Bastien didn’t do that for Queen Riley. He fell short. Rinda knew she put him on a pedestal, that her judgement was clouded because of how kind he’d been to her and Henry. She didn’t know how to reconcile that man, the one she knew ten minutes ago, with the man who sat in front of her now. The man to whom she now felt a deep loathing. She took a deep breath, taking her time and weighing her options before she spoke. Did she want to torch their friendship? She could. And she would. Few people knew the true extent of Rinda’s temper. She internalized things and held a grudge until she was just done with someone. And when she was done, she struck. Hard and unfair. Lashing out, purposely burning bridges, not caring because she never needed to look back. Rinda knew from growing up with her parents that words hurt. Even the tone of how something was said, or the timing of it, that hurt too. And no matter how often someone said “sorry,” the crack was there. Those words could never be taken back. Rinda hated confrontation and it drove Jameson crazy. He would ask “what’s wrong,” and she would refuse to answer. Then days, even weeks later she’d bring it up again. At first Jameson thought she did it on purpose, dredging up the past. But then he realized that it truly took her that long to internalize things and Rinda learned that she needed to be more vocal about her feelings. And they learned how to compromise. Jameson learned to give Rinda her space for a day or two, and she learned to accept that him asking “what’s wrong” multiple times, even after she already told him several times, was his way of caring. He knew her too well. He knew that she could be fine with giving the facts of what was wrong. The what. But he knew to keep chipping away, until she could explain her feelings of what was wrong. The why. They learned how to understand each other, how to fight fair. And no matter how upset Jameson got with Rinda, he remembered her baggage because of her parents. He never raised his voice to her and they never fought in front of Henry. But all of that was over. This was the present, and she was standing in front of him. The man who read her file, who knew the truth about her rape. The one she confided to about how embarrassed she was when being a woman was used against her, and how much she missed Jameson and how he would protect her. Bastien was the man who held her when she saw the video and Jameson died all over again. And she hated him even more because he had access to those intimate parts of her life, and he made her feel safe. But it was just an illusion, not a reality. He wasn’t real and she should have known that he was too good to be true. They wouldn’t be working together for much longer. And Henry didn’t need to know the truth. They’d be back in the United States soon enough. They wouldn’t have kept in touch anyways. She could burn that bridge, and she could burn it well, because Rinda knew his weaknesses. It started the first day of training when he asked her “Mrs. Parks, if you really needed to defend yourself and your students, what would you do?” That’s all it took to goad her, to prove to him that she would stop at nothing. She sized him up. He was almost a foot taller than her, but she knew lower body pressure points that work with a taller opponent. And he had a slight, slight limp. She doubted if anyone else noticed it. But Jameson had a work injury and she was used to his modified gait, overcompensating because of the pain in his leg when he walked. She saw Bastien did the same thing, and she was going to exploit that weakness. If it were someone threatening her students, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. And it worked. Just enough that he was caught off guard and he fell to his knees. Rinda immediately backed up. The practice drill wasn’t over, and he could still grab her and pull her down. She quickly asked to end that drill and good-naturedly gave him her hand to help him up. She made sure to make a point of thanking him for going easy on her and not kicking her ass. Everyone else in the room chuckled, assuming that’s what happened. But the truth was that she exploited a weakness of his that he wasn’t expecting, and she got very lucky. That limp. Other guards must have seen it, the king and queen must have seen it, and she was certain the true extent of his injuries were more commonly known than Bastien would like to admit. Mara was doing a great job at the palace, and it was very possible she was Bastien’s permanent replacement. And he swore an oath to defend King Constantine, but it meant nothing because that king was a piece of shit, and Bastien was nothing more than his lackey. And a queen dying when he was right there in the room, supposed to be protecting her? And two palace attacks, when he was in charge of security? He trusted her with personal details of his life, just like she trusted him. Yes. Rinda could decimate him. But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t her mom and she wasn’t her dad. And the safety of the children when Liam and Riley visited was more important than this. So she took a deep breath. She would say her peace, but she would still try to fight fair.

“Bastien, you know she could have been raped? And even if Drake was in the room next door, there was no guaranty that he would be there, that he could have gotten there in time?” “Yes.” It was softer than a whisper. That further admission of guilt and failure. “And you know how fucking strong Riley is, to survive after almost-naked photos of her were shared with the world, another thing done without her consent, and she was fucking SLUT-SHAMED for something she didn’t even do? I mean, that’s how low everyone had to stoop to stop her? To use non-consensual sexual contact and lies as a weapon against her? Fuck. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always that kind of low blow when men can’t stop a powerful, qualified woman.” Bastien clenched his hands, knuckles turning white. He didn’t make eye contact with Rinda. Bastien knew he fucked up, and although Queen Riley was gracious enough to forgive him, hearing Rinda say it out loud was breaking him. And he deserved it. Rinda stopped to mull things over before speaking again. She could tell that he felt remorse. Not that it did any good now. She also knew that he didn’t have to tell her the truth. Rinda thought about what she learned from fighting with Jameson. She was going to compartmentalize those facts about this shitty, shitty situation. Emotionally, for her, it didn’t matter if he felt remorse now or not. It didn’t matter whether he chose to confess it to her on his own, or whether she found out through someone else. The deed was still done, and it was disgusting that he agreed to be a part of it. There was no honor in that. But she put that away, for now. She could process that later, when he was gone. Intellectually, rationally, logically, it was courageous that he spoke to her. That took guts. And he regrets his actions, and Queen Riley came out on top, even graciously forgiving him, so that’s got to mean something. Maybe she shouldn’t pick at that scab anymore. Okay. She would hang onto that reasoning as she continued. But just for now. She wasn’t even close to ready to speak about her feelings yet. And if she were, it would either be a Rinda Rant or a string of obscenities and attacks. She would either make an ass of herself or burn that bridge. Stories. Stories worked when she had trouble communicating her feelings, and it worked in the past when she tried to explain herself to Bastien. “Bastien. I never truly understood why people would willingly do so much to protect others. Military, law enforcement, first responders. I never understood that level of bravery and honor. I could only admire it. “Where we live, there were budget cuts after budget cuts, to the point that it wasn’t safe for the police officers in Jameson’s department. Not having the right equipment, shitty insurance, shitty pay. And I knew that Jameson needed to protect people. That was his calling, and all of that other stuff didn’t matter, because he and the other officers swore an oath to protect and serve.” Rinda paused, getting wrapped up in other emotions she always tried to keep hidden away. “But it was still insulting. There are a lot of bad cops out there, so Jameson would always do his best to promote positive interaction in the community. But he would still have to give people tickets, or arrest someone. He was still hated. He was sworn at, spit on. And the city couldn’t even give the police a living wage or decent insurance, yet the public expected these men and women to protect them, babysit them, die for them. He was injured in the line of duty . . . I mean, before . . . He was never the same after that injury, in constant discomfort and even pain. The job took such a toll on his body and his mind. I . . . I actually wished those people would have something bad happen to them, and the police would simply refuse to show up and help, like a blue flu or strike. “But Jameson had more courage and honor than I ever will. And when something bad actually did happen, well, the joke was on me.” She suddenly stopped and shook her head. That story brought up memories of other anger and personal guilt that she still had stored away, and she needed to get back to this situation. Bastien was quiet, unsure of how to respond or where Rinda was even going with this. After a minute she continued, but she went in a different direction. “Then I think about the U.S. secret service. What an honor to serve our country that way. But what happens when you don’t respect the person you’re guarding? When you follow them around while they’re having an affair. Or conducting illicit business. What happens when your loyalty and courage are compromised? Or isn’t it a compromise because you’re just doing your job? Is the guilt only with the commander who issues the orders, not the subordinate who follows them?

“Bastien, I’m rambling with these stories to tell you that I don’t understand how people like you and Jameson think. But I want to understand. Especially because I don’t understand what it’s like to pledge an oath to defend someone with your own life, and what you do when that person doesn’t appreciate it or isn’t worth it. Because Bastien, no one’s life is worth a man like that. Someone who would deliberately hurt a woman like that. “Bastien, I want you to tell me.”

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Off Limits (Skam - Chris x OC) Part 3

Pairing: Chris x OC

Synopsis: Mara Magnusson has always had everything she ever wanted in life, except for one thing. The boyish charm of her brother’s childhood friend had wrecked her poor heart and ruined her for any other guy – you can trust her, she has tried. She could see the way he looked at her, though she knew there were rules about not hitting on your best friend’s little sister. Luckily for her, there were no restrictions when it was the other way around.

Word count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

Part 2 <<< >>> Part 4

People could say whatever they wanted about Chris, but he knew how to be a gentleman when he wanted or needed to. When he was courting someone, or when he was in presence of someone he appreciated and respected, he behaved properly. He had always treated Mara right, because she deserved it and also because William wouldn't permit Chris to treat Mara any less than like a princess.

But as of lately he was a little uneasy about the girl, she was up to something and his guts told him that he wouldn't like it. Since her stunt this morning in the hallway, Chris knew that the boys she was flirting with weren't an end, but means to an end. But Mara was a mystery to everyone even herself, she had a twisted mind and she was smart and cunning, she could be scheming for world domination for all he knew. Although he was quite certain world domination did not involve laughing at a guy's every joke so loudly everyone in her vicinity could hear how fake her laugh was. She wanted someone to hear her, or see her. She had a secret agenda and Chris tortured his mind with far-fetched theories about it.

It was why he didn't get out of his car and come to her door. He parked in front of her and William's building and waited there. He came right on time although he knew she was always ten minutes late. Not because she could never get ready on time, but just because she enjoyed letting him stew for a bit, most likely looking through the window and smirking to herself. That was who she was.

Chris was startled when he heard a knock on the car's window. Mara's face was on the other side, her breath steaming up the window.

“Hey!” She said, her voice barely audible.

Chris unlocked the door and gave a quick glance to the clock. It was 9:02pm, was her clock running ahead? She opened the door and sat down next to him, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. Her smile lit up the interior of the car in an eery way, or maybe it was just Christoffer who missed being at the other end of it.

“I haven't made you wait too long, haven't I?” She asked. “What's with that face you're making Chris, do I have something on my chin?”

Mara's hand covered her mouth, like she feared her lipstick smudged over her chin. Chris hadn't realized he was staring at her lips, but he shook his head and started the engine.

“You're perfect Mara,” Chris reassured her, wishing he could have said it in another way. But there really wasn't any other word to qualify her right now. “I just arrived, don't worry.”

“Ooh, you're awfully serious,” she noticed. “What happened?”

One thing that only Mara could accomplish was to simultaneously make fun of someone and show concern. She might tease the hell out of her friends, but she cared deeply about them and she was a good listener.

“What makes you think something happened? Maybe I'm just grumpy for no reason,” he shot back, feeling like punching himself for being such a grump with her. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It's complicated.”

“Is it a girl?” She asked. It was terribly cliché to associate 'complicated' with 'girls', but she was a girl herself and she shouldered her complexity.

“Yes,” Chris answered, gritting his teeth. He didn't mind sharing what was on his mind with her, except when she was the thing on his mind.

“Can I help?” Mara asked, turning down the volume of the music.

It took Chris a fair amount of time to ponder on the question, and it was only when the car came to a stop at a red light that Chris turned toward her and answered.

“You could. But I'm not asking you to, I'll figure it out myself. If I don't then-” he shrugged. “-it'll be my loss.”

“Or hers,” she pointed out, raising one of her neatly done eyebrows. She knew the devil was in the details, she lives by that rule.

“Can't we talk about something else? It's getting depressing,” Chris said, not answering to Mara's comment.

He wasn't sure if it would be her loss though, the girl truly had everything going for her, and Chris would consider himself lucky if she graced him with her attention. He wasn't talking about the friendly attention he already had from her. He wanted to be more.

“We can talk about anything you want Chris,” she simply replied. “I've never seen you so stern before a party, is it because William ditched you for Noora?”

Chris let a laugh that was tainted with bitterness.

“Heartbroken, yeah,” he replied. “I don't know what to do to get his attention anymore. What do you think, should I write him a poem? Serenade him?”

“Oh I bet he'd like that!” Mara laughed when she finally spotted a genuine smile on Chris' face. “You should definitely give it a try. At the break of dawn, right under his window.”

Both of them knew how much William hated getting up before ten.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” Chris asked in bewilderment. “I'm too handsome to die,” he objected.

“I can't disagree with that,” Mara said. “I'm sure you'll find a way to win him back. True love fins a way,” she assured him.

“Okay, can we just stop the romantic metaphors here? It's confusing the heck out of me,” Chris said in a more joyful tone then before. “What about your love affairs? Business seems to be going well these days.”

“Is that supposed to be insulting or did I miss something?” Mara's brows knitted together in confusion. “Why do you ask anyway, do you wanna be one?” She then asked just to tease him.

It worked. Chris was thoroughly dazzled and confused upon hearing her words.

“You see right through me,” he shot her back with a smirk. “Your friends are terrible flirts by the way, if I hear one more sexist joke I have to laugh at, I'll kill a man.”

“Nobody forces you to laugh at them. It'd be much more entertaining to watch you kick some ass than to see you coo with another Penetrator.”

“Been watching me, eh?” She bit her lip. “I'm not doing it out of pleasure, let me tell you...”

“Then why?” Chris had to ask since she didn't say anything more than that.

“I'm trying to elicit a reaction..”

She shrugged dismissively in a way that suggested that she didn't want to linger on the subject. Chris didn't care, he needed to know.

“Whose reaction?”

Mara kept silent a couple minutes and when they arrived, Chris thought he was not getting an answer after all. The music was already loud enough here, luckily for them the house was fairly isolated therefore the party shouldn't get busted by the cops.

A thousand different answers had crossed Mara's mind within the two minutes that passed between the moment Chris asked and the moment they reached the house. She couldn't decide. Mara always knew what she wanted to say, being hesitant was not one of her personality traits. But it did take her a certain amount of time to decide what to say to this. A split second decision cut the deal for her. She opened the door and before getting out and getting drunk, she said the words that would once again wreck Chris' world and put it upside down.

“Yours.”

A/N: The more reviews I get, the quicker you get next part!