#i keep going over it. i don't think the situation allows for a 'better' option

[bookwyrminspiration]

Relating to your last ask on how Sophie handled your parents, I'm always interested as to what alternatives could have been. Could they have done a fake boarding school esque situation, possibly having to use Beguiling or the like to convince her parents to let her go? Could they have erased only Sophie but kept the rest of their memories intact (but they might still have to remove them from their location)? If that's beyond an average telepath's capabilities, is that something Sophie might be able to do (likely with the training she didn't have at the time)? Could she have brought them to the elven world with her and in doing so become the beginning of rebuilding the bridge between humans and elves? What do you think would be best for all parties, if the situation had been approached differently and with more care than the elves showed in canon? Would it inevitably be a tradeoff between keeping Sophie in her parents' lives and keeping her parents safe?

Oo okay alright alright! Very interesting. I'm going to go through these and assess them based on what problems may be encountered and whether they'd be a plausible alternative--but! this is just for fun and my opinion, please don't take it against you, I'm doing this enthusiastically not critically :)

Fake boarding school: I feel like this is close to an idea Sophie wondered about, and the main obstacle here would be getting them to agree--hence the beguiler thing. But then we also encounter the problem of how long would the beguiling last? Would they need to be continuously beguiled, and would the council approve using a beguiler for that when they could use an alternative? Probably not. This also requires Sophie to continue constantly lying to her parents--even more so than before--which was something she didn't think she could keep up much longer. It's not impossible, but the technicals of this seem difficult and strenuous

Erasing only Sophie: Possibly! But like you said, that level of skill is probably beyond the average telepath, making it significantly more difficult. And given what we learned from Damel, until he worked alongside Sophie, he'd never washed memories without risk of triggering them back. There would be so many things that could trigger those memories. Another question would be: how many memories are left after that? Sophie has been integral to their lives for over a decade, how are they going to fill that gap? What's Sophie-free? I think it's a plausible solution, but would be very very difficult and time consuming, and have a good risk of triggered memories (since Sophie wasn't able to help yet).

Bringing them to the elven world: At the time, the council was involved and overseeing things. I can't imagine any situation where they'd knowingly allow three humans to live in the elven world just because Sophie didn't want to leave them. There's also the fact that they are human. Sophie moves to the Lost Cities for many reason, but one of them being that she's an elf who doesn't belong in the Forbidden Cities. Her family would be just as out of place if not more so in the Lost Cities, and I don't think Sophie could do that to them. They don't speak the language (although it can be given, as we saw with Amy), they can't light leap without help, they're not going to be treated kindly by anyone else if anyone else even knows of their presence. Amy said in Nightfall that as amazing as the Lost Cities were, she could tell that she didn't belong and wanted to go back home.

I've said this before, but honestly? I don't think there is a better option than what we saw in canon, or at least I haven't encountered it yet. There's no good option, it's inherently an immoral and unethical situation, and I just can't envision one where everything works out best for everyone and could actually be implemented. Your second suggestion about erasing only Sophie could be an improvement, but I worry that retaining the rest of their memories would inevitably lead to triggered memories of Sophie, and that can only happen so many times before they'd just erase their memories fully because it wasn't working.

If everyone was super super agreeable and realism disregarded, the closest I get is if Sophie's human parents are made fully aware of the situation and then knowingly allow her to attend Foxfire and engage in the elven world while still living with her. But the elves won't let that happen and that puts a huge target on her family, who are human and can't defend themselves against the Neverseen once they enter the story more fully. It can't last

So for now (and my opinion may change) it does seem like an inevitable trade off. I don't think they're good, but the two options presented in canon (fake death or erased) are the best of a bunch of shitty options. I'm not sure what I would've picked between the two if I were in that situation, but I think Sophie picking what she did was in character, and therefore the better option for the story.

But again, these are all just my thoughts and opinions and how I've engaged with the story. There's no right answer here, and I say this all as part of an enthusiastic analytical conversation, not as critical judgement of anything :)

[beatrice-otter]

I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.

You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.

I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.

On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.

Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.

On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?

First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:

Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).

Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.

Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.

Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.

So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.

Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.

Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.

Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.

And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.

I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.

But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.

"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."

Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?

[drdemonprince]

the porn addiction anon made me think to ask, do you have an opinion on viewing self-harm behaviors as an addiction?

i personally have found it to be a helpful way of looking at my relationship with it and fairly accurate to my experience with urges and tolerances etc, and i don't personally care whether it's ever officially considered an addiction or not, but i am curious about the conversation about it and your opinion if you have one.

thank you for reading this and if you respond, thank you for your response!

I think that the 'addiction' frame for self-harm can make the most sense if you're personally on board with a goal of abstinence -- but I would still caution against it somewhat, as research generallly suggests that when a person views a behavior pattern as being caused by an 'addiction' they are less likely to feel that they have agency over it, and are more likely to experience shame when they experience relapses.

What I find most appealing and helpful in understanding self-harm, both for myself and others, is to appreciate the multiple needs that the self-harm typically satisfies. This can be things like providing an endorphin rush, distracting from a disturbing situation, a physical outlet for emotional pain, a means of conveying to others that you are suffering, a source of stimulation, a means of grounding oneself within one's body, an intense enough sensation to shock you out of dissociation, a way to burn off excess energy, an acceptable outlet for one's anger, a way to take control over one's own body, a means of accessing privacy, a means of expressing a meltdown or any number of other things.

When we can see that self-harm is beneficial and sensible in several key ways, it's easier to view it as just one option among many for meeting a person's needs -- and sometimes it might be the best option! Appreciating what self-harm meaningfully does for us allows us to make clearer decisions about what is lacking or painful for us in life at the moment, and minimizing the unwanted damage caused by it. This framing also centers the self-harming person as having the authority to determine what is best for their own life, even while honoring that they might require support getting their needs satisfied.

For example, I used to look down on my excessive exercise habit as solely an eating disorder symptom, one that I was "addicted" to and shamefully couldn't shake. But any time I tried to force myself to not exercise the way I wanted to, I felt cranky, pent up, resentful, stressed, and was actually prone to more damaging forms of self-harm.

It was only after reading more about harm reductionist approaches to eating disorders that I figured out that the long walks I love to go on are not *only* a means of purging, though that is how they began -- they also provide me a needed energy valve, a space to meditate and daydream, an excuse to get away from people when I'm feeling trapped, and a daily obligation that for many years prevented me from overworking, because it consumed up so much time in my day.

I was most prone to long, long, longgg walks that bordered on physically damaging when I was trapped in a house that was not emotionally safe to me, completely overwhelmed with stress due to school and work, and unaware of the sensory and energy-expenditure needs related to my neurodivergence. Now that I'm in a better situation, I still need to exercise almost every day to keep my anxiety and rage even somewhat at bay, but I don't need to do it for *hours*, and I'm making my body stronger rather than weakening myself. I have other ways of addressing my sensory needs, seeking privacy, finding stimulation, and so on. Compared to others I can still seem a bit compulsively physical, exercising even when I am sick, and when I can't work exercise into my daily schedule I do get fucking irate -- but really, what's the problem? It doesn't really qualify as self-harm anymore.

The same logic works on most of the other forms of self-harm I have exhibited, too, from seeking out abusive relationships to reading transphobic hate forums. I did those things because I was completely emotionally blunted, depressed, isolated, and craving stimuli that reinforced my existing self-hatred. And those forms of self-harm intellectually engaged me, filled me with excitement, and shocked my system in ways both good and bad. I'm glad I don't do that shit anymore mostly, but it didn't get better because I realized I was "addicted" to self-harming or anything like that. I had to work on addressing the unmet need.

I hope that others who view self-harming differently will sound off in the notes, because I do think the forms my self-harm has taken are significantly different from things like cutting, burning, etc, and what works for me won't work for everybody else. For the most part I have only physically struck myself when I'm in the midst of a meltdown, so that form of self-injury hardly even ranks as "self harm" to me because it's not really intentional.

[lady-raziel]

long reaction to the update

ok. so they put out an update video! since i've been commentating for the last three days i might as well subject you all to more of my thoughts today.

main takeaway: this was a good apology video. i mean it. short and to the point, no overproduction, heartfelt and honest (and not a ukelele to be seen. thank god.) they took ownership of the situation, apologized, and restated how much they value their relationship with the fandom.

their solution is to make the watcher tv platform into kind of an iteration of patreon where content is available for early access before it is released onto youtube later. this is clearly a better option than paywalling everything for everyone. i'm not sure what the relative breakdown of costs turns out to be when you compare how much they were making on patreon after the platform took their cut VS how much it costs in overhead to run and maintain their own platform (how much it costs annually to contract via Vimeo, essentially). but i'm sure that's part of the calculation.

all things considered, that does seem like the best option out of all the alternatives. it allows them to not completely abandon any of the pans they have simmering over the fire for the time being. i don't think i ever thought they were going to just say "oops, forget about the streaming thing! let's pretend that never happened!" because at this point they've invested quite a lot of time and money into it, and i don't disagree that keeping it in some iteration may help them make up some of the funds they're lacking.

i would say, it's fine to keep the streamer. this is one of the ok outcomes, all things considered-- but if they're going to do it, they've GOT to do it smart from this point forward. listen to both the fans and the consultants intimately. both are going to have valid points, and both are going to be right. listening to too much of either side will sink this thing because each has motives and expertise that the other doesn't. if the fans say $6 is too much, listen to them-- but have conversations with business consultants about how much you realistically need to charge to make things work.

also, i'd use this whole situation as a learning experience. watcher is a young company, and it's literally inevitable that mistakes will happen. what's different is that the watcher crew haven't really been in a position before where they've been on the receiving end of the internet-angry-justice-hammer to this extent. it's one thing to watch it happen to others, but it's a position of extreme privilege (and a bit of hubris) to think "but that won't happen to me, because i'm built different." naw, man-- two things in life are inevitable: death and fuckups. the callout posts get us all in the end.

what's really important is that they use this as a wakeup call that even the most loyal fandoms will only follow you so far to the cliff's edge, and you don't want to push that. you have to strike a balance between the passion projects that you think are worthy and the stuff that maybe doesn't excite you as much anymore but the people want to see. a little fanservice keeps the lights on, as unfair as that might seem. i'm gonna make 50 markiplier choccy milk memes just so i can make one niche political joke once and a while for 6 likes. it is what it is.

i'd also use this as a chance to take a very careful look at company structure and finances. it's not fun to do and nobody likes it. trust me-- this is hard whether you're a single adult trying to pay the bills or the freaking US government (speaking from experience on both-- i have to read the president's budget for work frequently). but you all have to ask hard questions about the ratio of creative staff you take on VS staff for administrative and other business roles, as well as the costs and benefits of everything you spend money on. how many staff members are essential to location shoots? can this video be shot with 2 cameras instead of 3 and thus you don't need another cameraperson? you might even have to come to the decision that instead of pitching a new show it makes more sense to use those funds to hire your essential non-creative roles or contract firms or freelancers.

paying staff a fair wage with benefits speaks highly of what watcher wants their values to be. it's hard to find such a position in a creative role and still actually get to work on things you care about. but it would be much worse if watcher didn't make realistic decisions about finances and it lead to the death of the company and everyone losing their jobs. the whole watcher company can work, in my opinion, but not without some sacrifices. they're going to have to run it more like a business and less like a youtube-channel-turned-business in the future if they want to survive.

last thing i'll add is that while i do think this was a good apology video, i still think they hurt themselves by not putting out some sort of statement on Friday or Saturday just to say that they were formulating a response. As i've said in other posts, it's ok and in fact beneficial to not make a kneejerk reaction, but it's also very important to communicate that you SEE what's happening. you SEE what people are saying and THAT'S why you need more time to respond. saying nothing and leaving the angry public to wonder if you dropped your phone off the Hoover Dam or just don't care? that's a fumble. it's a common mistake companies make in a crisis, but that doesn't mean it doesn't erode trust fast.

this could have been handled better in many ways. we see that, and i'm glad watcher says they see that too. crucial going forward is taking all this and patching the errors that caused all this to fall apart and learning from the experience.

tbh at this point what i'm most sad about is that the watcher crew have probably been too stressed out and upset to appreciate some of the absolute bangers people have been laying down to clown on them. i think if it wasn't about them they might be touched by the collective attitude and creative spirit. /j

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 6)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: possessiveness, manipulation, Joel gets mean, Joel gets verbally and physically abusive.⚠️

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 6 (5.8k)

It’s two weeks into the New Year and you’ve been spending every day plotting and planning how to keep away from Joel. It’s not easy, especially since you don’t even have a bedroom door to keep his wandering eyes from staring at you while you get ready in the mornings, as he stands in the hallway in overbearing silence. Your task was made even tougher when Tess said he wouldn’t allow you to leave the house anymore for your daily chores. 

You’re stuck inside this dusty old prison all day, awaiting his return. The day might go as usual and he’ll threaten to force feed you at meal time. Maybe it will be another glorious day of him digging bruises into your arms or throwing you against walls. What if he really changed things up and grunted all sorts of fucked up things in your ear while you brushed your teeth? Oh wait, he already does that.

As snarky as you try to be about it – lamenting your life as you drape yourself over the couch, passing the hours in silence and slowly going mad – the whole situation really stresses you out. You weigh your feelings of safety and security in this community with the vicious and unpredictable behavior you’ve been enduring in this house. Is it still worth it to stay here? Are you better off in The Valley or would you be better off out there, alone in the wilderness? You’re on edge all the time, never sure what’s going to set him off. You spend so much time thinking about him, every moment you’re awake really, just so you can try to avoid him as much as possible. 

He used to be on your mind all the time, thinking about his body on yours, the warmth of his skin under your hands. You’d fantasize about a future with him and what that might be like, letting him protect you and take care of you. Now you think about if you’re always going to be this hurt by his duplicity, feel this raw about his deception. Deep down, in a place you don’t like to acknowledge, you still wonder if there’s any future for the two of you. You push that thought away to compose a plan for how to stay out of his way when he gets home for the day.

And yet, every night at dinner you sit right next to him, unable to escape, watching out of your peripheral vision as he stares you down with a hateful look in his eyes. There was a time when you thought that the scariest thing he could do was touch you without your permission. But now he touches you every day – with open palms and closed fists, clutching fingers and rough grips. You never even considered these kinds of touches as an option from the man who used to be so gentle and tender with you. That man is gone. 

This day, however, looks like it might turn out alright when Sasha and Tess return shortly before sunset from a scavenging trip they made to a family lodge situated on a rocky outcropping a few hours hike west of The Valley. They pile their haul on the dining room table, emptying out packs and bags they came back with stuffed full, and a stack of books catches your eye.

“Who are these for?”

“Anyone,” Sasha answers while sorting the clothes by size into neatly folded piles. ���There were a bunch in a makeshift library up there but most of the collection was damaged by water and mildew. There were only a few we could salvage.”

You stand still, staring at the books, not wanting to pilfer something that Tess and Sasha worked hard to collect for the entire Valley. Tess sees you hesitating and pushes the stack towards you.

“Go ahead, look through ‘em and read any you want,” she shrugs. “When you’re done we can put ‘em back in the community library.”

You lift the first book up, going through the stack slowly, not recognizing any titles. The first two are young adult books, their covers adorned with pennants for their high school team and smiling teens talking on the phone. The third is the 1994 National Electric Code Handbook and the fourth is a non-fiction book on the Native American tribes that once inhabited New England. But the fifth one makes you stop in your tracks. 

The fifth book is your favorite book.

You turn it over in your hands, its dust jacket long since removed. The faded red hardcover is soft with wear, but the simple tree in gold foil on the front is still gleaming. The Secret Garden. Your eyes begin to sting as you recall the places your imagination used to take you to when you read this story, wishing as a child that you had a secret garden of your own to find, hide away in, and restore to glory. You kind of wish you had one now.

“You read that one?” Sasha calls over her growing piles.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “It’s my favorite book.” You look up and meet her face, tears in your eyes. But she’s not looking at you. She’s looking past you, face solemn. Your smile disappears as you slowly turn around, already knowing what you’re going to see. You don’t look at his face. You don’t meet his eyes. You take trembling breaths as your eyes fall on the center of his chest, less than a foot distance between you. Joel.

Favorite book you’d said. Just like that. Offered it up like the most casual thing in the world. But would you tell him when he asked? Of course not. He gave you so much. He gave you food and shelter. He told you about himself – shit, he even told you about Sarah. But you wouldn’t tell him about a stupid fucking book, wouldn’t give him your fucking name, even after all this time. Wouldn’t give him what he needed. 

You. He needed you. 

You withholding little bitch. 

He grabs the book out of your hands, turning it to read the title on the spine. 

“Look at me,” he demands.

You don’t.

He doesn’t ask again. He lifts the book to your eye line, grabbing a chunk of pages in his right hand and yanking them out of the spine. He holds his hand up and releases the pages, letting them flutter to the ground, single sheets and some clusters still bound together covering your socked feet. The tears collecting at your waterline spill over and you let out a quiet whimper. He shoves the carcass of the book back into your hands and walks out of the room, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Tess follows him, pushing open the closing door of his office behind him. 

“Why’d you do that to her?” she asks, stepping into the darkening room, the short winter day having just seen the sun set.

“Don’t give her any more books,” he snaps, ignoring her question.

“You made her cry–”

“Oh boo-fuckin’-hoo, she’s always cryin’.” Her eyes are adjusting to the dark and she sees him moving across the room.

“Joel–”

“No more books,” he shouts, turning to stomp back to where she stands. “She has a fuckin’ book and it’s out there sittin’ on the mantle,” he points at the wall, momentarily acknowledging the book he pretends he hasn’t seen remain untouched since Christmas, everytime he walks through the goddamn room.

Tess holds her hands up in defeat and backs out of the room, leaving him alone to pace and grumble to himself. She decides to make a plan that night, determined to find a way to snap Joel out of it and keep you safe in the meantime.

–

Alone again, Joel feels himself thickening in his pants and he wants to scream, wants to put his fist through the wall. He wants to shake you and slap you and squeeze you and make you look at him like you did before. You won’t look at him at all. Why won’t you fucking look at him? 

There’s no moon in the night sky so even with multiple windows in this room it remains quite dark. He rounds his desk, bumping his hip into the corner as he throws himself into his chair. He pulls open a bottom desk drawer and withdraws an item he’s kept hidden under a pile of maps: a pair of your underwear. He remembers the night he took them, the week before everything went to shit. Before you looked at him like everyone else. Before you broke yourself open for him. Before his true self was revealed to you. 

Before you hated him.

He shucks his jeans open and reaches into his pants, his dick already hard. He spits into his hand and begins stroking up and down, bringing your underwear to his face and taking deep inhales, setting a fast pace. As he takes whiffs, he opens his mouth, letting the heady scent of you permeate all his senses, rolling his eyes back into his head. He thinks about that night he pulled these down your legs, how you looked on all fours bared open for him and the way you rolled your hips, moaning his name. He thinks about what you tasted like when you came on his face.

He hisses, squeezing hard at the base of his shaft, suddenly aware that he’s about to come much too quickly. He slams the underwear down on the desk, cursing that he lets you affect him like this. He’s barely touched himself these past weeks, getting too angry every time he thinks about you and how badly he wants you, how you won’t give him what he wants. He’s neglected the aching hardness he awakes with each morning and ignored the other women knocking on his bedroom door at night, knowing it isn’t you on the other side. You won’t give him what he needs.

He wraps his hand around his shaft and resumes stroking, slowly this time, staring at the underwear he’d stuck in his back pocket after you begged him to take them off and keened when his mouth touched you. His eyes have adjusted to the dim room and he thinks he can see a stain on the gusset, reaching forward to brush his thumb along the fabric. His calloused finger scrapes across the dried remnants of your arousal and he groans loudly, squeezing his cock firmly again, willing himself not to come yet.

He watches his hand continue slow movements on his length, rolling his fingers along the underside of his head, over the tip, gathering the precum there to swirl and spread on his downward strokes. Why the fuck does he let you do this to him? Why does he let you get in his fucking head? He can’t control himself, he’s losing his goddamn mind. He should go back out there and grab you by the hair, drag you in here, and remind you how lucky you are to be here.

He looks over at the couch he used to sit with you on. He should throw you over that couch, pull your pants down past your ass and fuck you from behind. He’d grab the books he’d read to you off the shelf and smack your ass with them, listen to you cry out and whimper, hear your growing wetness as his cock pounds your perfect, willing pussy. He’d make you grovel for his forgiveness, make you beg him to let you come. He’d make you thank him for your Christmas gift. He’d make you fucking look at him.

That’s what he’d do. 

He’d grab your face and make you look him in his eyes while you came, feeling the spasming walls of your cunt around him. He’d keep fucking into you, listening to you wail through your orgasm, watching your eyes roll back and your face go slack. He’d make you watch his cock disappearing inside you, covered with your creamy arousal as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. The place he earned. The place you refuse to give him. He grabs the underwear off the desk and wraps them around his length, increasing his pace again. 

The only sounds in the room are his panting breaths and the thumps of his fist hitting his pelvis with force as he pumps himself over and over. His head is thrown back when he feels the familiar tension in his balls and he brings his chin to his chest to watch his release darken the fabric covering his cockhead. He pulls your underwear off him with one hand and continues to jerk himself with the other, pressing himself down, aiming it so the white ropes pumping out of him cover the stolen garment. His breath hitches in his throat with short, desperate gasps as he squeezes the last of his climax into the cloth.

He clenches his hand around the underwear, letting his spend press between his fingers and run down his fist, dripping onto his denim-covered knees. What a fucking waste. Your denial, your refusal, your goddamn obstinance. Look where it gets him – coming into his hand like a pitiful virgin, as if he can’t get a woman of his own to fuck him. How dare you treat him like this, withhold yourself from him, have him resorting to these degrading acts. 

You seem to forget how good you have it in the safety of his dominion, protected under his watchful eye. Maybe you forgot how ugly the world is out there, how cruel people can be. How many people in this world would kill to be in your place? How many women here in The Valley wish they were you, fortunate enough to be the object of his desire? You’re so fucking ungrateful. You need a lesson in how to behave, how to be more appreciative of him. You need to learn some loyalty.

–

The following Thursday you’re facing the front door, bundling up your coat for the walk to the meeting and waiting for Joel to come out of his office to walk with you since you’re not allowed to leave the house without him. You hear the door open but don’t look back until you hear an unexpected noise in the form of a female voice. Kerri is walking with him through the living room. They were in his office together. 

It’s fine, you don’t care. You’re not jealous. You have no claim over him. He’s not yours. You don’t want him. He does whatever he wants and you can’t control it. So let him have it his way, you don’t care.

You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye but you don’t dare turn your head. You won’t give him the satisfaction. Behind you, you think you hear Kerri getting her coat and shoes on as well. Tess is wiping down the dinner table and sees the group of you gathered at the door.

“Kerri, where are you goin’, hon?”

“She’s coming to the meeting with me,” Joel answers for her. He said me, not us. Like you weren’t even there. You let a scowl take over your face. He’s being such an asshole. Tess doesn’t question him, probably for the best. You hear him huff out a laugh.

You look his way and see the smug grin on his face as he opens the front door and motions for you to go out of it. You don’t let it bother you. It’s fine that he’s bringing Kerri to this meeting even though Thursdays are supposed to be your meeting nights. It’s fine that they walk hand-in-hand behind you on the walk to and from the meeting. It’s also fine that he ordered her to sit in your usual seat next to him at the meeting and for you to sit on the other side of the room instead.

He doesn’t try to put his hands on you, he doesn’t chase you up the stairs. It’s fine. It’s what you wanted. You’re glad for it. So then why do you feel like your insides are on fire and you’re fighting the urge to spill them all over the ground? Back at the house Joel and Kerri head towards his office so you go to the kitchen to get some water and get away from them.

Moments later they’re coming into the kitchen and you hate the way your stomach rolls at the sight of them. Out of the corner of your eye you see her reach into the cupboard for a glass and you watch him push her against the counter, pressing himself into her ass. You just know he’s digging his erection into her. He used to do that to you. You used to like it.

A shiver goes through your body and you almost drop your glass, but as you recover you see in your peripheral vision that he’s watching you. Is he doing this to get a reaction from you? Is he waiting for you to cry again? You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Goodnight, Kerri,” you say as you turn quickly and head out of the kitchen.

He grabs you before you can even make it through the dining room.

“Not gonna say goodnight to me?” He digs his fingers into the tender underside of your upper arm. 

You hiss quietly in pain.

“You should know better than to be so rude,” he spits, bringing his face within inches of your own. “Seems like I need to teach you some fuckin’ manners.” 

He lifts his other hand and swats your ass, laughing when you yelp in surprise.

“Well, I’m gonna go to bed,” Kerri says in the doorway.

She might as well be invisible for how Joel completely ignores her while he swats at you a few more times, mumbling how you’re such an ungrateful little cunt in your ear. You try to wriggle away and push him back but his grip only tightens. You’re reminded of a blood pressure cuff, the pressure and pain with which his hand cinches around you. 

Has he been playing this charade with Kerri all night just to get a rise out of you? Was he always like this? You thought he was a good man; compassionate, hospitable, affectionate,  genuine. Did he only show you enough of himself to lure you, to make you trust him? Was he lying the whole time about his true intentions? Were you really that gullible? God… he’s so fucking manipulative. 

You don’t know what you’re thinking but the throbbing in your arm has your free hand scrabbling to get away and before you can measure the consequences of your actions, your open hand slaps across his face. Joel relaxess his grip on your arm immediately, the shock evident on his face, but before you can wrench yourself completely free of his hold, he throws you across the top of the table.

You come crashing down over the other edge, your limbs flailing and knocking over a chair on the way down. Before you can steady yourself enough to stand up on your own, he’s come around the table and put his hands on you again, lifting and shoving you against the front wall. Each hand grips your arm above the elbow, bracing your shoulder blades hard against the wall. His face comes to your neck and you feel him inhaling, feel his moist breath huffing against you, feel his stubble scraping you, feel his tongue dragging along you.

“Why the fuck are you making such a big deal of this bullshit, baby?” he coos. “The world ended. None of that old nonsense matters anymore.” He moves one hand up to your jaw, gripping your face hard.

“It matters to me,” you squeak through gritted teeth.

“All that matters to you is me, you understand?” He holds you so firmly that you can’t open your mouth to speak or even shake your head in response. “This is all that matters.” He begins to place gentle kisses along your pulse point, in opposition to the crushing embrace he’s got you in.

Eventually he loosens his grip on your jaw and, without hesitation, you take your free arm and place it over his sternum, shoving him backwards as hard as you can. Shock is quickly replaced by anger on his face. You hold your hands out in front of you, distracting him enough to stop his advancing aggression. You gather courage from somewhere deep inside you, lashing out for his callous disregard of you all night followed by this gaslighting manipulation.

“I’m so tired of you spouting your bullshit dogma just to try and get me to fuck you,” you seethe.

He raises his hand like he’s going to slap you but when you hold your head up, somehow managing not to flinch, he doesn’t follow through. Instead he lowers his hand to shove a single finger in your face.

“You think I want to fuck you?,” he bellows, “I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to think about you every fucking second of every fucking day.” He reaches forward and grabs the flesh at your hips. You side-step out of his clutch and take a few steps towards the stairs before he grabs you by the wrist and holds it tight. “Do you see how fucking weak you make me?”

You walk backwards, trying to put distance between you but his wrap around your wrist is firm.

“You’re hurting me, Joel,” you mutter. He doesn’t let go.

“Look at me,” he orders. “Fucking look at me, goddamnit.”

You don’t.

Something inside him snaps. He yanks you closer with the hand around your wrist and pulls your body against his so that his chest is to your back, snaking his arms around you and cinching them tight. He scrapes his stubble hard along your neck and buries his nose in your hair, taking several deep inhales and groaning in between breaths. 

His lower arm bands across your hips, digging into your soft flesh there while his other arm loosens and moves its way up your front. He grabs one of your breasts tight in his hand and presses his erection against your backside. You’re constricted tight, arms trapped as well, and unable to move away from him. You manage a breathy exhale of his name, meant to serve as a plea, but it can barely be heard.

“You can’t get away from me,” he growls in your ear. “You can never get away from me.”

He goes back to holding you with both arms, wrapped so tight that he knows it’s probably hurting you. You’re clearly struggling to breathe and even your feeble wriggling feels futile. Then he looks down and notices your struggling movements have shifted your sweater to expose the top of your shoulder. He recalls the mark he once sucked into your skin there, and the way it stayed on you for weeks. You need another reminder of who you belong to.

He moves his mouth to that same spot, baring his teeth, and bites into your flesh. Hard. 

He barely hears your screaming over the pounding of his pulse in his ears, his own ragged and panting breaths, his drawn out, animalistic moan. Suddenly there’s tugging on his arms and he looks up to see Tess’ wide eyes staring at him, mouth moving. She must be saying something but he can’t make it out. Someone is yanking at his shirtsleeve on his other side and when he turns his head, teeth bared in a snarl, he sees Kerri recoil in horror. 

Tess punches at his arms, claws at his neck, and tugs on his hair, finally managing to get him to loosen his arms enough to free you. She yanks you away from him and as she pulls you up the stairs you see him watching you from the bottom, eyes black, hair a mess, your blood dripping down the corners of his mouth. Tess drags you down the hall into her room, locking the door behind her. She puts a chair under the doorknob and tends to your wound with a first aid kit stashed under her bed. 

She lets you sleep in her room that night. Joel doesn’t come for you.

–

The next evening you’re standing in the shadows behind the old ice skating rink, which is used as makeshift stables during The Valley’s Friday evening events. It’s off the main road, set back in the woods a bit, but you have a pretty good view of the town square from here. You can see people coming and going, see Joel shaking hands with them all, nodding while they talk to him but looking over their heads, probably searching for you. 

“You’re gonna catch a cold.” You nearly jump out of your skin at Tess’ words. You didn’t even hear her coming. “I told you to wait inside.”

“It smells like horseshit in there. Besides, I’ve got this,” you say pointing to the knit scarf around your neck. 

She just nods, knowing you have a scarf because she’s the one who put it on you. She helped you get cleaned and dressed for tonight since you spent all day in her room hiding from Joel. She looks you over once you’re all dressed and then you both look at the bandage she has taped at your shoulder, peeking out from under your shirt collar. She grabs the scarf out of her drawer and circled it around you several times, tucking the ends into your coat.

“Do you know Beth?” Tess asks abruptly.

“Beth?”

“Yeah, Beth,” she continues. “Short brown hair, she lives with Hank Mansfield’s family, down at the dairy farm.”

“Oh, Beth. Yeah, she comes with Hank to the Thursday night meetings,” you nod.

“Exactly. She used to be a seamstress,” Tess adds. “Did you know that?”

“No, I don’t think we’ve talked much.” You know you haven’t talked much because you spent most of the Thursday meetings staring at Joel’s lips and waiting for them to be planted on yours. 

“She makes all her own clothes. She’s been helping the Mansfield’s too. I think she could help here in town if she lived closer.”

“Yeah I bet,” you reply.

“I was thinkin’, maybe you and her could trade rooms,” Tess answers your unspoken question.

“Trade rooms?”

“Yeah… she could have your room and you could go help out at the farm.”

“The fa–” you begin to question when her meaning hits you like a fist to the gut. You turn to look at her, a pinching pain behind your eyes, panic obvious on your face. “You want me to leave?”

“No, of course I don’t want that,” Tess immediately replies in a soothing voice. “I just think Beth could really help out here in town, but she’d need a room. And I thought maybe you might be willing to give yours up.”

“Give it up? I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you don’t have to live in that house if you don’t want to,” she nods towards the big house you share on the other side of the square. “It’s your choice. You can live anywhere you want.”

That doesn’t seem true. You don’t live at Joel’s house because you chose it. You live there because he invited you. He asked you. He chose you. You didn’t feel like you could say no and you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t let you choose somewhere else, especially not now.

“I don’t think he’d–,”

“No, it’s not his choice,” she interrupts you and repeats, “It’s your choice.”

“It is?”

“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “You could give Beth your room so she’d be able to help us here in town and you’d get a room at the Mansfield’s. You’d be able to help milk the cows. I hear a couple of them are pregnant, so there’d be babies this spring – get yourself a little change of scenery….”

Tess doesn’t want to seem like she’s overselling it but she really hopes the promise of baby animals tips this in her favor. She hopes that she’s getting the message across without having to say the actual words. I need to take you away from him, PJ. He’s going to keep hurting you, PJ. I’m trying to save you, PJ. She wants you to think that this was your idea, but mostly she needs you to agree to this. Right now.

“It’s far away though, isn’t it?” you say, staring in the direction of the town square now, where Joel is no doubt shirking his duties and obsessively searching for you. 

“It’s far enough,” she replies, letting the implication remain unspoken.

“I– I think he’d be mad,” you whisper.

“It’s not up to him. It’s up to you,” she nods, a soft smile on her face when you meet her eyes again. Please, she pleads silently. “What do you want, PJ? Do you want to help me out? Give Beth your room?”

A long moment of silence passes, breaking eye contact and looking down at your feet shuffling them several times before looking back at Tess, a hint of sadness in your eyes, a touch of defeat.

“I– I could do that, yeah.”

“Great! That’s great,” Tess exhales, unable to mask her relief. She quickly reels back her emotions and expresses simple and stoic gratitude, as if it’s a run-of-the-mill thing that’s just been agreed to – no big deal. “Thank you PJ, that’s really nice of you.”

–

Joel stands next to Sasha, her cold hand clutched in his warm one, looking around the square. He’s waiting for everyone else to meet them in front of the bakery so they can all walk home together. He sees Tess coming down the sidewalk, walking towards him with someone who isn’t you. You must be with Rosie and Kerri.

“Joel, you remember Beth, right?” Tess asks him when she comes to a halt at his side, “Lives with the Mansfield’s out at the dairy farm?”

“Of course,” he nods his head, barely looking in their direction. “Hank’s daughter. Hi, Beth.”

“She’s not Hank’s daughter,” Tess corrects. Joel finally looks at them, giving Tess most of his attention and Beth a quick glance. “Beth has just been livin’ at the farm since she came into town with Olivier and his wife, from the Montreal Safe Zone?”

“Oh, sure,” Joel says, as if this isn’t brand new information, “That’s what I meant.” And his attention is diverted once again, scanning the park across the street, looking at the departing crowds from the night of fun festivities.

“She’s a seamstress, did you know that?”

Joel doesn’t even bother responding this time. Why would he know that Beth was a fuckin’ seamstress? Why would he have ever talked about that with Beth? He doesn’t think he’s ever talked to Beth about anything at all. Why would he fuckin’ care? He vaguely hears Tess saying something about staying with us a while and he hums in acknowledgement. Why is Tess bothering him with all this stupid fuckin’ information? He’s obviously busy looking for you. 

His head on a swivel he sees Rosie and Kerri approaching from the other side of town. Wait, where are you? You were supposed to be with…

With Tess. You were with Tess. He turns to look Tess square in the eyes now. She has his full attention.

“Where is she?” he fumes.

“Like I was saying, Beth is a seamstress and she needed a room–”

“Who?” Joel sputters, not comprehending the words coming out of her mouth.

“Beth,” Tess repeats, motioning to the woman standing silently beside her. Beth waves awkwardly.

Joel whips himself around and takes off towards the house, dragging Sasha alongside him, not even fully realizing her hand is still clutched tight in his. He bursts in the door and lets go of Sasha, taking the stairs two at a time and entering the small, darkened room at the top of the stairs with no door. The sheets and blanket are fresh and crisp, the bed is neatly made. Five hangars swing empty from the curtain rod at the window, a half moon shining behind some scattered clouds and casting dim light through the sheer curtains. 

He touches the empty bedside table. It used to be covered with books, leaves, and rocks you found interesting in shape or color. Things you collected when you walked together. Things you collected when you walked alone, after you stopped looking at him. Things that proved you were still here. That you were still his. Now they’re gone. You’re gone. Tess took you away. 

He comes down the stairs slowly, Sasha standing just inside the dining room rubbing her wrist, the other women coming in the door. Tess stands at the bottom of the stairs with that girl whos’ not you at her side – Beth.

“What the fuck did you do?” Joel seethes. He reaches the last step and looks across the living room, his eye catching on the spine of the book he gave on Christmas, sitting on the fireplace mantle. It’s still here. You’re not.

“Beth needed–” Tess is cut off by a palm striking across her face.

She can’t say she wasn’t expecting a bad reaction from him, but she would have braced herself better if she knew it was coming right then. The slap sends her tipping sideways and she thinks she might even fall down except that Joel grabs the front of her shirt with both hands, keeping her from landing on the ground. He barks for everyone to go to bed and Tess watches Beth’s horrified face as Sasha takes her hand and pulls her up the stairs.

Tess knows he’s not done. She knows he’s going to keep going, keep hitting her, keep blaming her. She’s going to look like she got kicked by a horse tomorrow but it was worth it. He’s not hitting you. She can take it. She’s taken it before, from men with quick tempers. Joel will get his venom out tonight and tomorrow he’ll be remorseful and apologetic. Soon enough he’ll detox from you and eventually he’ll emerge from the haze, able to see clearly again. He’ll get his head on straight and be able to deal with things rationally. 

At least that’s what she hopes. Everything depends on her being right. If he keeps going down the path he’s on now, she thinks this whole place – and everyone in it – is doomed.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, and for both fully understanding and appreciating my direction with these two. 🫂You work so hard (for free) and I appreciate everything you do.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog

[whetstonefires]

Hello! For the reverse tropes writing prompts (if this catches your fancy) — murderbot diaries with fake amnesia and Really nice guy who hates only you

this is really not in the spirit of that second inverse trope, but for mb this was the only thing i could think of, and it was very funny.

=

"Gurathin," said Gurathin. "SecUnit, you know it's me."

"I don't think I know that," it said, pleasantly, in an okay but not excellent imitation of its creepy canned dialogue options. "Please present some identification, and we'll see."

Gurathin didn't bother sending his data over the feed again. Murderbot walked away, but left a drone eyeballing him. He resisted the urge to flip the drone off. "Come on," he told it, knowing SecUnit was paying attention. "Let me in."

He watched the SecUnit bend forward slightly to show two of Mensah's kids that it was paying attention to whatever they were saying, and then bend over further to help the toddler up onto a chair. It was just fucking with him now. On the other hand, if the prickly bastard started letting children hug it just to piss off Gurathin, who was the real loser?

It finished spoiling the children and moved over to smoothly de-escalate a brewing disagreement over the punch bowl. Gurathin tried to catch Pin-Lee's eye; she did not cooperate. Gurathin tried to walk through the open door; the hovering security drone took a potshot at him.

SecUnit got roped into conversation with Bharadwaj and her media colleagues. It said something that made everyone laugh. It wasn't scowling. It was faking looking people in the face pretty well; that was just creepy.

It went on like that; Gurathin had never seen it go this long interacting without pissing someone off. Presumably it was venting all of that impulse on him. Ratthi introduced it to his favorite cousin; zi was visibly charmed.

Gurathin goaded the drone into firing two more warning shots before the SecUnit circulated back over to him.

"SecUnit. Come on. You have known me for actual years. I helped you rob a place once."

"I don't recall."

"We met on that planetary survey mission, don't tell me you don't remember that one, it's the reason you're even here." That came out maybe a little harsh, but everyone was letting the SecUnit abuse the power of being entrusted with party security to bully him, he was allowed to be annoyed.

"Oh, were you there? That data must have been lost in a corrupted filetree," it said, with incredibly cutting blandness.

Gurathin groaned. "Okay! Okay. I'm sorry."

It technically counted as a reward when SecUnit stopped giving him the customer service face and switched to the hairy eyeball, which just showed how stupid this whole situation was. It was clearly not satisfied with just that.

"I'm sorry for using your personal name without permission. I wasn't trying to weaponize it or anything, it just slipped out, but I know that's not an excuse and it was a really inappropriate disrespect for your boundaries."

SecUnit kept looking at him. Gurathin knew two other SecUnits now, neither of whom was as supremely weird as this one; that was why he'd started mentally tagging it with its personal name, just to keep things tidy. Of course, if anyone else had done that and made the resulting mistake, SecUnit probably wouldn't have been half so mad.

Gurathin sagged.

"I'm sorry for going through your personal files and using your name against you back during the survey," he mumbled, wishing he kept drones around to control with his brain so he could watch SecUnit's extremely expressive face without having to look at it. "That was really shitty. Rim paranoia isn't a good enough excuse for refusing to see you as anything but a tool of the Company. Okay?"

SecUnit was looking as pained as though Gurathin had stripped naked in its presence. "Yes, fine, you can come to the party just stop having feelings," it said, in its normal voice.

"Great!" said Gurathin. "The spinach puffs had better not be all gone."

"I don't pay any attention to the things humans consume," it said, moving out of his way and taking its drone with it.

"I know," Gurathin acknowledged, rolling his eyes and trooping after it. Ratthi waved enthusiastically at him and Pin-Lee raised her cup in a welcoming toast. Apparently SecUnit's relenting returned him to the ranks of people who existed again. "Believe me, I remember this about you."

[judasgot-it]

hi! May i request tecchou and chuuya when s/o takes care of them after they were discharged from the hospital because after a mission, they were quite injured (idk if discharged it’s understandable, I used google translate but I hope you could understand me)

First time writing Chuuya, I don't know if I did him right so please tell me if I did him ok? (Also don't worry, your English is fine <3)

Scenario: Taking care of you after getting injured (Tecchou, Chuuya)

Tecchou

"Oh, let me get that for you."

Your hand had dropped your hairbrush again. It was the 3rd time since you started, and you were beginning to get frustrated.

You didn't say anything though, just reaching your arm out so you could try again. It was difficult, trying to even wrap all of your fingers around the handle. But you managed, forcing yourself to place the bristles through your strands of hair, slowly dragging it through the knots that had formed throughout the week.

"Do you want me to do it for you?"

Tecchou was still behind you, watching you through the mirror as you struggled to brush your hair. You were going at an agonizingly slow pace, but you still persisted.

"No. I have to do this, remember?"

You were frustrated with the situation but what could you do about it - your arm was temporarily paralyzed, and your only option was to keep using it until you gained full control of it back.

You were just glad you still had it, as you were only inches away from having it blown off. This was really child's play for what you usually faced.

"I can help with this. You deserve a little break."

You made eye contact with him in the mirror, seeing him give you a little smile. He reached over and brushed some of your tangled hair with his fingers, careful to avoid the scabs hiding in your scalp.

For the past week, you've refused to let him touch it, only brushing it yourself so you could get control of your hand again. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you couldn't brush it as finely as you did before your injury. It's become a bit of a rat's nest, but you stayed stubborn.

You were a Hunting Dog, which meant that you had no choice but to get better as soon as possible. Your job didn't allow for vacations.

But maybe you wanted to feel spoiled for a bit. Doctor's orders be damned.

Sighing, you handed him the brush, moving to sit down on the toilet. You forced yourself to push the seat down with your arm, flexing your fingers as much as they allowed.

Tecchou said nothing, instead bending over and putting the brush to your hair. He was as gentle as possible, which was odd for the man - usually, he would attack something like this with maximum proficiency. Which meant a lot of pulling and tugging on your poor scalp.

It was relaxing, having him take the brush through your hair. One of his hands gently guided your head around, allowing him to easily move the brush throughout your hair, You let your eyes close, letting him treat you like an expensive doll.

This felt like a small slice of heaven right now.

"Thank you for saving me on the last mission."

You nodded, your head falling into his chest. You admittedly didn't want to get up, feeling your shoulders fall as you felt the bristles brush against the back of your neck.

"You've already thanked me. It's not that big of a deal, you know this is our job."

Tecchou hummed. He set the brush aside, moving your shoulders so he could look at you. You forced your head up, looking up into his honey eyes.

"Yes. But this feels different somehow."

You snorted. You fell back into his chest, pulling him close to you. His shirt was soft and stretched across his back, which made you realize this may have been an awkward position for him.

"So what if I want to protect my boyfriend, is that so wrong?"

You felt a hum in his chest, warming you on the inside. He put his cheek on top of your head, thinking.

"I suppose not. Just don't die ok?"

If he hugged you tighter while saying that, you didn't tease him. You just enjoyed his warmth for the moment, feeling close.

Chuuya

"Please don't ever do that again."

You were sitting in the park, watching as Chuuya brought both of your orders to your little park bench. He looked exasperated, looking at you from underneath his mop of hair.

He had ran from the nearby sandwich shop, just to find you sitting at a nearby park bench.

"Do what? I can't go that far Chuuya."

You had only walked about a couple meters away - nothing worth worrying about. Barely even out of sight.

"Don't get snappy with me your highness. I'm the one looking out for you while you're out of commission."

You looked at him as you took the brown bag out of his hands. Reaching in, you took out your food, looking to start your meal.

"Oopsie."

You gave a smile as Chuuya growled a little, biting his sandwich a little too aggressively. Riling him up had become a bit of a hobby of yours, seeing as it was all in good fun.

There wasn't anything else to do anyway, as you were forced to stand by until your ribs were completely healed. It was great, taking the time off and spending time with Chuuya. Just sucked being in pain nearly 24/7.

Even in your sleep, you couldn't catch a break. Everything hurt, so you really did appreciate Chuuya's company.

"So what'd you order? It smells really good."

You started to eat your own food, but you were eyeing his like a starving dog. Slowly, he inched away from you on the bench, holding his sandwich out of your reach.

"No way. I already paid for your lunch and now you want to eat mine? What more do you want from me?"

You smiled, like a strange little caracal. Your plastic fork waved around in your mouth as you spoke with it still there, with no regard to manners.

"I don't know. Saving people from falling out of a burning building usually comes with big rewards. Maybe I should get a kiss on the lips too and a big thank you."

Chuuya looked at you wide-eyed, stopping for a second. He was stunned at your offer, his face having a small blush.

Before he let out a large laugh, his ass almost slipping onto the concrete below.

"Do you really want that?"

He was smiling wide, his ocean eyes crinkling with him. His face was inching closer toward yours as he said this.

You looked at him, trying to gain your bearings as he put his hand underneath your chin and kissed you, lingering for a moment. You could feel his smile as he stayed there, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Then he pulled away, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

"Oh thank you so much Y/n. For saving me out of a burning building, and then breaking three of your ribs. You really are a hero, you know that?"

You looked at him, still blushing from his kiss. Then you snapped out of it, looking out to the park.

"Of course I am. I would do anything for a pretty damsel in distress, you know?"

You looked back towards him, biting your lip a little as chewed on his food. You were trying not to laugh, as it would have been extremely painful.

Chuuya reached over and pat your thigh, comforting you. You took a moment to catch your breath, still smiling despite the pain you were in.

"Could that pretty damsel please give you another kiss? I think you still need to feel my gratitude."

You smiled, carefully scooting closer toward him. You pat your lips, looking at him expectantly.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"You suck Y/n."

"And you swallow, Chuuya."

The ginger simply rolled his eyes and took your lips again, carefully taking your chin in his hand.

I haven't written for Chuuya yet so this was a challenge! But I love it when ppl request cuz this account really helps encourage me to write

[666writingcafe]

Quick Strategy

After hiding in a side corridor and giving the spider the slip, I'm able to properly assess everyone's emotions. I'm more or less calm, Asmo's freaking out, Lucifer's over it, and MC...

For once, I can't read them.

"We need to figure out a way to soothe this beast," Lucifer remarks quietly. "Otherwise, we're not getting out of here alive."

"And how are we supposed to do that?!" Asmo exclaims, causing MC to hush him for being too loud. "We don't have anything at our disposal!"

"That's not entirely true," MC replies.

"What do you even mean, Zephyr? Of course it's true!"

"Your charm. It's tied to your demonic power."

"But I've never charmed an animal! At least, not on purpose! Besides, I've not dealt with something this huge before. I don't think I'm powerful enough to stop a giant spider in its tracks."

"Maybe not on your own, but if your power is combined with someone else's, then you'll be able to calm this spider down, and we can go home." Is MC doing what I think they're doing?

"How do we go about doing that?" Lucifer sighs.

"Unfortunately, the quickest and most painless way would be for you to make a pact with Solomon," he answers. "From what I've heard, he's powerful enough to draw out and enhance your demonic power." I never thought I'd see the day. Lucifer actually agreeing with me about pacts?

Granted, he's not the one getting one from me, but still. He's made it clear many times before that he doesn't want my magic anywhere near him or his brothers.

"But don't feel like you have to if you don't want to," MC quickly adds. "It's very difficult to undo a pact with someone, so you need to be completely sure that you want it before getting one."

Okay, now I'm confused. Surely MC remembers the situation with the snake, right? That's why they brought up his charm in the first place, isn't it?

"In this particular situation, however, it is the most viable option. You'd still be able to keep some autonomy this way, and that won't be possible if you choose me or Zephyr."

"Quit forcing the issue, Lucifer."

Oh. I get it. MC's still pissed that Asmo got manipulated into making a pact with me.

But I'm not the one pulling strings this time, which makes their objection that much more baffling. They seem to be bumping heads with Lucifer a lot more frequently in this timeline, and I have no idea why. Is it related to a power struggle that I don't know about, or is it something else entirely?

"Zephyr, believe me, I'm not a big fan of the idea. I don't trust Solomon as far as I can throw him, and I have no doubt in my mind that he's going to abuse this pact with my brother." Wow, Lucifer. I'm standing right here. "However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I don't know about you, but I'd really like to not become that spider's lunch."

"What's this about keeping my autonomy?" Asmo asks. MC diverts their attention away from Lucifer and answers,

"A pact between a human and a demon works both ways. He has the ability to control you, but you can also do the same to him if the mood strikes you."

"How interesting..." Asmo's deep in thought. Now's my chance.

"If we make this pact, I promise I will do anything you ask me to," I quietly tell him, causing his eyes to light up.

"Anything?" I nod. "You'll actually allow me to charm you into submission whenever I please?"

"Yes." I know MC probably thinks I'm lying, but the truth is, I've already agreed to this arrangement with him. Initially, it was proposed as payback for me taking advantage of him while he was drunk.

But as time's passed, I've actually come to like having Asmo controlling me occasionally. It's a nice way to shut my brain up for a bit and allows me to genuinely relax. No thoughts; just Asmodeus.

The Avatar of Lust smiles as I hear something scuttling across the floor.

"Then let's make it official. I'll make a pact with you, Solomon."

"Better make it quick, because I think our spider friend's returned," MC warns us.

Thankfully, I know how to do exactly that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty Chapter 3

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab reader

Chapter W/C: 9k

Chapter tags/warnings: SMUT!! (Ik, finally), vaginal fingering, blowjobs, oral sex, female masturbation, lil bit of angst, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, getting caught, canon-typical violence, I'm probably forgetting stuff but let's just say im not, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNDER THE CUT

Chapter summary: You and Mando get to know each other a bit more...intimately. Despite your frustrations, you learn that you really can't resist the man.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You wake up stiff as a rock.

When you open your eyes, you don't recognize your surroundings through the grogginess of sleep. You only panic for a second though, before you remember where you are. 

Memories of last night begin to flood your head and you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you remember why you probably feel so stiff. You had slept on top of Mando the entire night.

You have to stop the gasp that threatens to escape when your eyes come into focus and you realize that you are still in the same spot as you had fallen asleep in. You feel the cool metal of Mando’s breastplate biting into your cheek. 

You are laying sprawled out on top of the Mandalorian. Your hands are resting flat on his chest on either side of your head and your legs are almost straddling his torso under the blanket. 

You feel one of his hands resting gently on your back, his thumb absentmindedly stroking circles over your shirt. His other arm lays beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow. 

Your mind is screaming at you to jump up and get yourself away from the Mandalorian, but your body isn’t listening. You feel your muscles loosen as your eyes slowly flutter shut. Part of you wants to just pretend that you’re still asleep. Maybe if he thinks that you aren't aware of his subtle affection, he will hold and soothe you longer. 

You have a suspicion that he wouldn't want you to be aware of the gentle intimacy of the entire situation. He might have been okay with it last night, but for some reason, you know he wouldn't want to have so many emotions on display for you. 

To be honest, you think that Mando may be a little touch starved. The thought almost makes you giggle, and you have to catch yourself so as not to disturb your current position

You try to focus on the lazy circles Mando’s thumb is continuing to make to distract yourself from smiling. You can't seem to remember the last time you felt this safe and content. Kriff–maybe you were touch starved too.

It's surprisingly comfortable to lay on the heap of beskar, but you figure that feeling may come from the fact that it is Mando that you are on top of. It literally feels like one of your fantasies has come to life, and there is no way you are going to end it sooner than you need to. You would lay here forever if you had the option. 

You have no idea if he is still asleep or not, though if you had to guess it would be the latter. You figure you should savor the comforting feeling before he inevitably separates from you and resorts back to his old cranky self. Letting out a small sigh, you nuzzle your head onto his chest and allow yourself to let go of any worries for the time being.

Without opening your eyes, your brows furrow when you feel Mandos' thumb abruptly stop the soft motions on your back.

“Cyar’ika?”

If the sudden sound of the Mandalorian’s voice just barely crackling through the modulator hadn’t sounded so soothing, the intrusion would have made you jump. You worried that if you opened your eyes again, Mando would be gone and you would be laying alone in your cot, waking up from a dream. 

You wouldn't be able to stand it if all of this was just a figment of your imagination, so just in case, you kept your eyes tightly shut as you responded.

“Mhm?”

It wasn’t much of a response, but it was a response nonetheless. You shift your hands to fold under your chin so you can prop yourself up and off of the cold feel of beskar. When Mando stays silent, you risk slowly opening your eyes to peer up at him.

You sigh with contentment when you meet his gaze. You can't help but flash him a small smile as you make what you hope is eye contact. Seeing your admiration, Mando lifts his hand up from your back to rest it softly on your head, cradling you closer to him. 

You let your eyes droop slightly as he begins to stroke your hair. The intimacy of the whole situation is overwhelming enough to bring you to tears, but you hold them back and savor the moment instead. It's nice to know that he apparently doesn't mind you seeing his affections.

“Sleep well?” he asks you. You shiver at the sound of his voice. It's the same baritone as usual, but laced with traces of sleep. He sounds as at ease as you feel, and you love that he knows he can let his guard down around you. 

As you open your mouth to respond, you feel the ship lurch. Before you even realize what is going on, Mando has lifted you up by your arms and plopped you back down in the mess of blankets beneath you. 

As you try to reorient yourself, the ship moves again, almost as if something was pushing hard on the side of it. You look up to Mando, eyes wide with alarm and confusion. He is already running towards the ladder of the cockpit, presumably to check what's going on outside. 

You are standing by the time he jumps back down into the hull. 

“Damn pirates,” he answers your question before you have a chance to voice it. “Grab the kid and get into my bunk,” he instructs you. “The heat killed the rest of our fuel. We’re stuck on the surface until we get more.”

You gape at him as he struts to the gun locker and pulls out two blasters and a rifle. You can see the unmistakable tension in his stride as he rushes past where you are still glued to the floor. 

He starts to reach for the button so he can lower the ramp before he notices that you still haven’t moved. “Grab the kid and get in the damn bunk!” he barks at you.

The command sends you into motion and you fly to the back of the hull to retrieve the child from his closed hover pram. He was still sleeping and he startled when you snatched him up - you winced and made a mental note to apologize later. 

You make record time crossing back to hit a button with your open palm and clamber into Mando’s bunk. As you start to turn around so you could close the bunk door, you see the ramp of the ship slam down, letting a rush of cold wind blow inside. 

The pirates had blasted it open and caught Mando off guard. As he realized what happened, he swiveled around to face your direction before pulling the trigger on his blaster. You felt your mouth go dry at the image of the Mandalorian pointing a blaster your way, you are still too blissed out from this morning to understand exactly what he was doing. Your eyes screwed shut involuntarily as he pulled the trigger. 

When you opened them, you were in the dark. You quickly realized that he had shot the control panel to the bunk door, ensuring your safety if the pirates tried to open it. 

Honestly, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he had pulled the trigger. Mando knew that in reality, it probably wasn’t the best course of action, but what's done is done, no sense in overthinking it now. 

The pirates wouldn't be able to reach you and the kid if they discovered that you had been on the ship with him, and that's all that matters to him at the moment. With a quick shake of his head, he turns back to the now-open ramp and raises his blaster.

***

The sounds coming from the other side of the bunk door are muffled, but you can still hear the absurd amount of blaster fire ripping through the air. You stifle a gasp and hold on tight to the kid. 

Everything had happened too quickly for you to process it, one second you were laying in ecstasy on Mando’s chest, and the next you were stuffed into a dark room with only the kid to keep you company. 

You know that you need to remain calm in order to think straight, but there was nothing you could do about the panic building up inside of you. You didn't get to see how many pirates were huddled outside the ship, but judging by the number of shots you can hear now, it must be a lot. 

The kid shifts in your lap and you look down at him. You flinch as you hear a shot ring out close to the bunk and he jumps at your reaction. 

The reality of your situation is really starting to sink in, and you are now focusing on trying not to have a full blown panic attack in front of the kid. You never were the best at keeping your composure in scary situations, but you know you can tough through it for the sake of the little womp rat nestled in your lap. 

“Shh it’s going to be okay honey,” you tell the child as you gulp down your anxiety and squeeze him tighter to your chest. “Your daddy is going to handle it and we’re all going to be okay.”

You wish you could convince yourself of the words that come out of your own mouth. You try to stop the tears that threaten to fall as you move your hands to cover the kids ears. You know you can’t do anything else but wait right now. 

****

Din has two of the pirates down before they even realize what hit them. As he jumps down onto the surface, he scans the remaining pirates scrambling around. He counts six, maybe seven, before he lands.

It will be a challenge, but Mando knows that he is perfectly capable of taking the squad down in a reasonable amount of time. He makes sure to position himself in front of the opening of the Crest so that none of the gang members can slip past him and possibly discover what he has hidden on board. 

He sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening that the door to his bunk stays in place while he has his pack to it. He knows he would not be able to know if you and the child were revealed until the pirates tried to get past him, and by then it would be a struggle to get all of them down before one was able to get to you.

He grits his teeth at the thought but turns his attention to the criminals beginning to surround him. He raises his arm and shoots the one closest to his left, causing the one on his right to lunge at him.

He has that one down just as quickly as he had the one before him. He can see clearly now that there are only four members left, it shouldn’t take too much longer to have this thing over with. 

****

You figure it's only been about five minutes since the door had shut into the black pit of Mando’s quarters. Your heart rate has started to slow a bit and you are able to make out the outline of your hand when you hold it up in front of your face. 

There is a little less commotion from outside than before, but it's still enough for you to worry about the numbers Mando may be facing right now. You think back to earlier when you were curled up on top of him. 

To be honest, you are still confused about the sudden outburst of affection from the Mandalorian. You just hope it wasn’t pity. As much as it would make sense to think of it that way, the ordeal didn’t seem very one-sided. 

The way Mando had held you was warm but possessive, as if he was scared to let you go. The memory sends a shiver through your spine. You wish he was here comforting you now. You close your eyes and imagine being back in his arms with the kid in your lap. 

Why hadn’t he said anything before? You know that he had to have seen your slip-ups, and as much as you hated that idea, you also know that it means he would have known how you felt. 

Before you can come to a conclusion, you are pulled from your thoughts when light suddenly floods into the bunk. Your eyes snap open as you realize what happened and you make immediate eye contact with an unfamiliar face.

****

A sudden surge of panic shoots through Din’s veins as he swivels around trying to count the remaining gang members. He just downed two more of the four that had been left, but there was only one more crook in sight. 

He doesn't have much time to look around because the one still in view is dangerously close now. He let his guard down for too long, letting the thug get the advantage by closing in on Mando from the side. 

He sees the pirate lunging for him in his peripheral vision and fumbles with his blaster, startled by the unexpected movement. As he tries to get into position, the pistol slips from his grasp and falls into the snow with a heavy thud. 

He knows he doesn’t have time to bend down and pick it up before the pirate would be around his neck, so, trying not to panic, he rethinks his strategy. The Mandalorian curses himself internally for his mistake but quickly makes up for it by spinning on his heels to box the gang member in between his body and the side of his ship with his arms on either side of the crook. 

Before the pirate can understand what's happening, Mando brings his head down hard on top of the ugly stranger’s. With a deafening crack, the now unconscious pirate slumps down into the snow next to Mando’s discarded pistol. 

Now that the primary threat is disposed of, Din shakes off the ringing in his head and scoops his weapon up. As soon as he is steady on his feet, he hears a scream coming from inside of the ship. 

****

As you lay eyes on the pirate, neither of you move. 

A million thoughts run through your mind, telling you to run or push the pirate away from you, but your body doesn't seem to listen. You open your mouth to yell for Mando and feel your eyes grow wide in hopeless panic when no sound escapes. Only when you feel the kid struggle in your hold do you feel the vibrations climbing up your throat.

The next few moments happen in a blur. Before you can even blink, you see the flash of beskar coming up behind the pirate, who has now begun to move his arm towards you. Trying to come to your senses, you dodge to the side to miss the intruder's hand as he tries to grab your neck. You tuck the kid underneath your bunched up form and close your eyes, bracing yourself for the blows that are sure to come. 

As you settle fully into your protective stance, you hear a loud crack from outside the bunk. Your body jolts at the sound, but your mind immediately relaxes at the sound. You know what it means. You know the sound a skull makes as it collides with beskar. 

Slowly, you open your eyes and glance outside the bunk. Mando is standing there, unmoving. When you see the unconscious body on the floor in front of him, confirming what you already knew, you loosen your grip on the kid and sit up. 

The Mandalorian can see the tears brimming your eyes as he finally moves towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you and the child in your own. 

As he pulls you to him, you let out a shuddering breath and release the tears from your eyes. You run your hand over the kid's head, calming him down as much as you can. Though he didn't seem too concerned throughout the whole ordeal.

The three of you stay huddled up together for a moment before Mando pulls back. He turns around and nudges the body at his feet to the side, making room for you to step down from the cot.

He holds a hand out for you to take and eases you onto the floor. You give him an appreciative look as you find your balance. As soon as you are on your feet, Mando snatches his hand back as though he had been burned, like he suddenly remembered that you were capable of such a thing. 

Before you can open your mouth to question him, Mando has already bent down and thrown the body over his shoulder. Without another word, he turns around and walks to the open ramp of the ship to dispose of the pirate. 

Your brows furrow. What has him in such a hurry? You wonder quietly to yourself. Did you do something wrong? When he comes back, your feet are still rooted to the spot he left you. You open your mouth to say something but decide against it as he continues to seemingly ignore you. 

The kid has fallen asleep in your arms, which you find are littered with little blood spots, and after Mando makes it clear that he's not going to say anything, you turn on your heel to take him to his pram. 

“I'm going to put the kid down and get in the fresher,” you mumble over your shoulder, breaking the silence. You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and resume your task. You try not to let it bother you, but you feel your stomach drop at his changed demeanor. 

Not thirty minutes ago, he had gathered you into his arms, and now he’s treating you like a total stranger. Tears brim your eyes once again as you realize that maybe you had read too much into it. 

You try to resonate with yourself as you tuck the kid into the blankets in his pram. Maybe he was just shaken by the whole situation. Kriff, you know you should be a lot more concerned than you are. A few weeks ago, you would have been shaking in your boots. 

You’re not sure what changed, but you figure it has something to do with your trust in Mando’s abilities. You know that no harm would ever come to anyone he didn’t want it to, and so far, you have given him no reason to dislike you—you don’t think so at least. 

You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you close the child’s hover pram and make your way back to the main hull. You can hear the Mandalorian continuing to dispose of gruesome evidence before you lay eyes on him. 

He appears to have cleared an area around his messy bunk, and is now wiping the frame around it down with a wet cloth. You stand in the entrance, debating on whether or not to ask him if he wants help, but you decide against it when he looks up at you.

He holds eye contact just long enough for you to start squirming before he turns his helmet back to the task at hand. Your cheeks blush a furious color and you turn before he can get the chance to see your embarrassment. 

His nonchalant treatment hurts. You scold yourself for thinking that way, it's not like anything has changed just because he held you for five seconds. He was vulnerable and probably not thinking last night, it would be unfair of you to assume that anything is supposed to be different now. 

You brush your unshed tears away as you close the door to the fresher. Maybe you’ll feel better after a soothing shower. You turn the knob on the fresher all the way up and begin to strip out of your clothes. Once you’re done, you stick a hand into the stream to feel the temperature, stepping in once you are satisfied with the warmth.

The relief is instant as the water hits your back. You sigh as you feel yourself melt into the stream. You stare at the water swirling down the drain and try to focus your mind on anything but Mando. 

He seems to be controlling every aspect of your life at this point, not just your actions and emotions, but your thoughts as well. Come to think of it, you can't seem to recall the last thing you thought of or did that didn't have something to do with the man. 

You bring your hand up to let it run over your face, ignoring the water dripping off as you reach your chin. You are just now seeming to realize how exhausted you are. You open your eyes wide, trying to fight off the sleep threatening to take over them. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if the sudden change stems from the loss of adrenaline, the fact that you are still trying to wake up in the first place, or because of the constant facade you have managed to put on since joining Mando on the Crest. 

Whatever it is though, you just want to give in and fall asleep where you stand. If you’re asleep, you won’t have to put so much effort into walking on eggshells around Mando, and you won’t have to dwell on things that apparently don’t even matter. 

You decide that sleep sounds like the best plan you can make right now. After you finish washing up, you are going straight to your cot. 

You hear a heavy knock on the door as you reach for the shampoo and you have to try not to slip after the sound makes you jump. You must have been too tired to hear the tell-tale thump of Mando’s boots as he approached the door. 

You huff out a breath, trying to stop the irrational anger that threatens to take over from the scare. As you reach a hand out again, this time to steady yourself against the wall, he knocks again. Impatient bastard. 

“What is it Mando?” you ask in a tone a bit harsher than intended. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at how childish you probably seem to him right now. Clinging all over him and then getting mad because he isn’t paying you the attention you thought he would. 

You hear him sigh behind the door before answering. “There’s a town not too far from here,” he cuts right to the chase. “I’m going to go and try to find some means of fuel.” His tone is still nonchalant, but you do better with brushing it off this time, your anger making it easier. 

“Okay,” you tell him, doing your best to sound just as uninterested as he did. He says nothing else, but you can hear him shuffling around outside the door almost as if he were hesitating. You roll your eyes, wishing he would go ahead and leave already. 

“Okay, I-...” he trails off mid-sentence with a frustrated sigh.  What else does he want? You begin to scrub shampoo into your hair as you wait for him to finish whatever it is he wants to say. You almost forget he is still standing there by the time he talks again. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. You can hear him walking off before you even get the chance to banter back. You give your head a shake and scrunch your face up. What the fuck? 

Whatever. As you step out of the fresher, towel in hand, you decide you’re not going to deal with his bantha-shit right now. If he wants to have an attitude, so let him. 

After you peek your head out the door to make sure Mando already left, you secure the towel around your body and pad over to your “quarters”. Despite the intrusion this morning, it’s still pretty warm in the crest so you pick out a satin sleep tank top and a matching pair of shorts. After pulling them on and checking to make sure the kid is still sound asleep in his pram, you lay down on your blankets. 

You realize relatively quickly that your master plan isn’t going to work. As much as you try to push every thought from your head, you find yourself staring at the ceiling with some taunting memory or thought playing on repeat. 

You huff in annoyance as you lift yourself from your cot, suddenly wide awake. How convenient. You walk around in the hull, looking for something to distract yourself for the time being. When you turn around to make a third circle, your gaze lands on the unfinished cloak you were making for the kid.

You sit back down and immediately get to work with the needle. You are already about halfway done so it shouldn’t take long, but you’ll take the welcomed distraction nonetheless. 

****

You end up finishing the project much quicker than you had anticipated. After hemming the edges–and stabbing yourself with the needle about ten times–you are able to call it done. It's not perfect, but you are proud of the results. You want to have the kid try it on right away so you can make any adjustments necessary but find him still softly snoring in his blankets. Great. 

You roll your eyes. There really is nothing to do on this maker-damned ship right now. It’s just been cleaned, you’ve already showered, and you had a snack while you worked on the child’s cloak. 

You curse yourself for being so awake as you rack your brain, trying to think of something–anything–to do. As per usual, you come up with nothing. Well… almost nothing… 

You sit down on your blankets and shiver as you let your hand wander to your chest. You inhale sharply as the pad of your finger grazes over your stiffening nipple. You know it's not a good idea, but just the idea of getting yourself off in Mando’s ship is enough to feel the arousal taking root deep inside of you. 

You feel your eyes flutter shut as you bring your other hand up to cup your neglected breast. You decide you’ll just be quick, you are way too pent up not to continue at this point. You can feel the frustration embedded deep in every pore of your body. Every muscle tense and every hair standing on end from the pure agitation flowing through your veins. 

You let a hand travel south as you make the realization that you need this. Mando shouldn’t be back for another hour or so, you have plenty of time to do what you need to do before he gets back. It’ll be fine. 

Eyes still shut, you snake a hand down the front of your shorts to swipe a finger over the thin cotton fabric of your panties, feeling the wetness that's collected there. 

“Oh, fuck,” you shudder at the contact you’ve been missing for so long. You bring your hand back up and push your shorts all the way down your legs, discarding them with a light kick when they reach your ankles. 

With that out of the way, you get your hands back to work, bringing them back to their earlier positions. You tweak your nipple as you let your hand roam into your panties, circling a finger around your clit just light enough to be a tease. 

As you begin to apply more pressure, an image of the Mandalorian forces itself into your mind. The memory of him sitting in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, legs spread wide open, presenting a large bulge in his pants. 

You hiss as you let a finger dip into your wetness before dragging it back up to your clit. You can’t help but imagine that it's really Mando sitting in front of you, rubbing your sensitive bud and bringing you pleasure. You wonder if he would be quiet as usual, or if he would be vocal, finally able to express his thoughts and feelings after being so quiet underneath his helm.

Maybe he would praise you as he worked you through your orgasm, telling you you’re a good girl, letting you know how good you feel as he works a finger into you. You whimper at the thought and start making faster, tighter circles on your clit. 

“F-Fuck, Mando!” you shock yourself as you call out his name, but you find yourself too close to the edge to care right now. You’re almost there, you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. One more pinch on your nipple or flick of your finger and you’ll be tumbling over. 

Your movements are sloppy as you focus on your end goal, one last touch and-

“Having fun?”

Fuck. Your movements stop abruptly as you hear the familiar modulated voice sounding from above you, but not before you feel yourself tip over the edge. Your entire body shakes and you keep your eyes locked shut out of embarrassment. 

“Ah, f-fuck!” you practically scream as you continue to convulse involuntarily. You absolutely hate how much it fuels the fire to know you’ve been caught by the same man you were fantasizing about just moments ago. 

Even after you come down from your high, you refuse to open your eyes. As flushed as you know your body is right now, you feel an impossible heat flood through you, turning you an even brighter shade of red. As you lay there in shame, you think that you have never been more humiliated in your entire life.

You stay put for what feels like an eternity before you finally find the courage to crack your eyes open. You realize quickly that you can't see much else than the Mandalorian’s intimidating form looming over your quivering form. Nowhere for you to look but at him.

“Well?” his tone is not mocking, but you’re not dumb enough to think that it’s not genuine curiosity that has him repeating himself. Your eyes fill with tears as you attempt to meet his gaze, only to shy away again when you feel the weight of his heavy stare. 

You open your mouth to say something but find that the most you can muster is a small squeak. A tear trickles down your cheek and into your hairline as you watch Mando cock his head to the side, a silent tell that he is not going to give up until he gets an answer. 

The asshole knows what he's doing, he knows that you want this, that you are embarrassed, that you are aroused because of it, and that you are dying for him to touch you already. Even so, he looks into your eyes for permission, which you grant with a slight nod, as he brings a hand up to rest on your bent knee. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to draw slow circles with his thumb over your bare skin, only to jolt back open when he speaks for the again. 

“Nuh-uh, sweet thing,” he starts, bringing his other hand up to grab your chin between two fingers. “I asked you a question.”

You gulp as you feel your eyes widen at his boldness. The grip he has on your chin isn’t too tight, but it’s enough to both intimidate you and have you biting down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. He sees your internal struggle and chuckles darkly, causing you to shudder as he tilts your face up to meet his helmet. 

“Answer me cyar’ika,” he tells you and you know by the way he gives your chin a light squeeze that this is the last warning you would be getting before he decided to either lunge for you or stop his actions completely.

“I was,” you mumble, barely coherent to him. 

“What was that?” he asks, leaning in so that your nose almost bumps into his helmet. “I didn’t quite hear you.”  He brings himself over you even more so that he can slot his head next to yours as if he were going to whisper something into your ear. 

The weight of his body is surprisingly comforting and it brings you a newfound sense of comfort. You take a deep breath and turn your head so that your lips are brushing against the side of his own, right where his ear would be. 

“I was, Mando,” you say, louder this time. “Until someone had to interrupt me and ruin my fun.”

Mando stills at your accusatory tone and it almost scares you how quickly he jolts back up to a standing position. 

“Well,” he retorts, “Maybe someone should have picked some place other than the floor of my ship to indulge in their pleasurable desires. Your face flushes a bright shade of red at his response, and you find yourself curling up to make yourself a little smaller. 

Once back completely on his feet, Mando straightens out and tilts his helmet up to gaze down at you. “If you wanted some help, sweet thing,” he says, “you could have just asked.”

Your eyes widen once again at the sight of the imposing man pinning you under his gaze. You want to pinch your arm so you can try to convince yourself that this is even real in the first place. Never in your life would you ever have imagined yourself to be in this situation–dreamed of it,  sure–but never actually thought it would come true. 

“Are you still offering?”

His head jerks back down at your words and his hands fly to your body quicker than you can blink. One of them flying to your breast and another landing on your stomach. You are back helmet-to-face once again as he begins to trail the hand on your stomach downward towards the band of your now-soaked panties. 

You close your eyes in anticipation as his fingers drag lightly across your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers groping your breast tweak your nipple, making you cry out as you feel the cot dip with the weight of his knee coming up to settle between your legs. 

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” he says in a low voice that makes you shudder. “What's in it for me?” You know that he only says the last part for show, but for some reason the sentence sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. 

You think that this must be Mando’s idea of roleplay. It fits perfectly for a bounty hunter; he has something to hold against you, you need help that only he can provide you with, he will grant your wishes if he can find a mutual benefit. 

He pinches your nipple once again when you remain silent–you seem to be at a loss for words more frequently than usual. 

“I-” you start to talk but stop when the embarrassment of what you are about to say catches up. You dart your tongue out to wet your lip before continuing. “I can make you feel good, Mando,” you say, looking right up into his gaze with your best doe-eyes. He curses under his breath when he feels his cock twitch at the sight unfolding beneath him. 

He knows he won't be able to keep up this facade he’s put on to try to gain the upper hand. You are his weakness, and he knows that you know it–subconsciously or not. He bites his tongue and  pretends to think about your offer before giving his feedback. 

“Sounds fair to me.” You can hear the lust thick in his voice, and if that wasn’t enough to make you moan in itself, the finger that suddenly dips farther into your panties to tease your clit certainly did it. Mando has to suppress a groan at the way your body responds to him at the slightest movement. 

Upon hearing your mewls and cries, he feels his canvas pants grow unbearably tighter. In this moment, he would give anything just to be able to lay by your side and hear you make those sweet sounds for however long he pleases. 

He uses the pad of his pointer finger to start rubbing slow, barely there circles over your clit, smirking under his helmet when he feels you buck up into him in search of more pressure. 

“You sure you want this, cyar’ika?” he asks. Even though you are caged beneath him, willingly handing your body over, he still wants to make sure you aren’t going to regret this. Mando often finds that his mind revolves around doubt.  Whether it has to do with a bounty, the kid, or you, he always feels like he is going to do the wrong thing. 

What if you get your release and then decide that all of this was just a mistake? What if you decide you want to leave the Crest, want to leave him? He is well aware that he doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be most of the time, so why would you want to stay in the first place? 

Mando tells himself that he is distancing himself in order to protect you, but he knows deep inside that he is a selfish man, that he keeps you at arm's length to protect himself. If he has nobody to protect, nobody to care about, he has nothing to lose. He is safe, he is fearless. 

He is brought out of his spiraling thoughts when you speak from beneath him, your sweet voice taking hold of his hand and pulling him out of the deep hole he keeps digging himself into. 

“Mando,” you start, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of his helmet, as if cupping his cheek. He shudders at the gentle touch and you smile warmly, providing a sight that melts his worries away. “I want this,” you stroke your thumb over the place it's resting as he leans into your touch. 

“I want you.” 

That's all it takes for Mando to throw away any doubt and let himself give in to the desires you seem to fill him with. Just for once, he figures, fuck it. He’s not stupid, he knows that eventually he would have to give in to you. Part of the reason he treats you the way he does is because you are so goddam frustrating. 

Your perfectly molded face, your honey sweet voice, the delicate way you handle the child. The way you care for the both of them, giving all that you have to ensure that they are well fed, well rested, and in tip top condition. It scares him half to death how much he really has come to care for you, but how could he not? 

He simply wouldn't be able to bear it if you left. None of his fears matter now though, all that he can think about is finally giving you the treatment, the pleasure, you deserve. Now that he is sure that you feel the same way, it's like a wall has come down, allowing him full access to what’s been hidden behind it for so long. 

He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of any thoughts that reside there as he starts to move again. He picks you up and carries you to his bunk, plopping you down on the sheets and causing you to giggle.  You sit up with your elbows and look at him looming over you between spread legs, moaning as he shoves his hand back into your panties, letting a finger dip down lower to tease into your soaked cunt. 

“Oh, f-fuck, Mando,” you keen under him and he has to try not to melt on the spot. His title has never sounded better. If only he could have the pleasure of hearing his real name fall from your plush lips. His eyes roll to the back of his head just from the thought. 

You look up into his visor as he eases a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out a few times before adding a second. The delicious stretch has you clenching around his fingers, causing him to release a sharp breath through the modulator. 

You wonder for a second how many sounds his helm keeps from escaping, keeps from reaching your greedy ears. How often does he scoff at your light teasing, or laugh under his breath at your subtle jokes? You brush the thoughts away quicker than they came, you know you can never really know. 

Bringing your focus back to the man above you, you relish in the feeling of his fingers scraping against your walls, of his thumb brushing over your clit. You can feel your orgasm building up faster than you previously thought to be possible.

 Your legs are still shaking from the one you had granted yourself, and you feel a little overstimulated, but you find yourself not caring. When Mando crooks his fingers into that sweet spot deep inside you, you can't help the wave of relief that overcomes you. 

You cry out as he coaxes you through your second orgasm, continuing his ministrations, but at a slower pace. You look like heaven underneath him, hair falling onto the pillow and clinging to your face where sweat sheens. You look ethereal in your orgasmic haze, and the image alone is enough to make Mando’s cock twitch, making him buck involuntarily as his sensitive tip brushes the seam of his pants. 

You whimper as Mando whispers sweet praise into your ear, telling you how good you are for him, how only he can make you feel this good, how lucky he is to touch you in this way. You have never heard him speak this way, and honestly, you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too blissed out to know what he is saying.

As you come down, he removes his hands and starts to back away, unsure of what to do next. Your eyes snap to his retreating form as you sit up, a frown painted on your features at his sudden departure. He stops in his tracks when he sees your confusion. Your expression softens as you realize that he probably doesn’t know where to go from here. 

If you had to guess, you would say that Mando probably doesn’t have much experience with this kind of thing, and you would be right. The most he has done is find pleasure through brothels, maybe a few one night stands where he kept his armor on the whole time, always leaving before the sun rise. 

You suppress the urge to giggle when you notice the ever-growing tent in his pants, instead extending a hand as you settle at the end of his cot, legs hanging off the edge. It only takes him a second to figure out what you are asking for before taking a step forwards and placing a large hand in your own. 

You tug a little and he obeys your request, stepping closer until he stands in between your thighs. He looks down at you but doesn’t say anything and you take that as a sign to keep going. The corners of your lips tug into a smile as you release his hand to trace up his arm, all the way up to his shoulder which you mirror on the other side. 

You use his form to pick yourself up and stand in front of the cot, so close that your nose brushes the cool metal of his breastplate. Tilting your head to look up at him, you bring your hands slowly back down to lay flat on the beskar in front of you. Your turn.

Catching him off guard, you push him back slightly and then turn around while keeping your hands on him, making him switch positions. His breath hitches but he still doesn’t move, clearly wanting to see where this is going. 

You smirk at him and use one hand to push him again until the back of his knees hit the bunk, forcing him to sit down on the end. His face is almost level with yours in this position, and it brings you a newfound sense of confidence. 

You take your hands away from him and turn around, watching his hands try to catch your hips in your peripheral. You step away quickly though, just out of reach as you grab hold of the hem of your shirt to slowly bring it up over your head. Your smile widens at the pained groan that comes from behind you as you let the article fall to the floor by your bare feet, leaving you in just your ruined panties. 

Mando visibly stiffens when you turn back around, bottom lip caught between your teeth and hands brought up to fondle your perfect tits. His cock gets painfully harder at the sight and he has to clutch the blankets beneath him in order to keep his hands off his cock. The intimidating look in your eye gives him enough of a hint not to. 

He never thought that he would like to submit to anybody in any circumstance, but something about the way you stare down at him makes him reconsider. He seems to always be in charge–he always has to be–the thought of having someone else dominate him seems almost refreshing, though he thinks that he might feel differently if it wasn’t you. 

You keep padding over to him until you are close enough to put your hands on his thighs and lower yourself to your knees. A blush threatens to rise to your cheeks as you recall the last time you had been in a position like this, patching up a wound for Mando whilst trying not to jump his bones. 

You close your eyes for a beat as you take a deep, calming breath before focusing your gaze back to his helmet. You can't tell if the tremor you feel in your hands as you bring them up to his crotch is from your previous orgasms, nerves, or excitement.

When he feels your fingers start to work at his zipper, he pulls your hands away. You frown up at him, arching a brow to silently ask why he stopped you. 

“Cyare,” he starts, watching as you pull your hands back a little and cock your head. “You..” he sighs heavily, trying to find the words to say. 

“You don’t have to do that, cyare,” he says, finally. You roll your eyes and push his hands back out of the way, fingers finding his zipper once again.

“I know I don’t have to, Mando,” you say, training your eyes to watch your hands as they work with the clasp of his pants. “But I want to.” You feel him shudder underneath your touch as you unzip him completely and make a loose fist to let your knuckles lightly run across his length. Your eyes widen at how much bigger he looks without the pants in the way, only the thin fabric of his boxers concealing him from your hungry gaze. 

“Besides,” you look back up to him, “I am a woman of my word after all.” 

You don’t give him any time to respond before you are reaching into his boxers and wrapping a hand around him. He jerks up into your fist and you have to stifle a moan at how thick and warm he feels with your fingers wrapped around him. 

Pulling him out completely, you lean forward to taste the pearl of pre-cum that's collected on his tip. He bucks up and groans at the feeling of your tongue grazing his most sensitive part, there’s no way he’s going to last long with your mouth on him. The sounds he makes are absolutely sinful, and you have to bite your lip before moaning yourself. 

“F-fuck, pretty girl,” he says when you lick up the bottom of his shaft, trailing the vein that runs there. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time, and he knows it's going to be hard not to come in your mouth the second you take him. 

You smirk at his words as you lean back and use your hand to smear your saliva further around his cock, giving small jerks each time you meet the base. When he moans again, you take pity on him and wrap your lips around the head of his cock, closing your eyes as you suck gently. 

His hips shift, bringing him further into your mouth, and one of his hands fly up to settle in your hair at the sudden warmth engulfing his dick. You quickly pull off of him, watching a string of spit break and fall onto your chin. You tsk at him when he whines from the loss. 

“Nuh-uh, Mando,” you say in a slightly teasing but firm tone, “Keep your hands to your sides for me.” You can tell you are pushing your luck by ordering him around from the way he stiffens, but he obeys none-the-less, fisting the sheets with white knuckles. Maybe you should call him a good boy next time. You have to try not to laugh at the thought.

Satisfied with his compliance, you get back to work, this time taking more of him into the heat of your mouth. You moan around him as you take him deeper, sending vibrations through his spine. As you relax your throat to take more of him down, you begin to wonder if you will be able to. He's bigger than average, sure, but his girth is what makes you nervous. 

You bob your head up and down, trying to keeping eye contact with Mando. You can tell he is struggling to keep his composure, and it delights you much more than you would have thought. Finally, you are able to nestle your nose in the dark curls at the base of his cock. You sigh around him and you can feel him twitch in your mouth, a sign that he's getting close.

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip of his cock when you bring your head up, and each time, you feel him shiver above you. It really shouldn’t surprise you how sensitive the Mandalorian is considering he’s always glued to his armor, but for some reason, it does. 

He whimpers above you and you know that he's about to spill over the edge. Smirking around him, you bring a hand up to fondle his balls, pushing him to his limit. 

“S-shit!” he growls almost incoherently as he spills into your mouth, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. You are more than happy to swallow all that he gives you, but he carries a big load, and you can feel it start to dribble down your chin. 

As he stills, you pull your mouth away from his softening cock. You grin as you watch his form shake from the intensity of his orgasm, reveling in pride and the fact that you get to be the one to bring the ‘feirce Mandalorian’ so much pleasure. 

He watches you with hooded eyes as you swipe your thumb across your bottom lip to collect the cum that leaked out of your mouth. When you push the digit between your lips, he groans once again. 

“Fuck, cyar’ika,” he says, voice laced with both arousal and exhaustion. “That was..” he trails off as he watches you scoot forward on your knees and tuck him back into his pants. He doesn’t finish, he can tell that you know what he means. 

You stand up and stretch before placing a hand on his shoulder to push him down so that he is laying flat on the cot. He can see the tired look in your eyes and knows what you are asking for. You watch as he scoots back to the end of the cot, making sure to leave room for you. 

You glance at the childs pram across the hull to make sure he is still asleep before you climb in behind Mando, closing the door to the bunk behind you. He opens his arms in invitation and you gladly accept, climbing up to tangle with him, head resting on his chest and leg swung over his torso. 

Nothing is said for a few moments as he brushes his fingers through your hair, lulling you slowly to sleep. Eventually, when you feel yourself begin to doze off, he breaks the silence. 

“Thank you, sweet thing,” he says quietly, “for everything.”

You smile into his chest and he hugs you tighter to him. You don't have to say anything for him to know that you want to tell him the same. One good thing about Mandos’ whole ‘no speaking’ thing–he knows how to read you. 

You just hope he can't read everything. You are trying to ignore your feelings right now, but you feel conflicted. You want to ask him why he seems to get so distant, why he was being so weird earlier today, you want to tell him that if he feels differently about you, to let you go.

But on the other hand, you also want to beg him to hold you forever, to take you with him wherever he goes for the rest of your life, you want to tell him that you belong to him, that you want him to belong to you. 

For now though, you can't seem to do either as you succumb to the tiredness that takes over your body. “Youll have to make up your mind,” you reason with yourself as you drift off. You ignore the voice though, perfectly content to stay in the middle ground, wrapped in Mando’s strong arms as you fade from consciousness.

****

Thank you for reading!!

[jurassicsickfics]

pls make the seasick fic of jack!

You got it! Your option won the poll! I mean I would have done your request anyway 'cause I'm cool like that lol😎

But here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Like One of Your Sick Girls: A Titanic Sickfic

Ah, the Titanic. The Ship of Dreams, supposedly, anyway. For Jack Dawson, it didn't seem like much could to wrong on this "unsinkable" ship. He'd met Rose DeWitt Bukater only hours ago, and they'd spent some time together; he was immediately smitten. So smitten, in fact, that the butterfly-like feeling in his stomach was chalked up to love nerves. After all, he'd felt fine up until a couple of hours ago. Although, the sea was considerably rougher now, too. He and Rose had plans to meet on the deck at sunset, sharing a secret, romantic few minutes together before bed that night. He met her on the deck of the ship at around 6 in the evening, just as the sun barely began to dissappear behind the curve of the earth, at the edge of the endless water out in front of the grand vessel on which they stood. Rose arrived right on time, and they greeted one another with a soft smile and a peck on the cheek. However, Jack noticed that Rose was being especially quiet this evening, much more so than she had been earlier, when they were laughing, cutting up, and he was teaching her to spit. "You alright? Seems like something's on your mind." Jack asked, leaning against the ship's railing. Rose shrugged her shoulders, fidgeting with the necklace she wore. "Well...I wasn't gonna say anything, but now that you mention it, I'm not feeling very well. Haven't been for some time." The redhead answered. Jack raised an eyebrow. "That so? What's wrong?"

Rose sighed. "I feel...nauseated...and...off balance, a little dizzy."

Jack's eyes widened. "Hey, that's odd. Me too. I keep burping, and my stomach feels funny."

"Huh..." Rose said, staring out over the horizon at the bright pink sky, contemplating the situation.

"Seasick?" She suggested, giving Jack a sideways glance.

He shrugged. "Probably. Just our luck, huh?" He joked, prompting a chuckle from Rose.

The two stood, talking about everything from weather to their childhoods, but as the boat rocked, and darkness no longer allowed them to focus on the horizon. Now, all their was to focus on was the up and down...up and down...up and down...

"Ugh...I don't feel so good..." Jack said, bringing a hand to his stomach. Rose turned to him. "Oh love..." she cood. "I'm sorry..."

Jack, without even thinking, leaned his head on her shoulder. "Would you be totally turned off if I hurled in front of you?" He asked, half joking, half serious. Rose gave him a worried look, grimacing. "I should ask you the same thing...I'm really not feeling well..."

Jack smirked and offered her his arm. "Shall we go vomit together, madame?"

Rose giggled. "Real romantic...but...what the heck? Why not?"

The two went back below deck, finding an empty restroom where they had some privacy. Rose got to her knees in front of the toilet and Jack crouched down beside her.

"Who goes first?" She asked. Jack shrugged. "I dunno, whoever loses it first, I guess."

"So I guess we just wait then?"

He shrugged and nodded. "Guess so."

It didn't take long for Rose to gag and lean over the toilet, and just as she began to retch up the first thick, chunky stream of vomit, Jack was right there to hold her hair back. He even thought to reach around with his free hand and turn her necklace around to keep it out of the line of fire as well. But despite all that, he couldn't bring himself to watch too closely; he felt queasy too.

Rose was about 3 minutes finishing up, and when she did, Jack tore off a piece of toilet paper and wiped her mouth for her. "Feel better?" He asked, planting a gentle kiss on her sweaty forehead. Rose nodded, smiling softly as she reached up to flush the toilet.

Once that was done she scooted back. "Your turn." She said, smirking. But she noticed now that Jack didn't seem as optimistic as before...he looked distressed.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Jack sighed. "Rose...I'm gonna confess something to you...and...promise me...you won't think differently of me..."

"Of course, darling..." Rose crooned, cupping his cheek in her palm. "What is it?"

Jack took a deep breath. "I am..terrified...of throwing up..." he admitted, not meeting her gaze.

"R-really? Why?" Rose asked, her eyes softening even more.

He shrugged. "I...I really don't know, honestly. Been that way since I was a little kid."

Rose was about to reply, but Jack's gagged and quickly lurched for the toilet. "Rose!" He called, his tone fearful and desperate now.

The redhead immediately went into maternal mode, rubbing his back. "Hey hey...it's ok, I'm here..." she comforted him. The poor boy started puking violently, trembling the whole time, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jack was beyond embarrassed at his emotional display, but something about Rose made him feel safe being his whole, raw, self. Even if it was a little embarrassing sometimes and made him feel like a big baby. He spit and burped a few more times, before sitting up. Rose was ready with a wad of toilet paper, wiping the vomit and drool from his mouth and then pulling him into her arms. "Shhhh...all done...all done now...it's ok..."

Rose's gentle words of comfort were the final push that Jack needed to break down, and he sobbed into her shoulder, muttering apologies over and over as she rocked and soothed him. They stayed that way for several minutes, until Jack calmed down enough for them to walk back up on deck. Rose was still feeling sick after a few minutes, and she leaned over the railing, burping occasionally. Jack sat on a bench, watching her with a look of fascination rather than fear now. "Hey Rose?"

He asked. Rose turned around. "Yeah?"

Jack hesitated. "Can I...can I draw you? Like that? Like...sick?" He asked.

Rose was a little confused but she agreed. "Sure yeah...but..but why?"

He shrugged. "I dunno...just...its..something that..has always scared me so much but...somehow...you make it look...almost beautiful..."

Rose smiled. "Of course, go right ahead..."

[redundantharpoons]

larian plz

Apparently Minthara's VA has been in the studio again for some after-release recording, so I'm just going to go ahead and drop the headcanon I came up with during EA for "good playthrough but you get to keep Minthara" here just in case . . .

I feel like if you side with the tieflings during the grove event but toggle on non-lethal damage to knock Minthara out rather than kill her, the after-battle scenes should include one where you find that they have captured Minthara and she's basically bedraggled in a cage, fully restrained with shackles and such. In just a really pitiable, pathetic situation but she keeps her chin up and her jaw clenched, too proud to be broken even in this situation. And perhaps, just perhaps, her faith gives her confidence that The Absolute has planned this.

When she sees you walk through the camp and everyone thanking and cheering you, maybe she pushes into your mind with the worm, maybe not. I think only if you're drow or depending on dialogue choices before to make her think if you can be easily turned back or not. But I think for most people she's written you off as an infidel and traitor to the absolute and other than a glare she doesn't acknowledge you at all.

While talking to Halsin, or Zevlor, or someone "in charge," you are being thanked for all you did for the grove and tieflings, and they express that they are in your debt, ask if there's anything they can do for you despite having so little, etc. And you should be able to choose "I'll take the drow prisoner off your hands."

Depending on who is with you, most of your party members are going to be disapproving/wary, but you can (and this is true, it should be an option later in the game) say you will use her as leverage or a bargaining chip in Moonrise or otherwise when dealing with the Absolute, or acknowledge that her insider knowledge of what's going on would make her a valuable prisoner to keep nearby.

If she overhears you asking for her as your "reward," she might push in now, but I still don't think she does, she just watches, appraisingly. (Or, perhaps depending on your dialogue choices this was all her orchestration via the mind worm; that she reached out to you when she saw you and assured you that The Absolute is not done with you, and that she brought you together and spared you both for a greater purpose, and you must free her so you can return to Moonrise together, as The Absolute clearly intends!)

The druids and tieflings are clearly uncomfortable with the idea of letting such a dangerous prisoner out of their hands; odds are they intended to kill her after a while (they were letting people throw food and stuff at her through the cage for a while as catharsis :( ) and so the idea of her possibly escaping or being set free by you later doesn't feel good. But you can convince/intimidate them over how much you've done for them, how you are clearly the more capable group to look over her since you had to look over them too, etc. Eventually they acquiesce, and there's a prisoner handoff scene, some banter with the party members about how you better know what you're doing.

And in my headcanon there's tons more content that gets very sexy in the times after that once you have Minthara in your camp as somewhat of a prisoner-in-tow (lots of her pushing into your brain and . . . showing you things, making you feel things 👀 with you second-guessing if she's actually into you or just manipulating you for her freedom), but suffice it to say from there the various game experiences maybe allow her to warm up to your party or your party to warm up to her . . . or maybe not and you just trade her away to slavers or kill her or whatever. But I always felt that was a pretty simple way to allow you to spare the tieflings and recruit Minthara, and I'm sad it's not in the game.

[niuttuc]

My Favorite Cards of 2024: Fallout

The year is pretty close to over, so let’s go back over the sets released this year (with new cards at least), and go through a few of my favorite cards from that release. I’ll group together stuff released together, in this case it’ll be just the Fallout set and potentially some of the bonus reprints, either reskinned or with pip-boy art. I’ll probably go through one set a day for the next week, though I might skip some days for personal reasons.

My first card is pretty innocuous and niche, but Survivor's Med Kit has found its way into many of my artifacts commander decks since it released. It has extremely low opportunity cost, can be tutored with Urza's saga, and represents 2 artifacts on board and a cantrip. The rad counters mode is trinket text, but that's fine. At best in some decks it allows you to sac this at will without a sac outlet to bring it back for another round.

These two are together due to some, but not full, similar uses. Pre-War Formalwear is a great equipment to have in a package, reanimating a small creature and giving it a chunky boost all its own while being tutorable with a Stoneforge, targetable with sun titan, and all that good stuff. Getting immediate spell value out of your equipments makes them much, much better and more usable. Brotherhood Outcast really wants you to be able to use that first mode, but if you can take advantage of it fully, that's another card and 2 or 3 extra mana on your three drop. Particularly good with auras that tend to go to the graveyard, but powerful equipments attract plenty of removals too. The shield counter buyout makes this at least not a dead card in other situations, and can even protect from blasphemous acts and other wraths of god if those are the kind of sweepers in your playgroup.

Another great one in Artifact decks, Synth Infiltrator is a two mana clone that's also an artifact is just nice. Phyrexian Metamorph is hard to compete with, but this can do it in some decks, and if Improvise isn't a heavy theme of your artifact deck, it's often trivial to have three of them laying around that don't mind being tapped. It can copy opposing creatures, which is a good quality to see in a clone these days.

Mostly for graveyard decks only, but a land every turn and with some self-milling packaged in if you have nothing else going on makes Tato Farmer a decent ramp option for those decks. The rad counters are optional, so don't even have to worry about going nuts and killing yourself by accident with your lands.

This was our preview card for the set so it gets a bias bump up, but Kellogg here is also an excellent rate for what it does. First Strike means you should usually find someone to attack, haste that it gets value immediately, and a treasure a turn is useful ramp. The theft effect is also there, though I mostly play this guy in decks that don't really care about it.

Watchful Radstag is just neat. You can keep making 3/3s to create tokens 1 at a time, or go bigger creatures to double your stags, but that'll be limited because at some point they'll be too big, but the new ones are always 2/2s to keep at least something going. It's surprisingly difficult (though far from impossible) to go infinite with, and that's a good thing for this kind of design.

I really like Mysterious Stranger in theory, though never expect it to do great. I've been disappointed so far, the two times I drew it, nobody else had ANY instants or sorceries in their graveyard, which is probably a fluke? You'd think they'd be common enough.

Untapping two lands is the big seller here, makes the Pip-Boy quite a low investment in an equipment deck since it pays for its own equip cost and then starts generating two mana a turn. With that said, with the kind of manabases I encounter, with bounce lands and certainly a Dowsing Dagger in that equipment deck, that mode becomes even stronger. It's cheap enough to get with a Saga, and that's always good to see.

I don't actually play Inventory Management anywhere or enjoy the gameplay of it all too much, but I gotta give it props and a place here for the top down design that's both incredibly fitting and a hilarious translation of a common trope.

Decks that attack can often struggle with board wipes, and turning your attacks into draws (up to three cards) whenever you need them that dodge creature wipes and ramping you to cast them and in the form of artifacts and not needing to attack with this and... Rose, Cutthroat Raider does a lot, and I think more decks should attack more anyway.

[desultory-suggestions]

Hi, I don't know why I've come to this corner of the internet but I'm desperate so thought to leave an ask... anything on the situation when you're so far into being depressed (and chronically ill on top of that) that your brain just wants to destroy you until the end and self sabotage and you know you should fight against it but have no strength & don't know where to even start and seek help, I just want it to be over, I don't want it to hurt anymore, I don't want to watch my friends and family worry because of me, logically some part of my brain knows I should fight back but literally can't even be bothered to try to get better and it's such a mess and ugh

Hello, dear. This is absolutely the right place to come, and I am so glad that you did. Fighting depression is a term that implies a lot of strength and confidence. In reality, recovering from depression is a combination of incremental changes and occasional leaps. In my experience, you gain momentum in recovery. However, the beginning feels torturous! It is so hard to see the progress we are making.

So how does it start? Finding a reason can be important, but it's also important to know you don't need one. If you want to you can just do it because. Often when I am struggling with food, anxiety, guilt my affirmation is simply "I can do whatever I want forever." It's silly, and it works. There are also, a multitude of reasons. You said a few, and here are some:

For your family and friends

For your pet(s) or other creatures

To see a movie/show/game that will be released, or to finish one

To care for a plant

To see what's possible if you do

For your dreams, even if they feel impossible. Why not try?

When it comes to action, there are a few options. You said you don't know where to start, and that is totally normal. Here are some actions that I qualify as leaps:

Make an appointment for therapy, even if you don't see the point.

Speak to your doctor about medication options, and give them a try.

Speak to close friends and family candidly about how you are feeling. It can be a letter, text, in person conversation, phone call, etc. Tell them what you are dealing with, and allow them to offer support.

These leaps can take time to build up to, and after completing one (even just making the appointment) you may be exhausted. That is okay! They are leaps, and you will need rest. Leaps are also often farther apart, whether days or weeks. Incremental change is part of how we recover from leaps. Here are some smaller options that can be utilized:

Gradually put together items and activities of comfort. These can serve as a self care kit for bad days. Items make include blankets, candy/snacks, journals, stim toys, art, etc. Activities can include a playlist, a journaling prompt, a small game, a list of favorite movies. You can intentionally make this a kit, or keep a list of these items on paper to remind you that they're there.

If we are going to struggle, we can at least try to make the space where we are comforting. Consider your ideals for your room, and your needs. What would be easier? What would be comforting? I put a side table in my room with my toothbrush so I would use it. I also covered my walls in cheap colorful posters that made me happy. It gradually became a safe haven, not a coffin.

Try to do small activities that benefit you. Go for a walk, or just go sit outside. Opening a window is enough. Text a friend even if you can't go out on the town. Sketch, paint, doodle. You don't need inspiration, fill a page with triangles and lines and explore the texture of the activity.

Change how you take care of yourself. Take dishes to the kitchen, even if you can't wash them. Use body wipes to clean yourself up. Keep those mini toothbrushes in your bag.

This point has become diluted by TikTok nonsense, but I'm serious when I encourage romanticizing your life. I mean finding the beauty in it. Little things can go a big way here. Thinking about the beauty of eating your boxed mac and cheese, collecting leaves you find pretty, stopping to truly admire your surroundings. Your life is beautiful, depression hides this but does not erase it.

This is a long list, but not nearly everything. This is also a lot of actions, and it is okay to just need to commiserate. It is just important to know when it is time to brush yourself of and start inching forward. I felt the way you describes for a long time, and I thought I would never recover. Many years down the line I know now I was so wrong. Remember, you can do whatever you want forever, so right now give getting better a go. In the meantime I am always happy to offer support resources. You are loved, and you have a beautiful and joyful life ahead of you.

Evan

[ranchthoughts]

ephemerality and YOLO in Only Friends, episode 3 update

Sand's You Only Live Once bag is back

Boston's Instagram bio: Life is too short to stick to one thing

Boston saying he doesn't really care what/how Nick defines their relationship to other people

Ray encouraging Sand to go with the flow and not stress about sleeping with him again (despite Sand's rule that he never hooks up with someone more than once unless they are his lover)

And more ephemerality:

Sand hooking up with Ray (supposedly just the one time)

Boston and Nick hooking up a LOT but not defining the relationship in any more specific terms

Sand agreeing to hookup with Ray again, against his better judgement and his rule that he only sleeps with lovers more than once (they haven't defined themselves yet - friends don't struggle to stop kissing, but they aren't lovers, but Sand doesn't sleep with hookups more than once...)

Ray getting a call from Mew and immediately leaving Sand, despite the allowances Sand was making for him

Top hooking up with Boston on a whim, despite the many complications this is going to have

Permanency (many linked to record-keeping through photography and audio/video):

Boston having photos of himself and Top in the photo booth, which Nick finds

Boston having photos/video of Mew and Ray hooking up

Nick recording Boston and Top hooking up

Mew and Top solidifying a relationship - they've been "seeing" each other for 3 months

Sand agreeing to hook up with Ray again - no longer a temporary situation

Lots of stuff about photography, surveillance, and voyeurism too this episode as @lurkingshan and @waitmyturtles pointed out here

I threw more of my thoughts on photography/video/audio on this reblog chain here

I'm also thinking a lot about control and how it relates to these themes:

control, as in the power to decide to throw caution into the wind and live by YOLO principles (who gets affected by lack of caution, who is able to bounce back - the rich kids of the friend squad don't face as many monetary consequences from their decisions, and also as of yet are not thinking about how their actions emotionally harm others)

control, as in the power to dictate what does or doesn't get defined - Mew deciding he didn't want to be Top's boyfriend but to go back to the talking stage, Boston deciding what term his and Nick's relationship will go by (but also not being clear about what it is, leaving Nick in limbo; offering to let Nick say whatever he wants to others while being clear that Boston doesn't think they need definition - this is a Nick failing/fault to need so), Ray telling Sand he just needs to go with the flow and enjoy things

control through sex - Mew withholding sex from Top to see if he sticks around, Boston pushing himself on Top in the shower, Boston showing the photo of Mew and Ray to throw off Top and then hooking up with him

control through deciding who can be with who - Boston presenting Mew as an option for Top, Boston feeling ownership over Top and not wanting others to be with him, Boston showing Top pictures of Mew and Ray together in the hopes of getting them to break up, Boston getting involved with Ray's crush on Mew, Mew encouraging Ray to go after Sand

control through money - Ray offering amounts of money Sand can't refuse to spend time with him

tagging in the ephemerality squad if they have anything to add/any thoughts: @chickenstrangers @lurkingshan @waitmyturtles

@rocketturtle4

[certified-ni-ki-lover]

Chapter 3: Escape Plan

TXT Yeonjun Series

Series Masterlist

Summary: You never thought of yourself as special. To you your looks were average, academics were average, and you were pretty much an average, ordinary girl. But who would have thought you would have someone obsessed with you?

Word count: 780

TW: Mentions of yandere behavior, swear words

Disclaimer: This is all purely for entertainment purposes. I don't promote or support any Yandere behaviors

MASTERLIST

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .

You looked at him suspiciously. “& why should I trust you?” you asked. No matter how badly you wanted to escape this hellhole, you weren’t going to trust anyone so easily. That’s what got you stuck in this situation in the first place. “Then don’t. It’s not like you have another option” the man said. He was right, none of the other workers would dare to even look in your direction or talk to you, let alone help you escape. So, you decided to trust him since you had no other option. “Fine,” you said sighing. You weren’t going to trust him completely though, it was too soon for that, so you kept your guard up around him.

Speaking about him, you were curious to know about him. For starters his name, & then how he knew or met Yeonjun & why Yeonjun had decided to hire him to watch over you out of the blue. He seemed to read your mind because he gave you all the answers without you asking him. “Taehyun,” he said. It took you a minute to realize that was his name. “I’m Y/N,” you replied, “I know who you are,” you looked at him confused. “I go to your school. I’ve seen you around,” he said. You had never seen him around before, so you figured he just kept to himself most of the time. “How did you start working for Yeonjun,” “That’s none of your business” he replied coldly. “Ok then,” you said trying to change the subject, “So is there a reason you're helping me? Like is this some sort of trap or something?” you asked. “No, I just feel sorry for you,” he said. “Wow ok, so what’s your plan?” you asked. “I assumed you already had one,” he said with a black face. You sighed & just told him your plan & what was holding it back. “That’s fine, I have a better plan,” he said. “Then why didn’t you say so earlier??” you asked slightly raising your voice at him, “I just wanted to hear what you already had in mind, but since it’s going to be a total failure, we won’t be trying that,” he said. Wow, rude much.

***TIME SKIP***

You were laying on your bed wide awake; it was around 2 AM. Taehyun was probably fast asleep in his room by now. But you were still awake thinking about your escape plan. You decided to go with Taehyun’s plan. You had to admit his plan was better & much easier. He informed you that Yeonjun had allowed him to take you out for only one day, he informed strictly, before that day you both would pack some essentials, not too much though & Taehyun would place them in the car before morning, so the guards don’t suspect anything when they see you leaving with a bag. Then from there, you’ll have to go to a mall since Yeonjun had placed a tracking device in the car & if he sees that you are heading somewhere else you know he will send people after you. So you would abandon the car in the mall parking lot & now you had to get rid of your phones since he would track that later to find you. But to keep Yeonjun occupied after he finds out you ran away you were going to use them as a distraction. You & Taehyun would take a taxi to Busan. You’ll take a random subway to some town & place Taehyun’s phone in some alley. Next, you’ll go to Jeonju & leave your phone in some alley.

After you get rid of everything that he could use to find you. You both will travel to Mokpo & stay there till Taehyun can get all your new documents, new passport, new names, everything, so you can leave the country & go somewhere else to make sure neither of you ever meet Yeonjun ever again.

You wondered how he thought of such a detailed plan so quickly & why he was even helping you. From what you heard from a few servants around he was getting paid a huge amount just to keep you here. & The amount you heard so sure a lot, it could pay your rent for almost two years. You also wondered how he knew Yeonjun & started working for him. No matter how many times you asked him, he never told you.

But right now, that wasn’t your problem. You had to get some sleep for tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day. If everything went perfectly according to Taehyun’s plan, it would be your last night in this hell hole….

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .

Tag list: yutacchin (Send ask to be added)

[polyhexian]

Okay I might be on to something, get ready for some vague what-ifs I've been pondering all evening.

So we haven't really delved into the runaway au's political scene much, but several things have been brought up that make for ingredients in what could be a very interesting pie:

Belos has built Will up as a super important and integral part of his regime.

Will actually has good self-esteem and has independantly come to the conclusion that there's something fishy going on here.

With an adult Golden Guard at Belos's side, the government is probably even stricter.

Will and Lilith probably don't like each other.

Open rebellion is super risky and we don't know what Raine's up to.

So starting with Belos and Will - Belos's manipulation tactic with Will is to basically butter him up. Oh, my Golden Guard is SO loyal and competent and brave, whatever would I do without him? And he has been doing this since Will was picked, and for an added bonus he probably hasn't even been beating Will to a bloody pulp for any perceived failures (it probably rankles Belos to hold back on a potential punching bag like that, but he still doesn't know what set Jasper off so he's being careful with this one). So right off the bat, Will has a good foundation of self-esteem for his developmental journey.

Now, Will could have gone a different route and become co-dependant on Belos. Belos is the one with the real authority and could take Will's power away whenever he wants, and that could have led to Will being blindly and exceedingly loyal. But we know from Lament that Will is curious, and he likes to experience things, and he pursues the truth. And dictatorships are always chock full of logical fallacies.

So it's probably a bunch of little things that slowly set off Will's alarm bells. Things that just…don't add up. Why do we do this instead of that? Why is this inefficient policy a thing? Why do I get the feeling that the cruelty is the point?

Maybe the palismen are a part of it - Will may not care for palismen personally, but he watches Belos eat one and thinks, there has GOT to be a better treatment for this curse that doesn't rely on such a limited resource, but Belos just flat-out refuses to hear it. He might not beat Will for bringing it up, but the fact that he shoots the idea down immediately is just…why would you NOT want to research other options? That's just stupid.

The entire situation with Jasper is another inconsistency. So this guy was the last Golden Guard, he's armed and highly dangerous, he has government secrets and may be plotting a coup, and he stole the Grimwalker that was supposed to replace him. A Grimwalker who was…a baby. Belos might brush it off like "He likely wanted to buy more time before I could send someone after him" but as Will hunts them down it becomes clear that Jasper still has the kid. Every time he questions people in a town Jasper passed through, they're like, "oh, yeah, that father and son, they were sweet, the spitting image of each other except for the scars." There is no strategic reason to kidnap and keep a baby that no one is going to pay a ransom for, in fact that is the opposite of a sound tactical decision, and yet Jasper did exactly that. Why??

He probably brings it up to Belos and is given the ol' "who can truly understand how wild magic corrupts us" non-answer, and Will is getting REAL TIRED of hearing that spiel.

Now, part of Belos's buttering up of Will is giving him governmental authority, and that could make things interesting. Hunter was technically a Coven Head, but everyone in the castle saw him as a child and a brat and didn't respect him. Jasper had military authority but wasn't a Coven Head, and the Coven Heads seemed to think they were above him. But Belos isn't going to allow anyone to play those games with this Golden Guard - he can't afford to lose Will to political pettiness, he isn't going to tolerate anyone trying to instigate anything. Will is also an adult, so he has that advantage over Hunter, and without the uncle/nephew connection no one's going to accuse him of being a nepo baby, though it is weird that he just came out of nowhere. But most importantly, the Emperor clearly favors this Golden Guard, and it's a sort of situation where the Coven Heads realize it's better to gain the Emperor's attention by working with the Golden Guard, rather than see him as competition to remove. The Golden Guard is the ticket to the Emperor's approval--even if they don't LIKE him, they aren't gonna undermine him.

That doesn't make the government any better or the coven system more efficient, of course. If anything Will is surrounded by ass-kissers and people who tolerate him, lol. But he doesn't have to worry about people trying to stab him in the back, usually. There's some actual, real working relationships going on there. His colleagues talk to him and ask for his input and pass him information and trade favors with him.

And then there's the comparisons to Jasper - not from Belos, but from everyone else. Oh, you're SO much more competent than the LAST Golden Guard. He was good at his job, but he upset the Emperor SO often, he had SO many curse-induced fits because of him. You've NEVER upset the Emperor THAT much! And you actually help out with governmental things, the last one couldn't be bothered! Also don't take this the wrong way but it's almost a relief you don't speak, the last two guards' voices were SO annoying.

And Will is just. Gathering intel here. Like. Huh. This Jasper guy made Belos so angry he'd have curse-induced fits? All the time? Jasper apparently had limited governmental authority. This is WEIRD.

Heck, maybe Darius unintentionally says something that tips Will off. Until little Hunter shows up on his doorstep, Darius is the same sad, bitter, miserable man he was at this point in canon, minus a child to bully. Will may not ever show his face, but Darius still feels like Jasper is being replaced and he doesn't like the new Golden Guard. Maybe he likes him even less than he liked canon!Hunter--it took 13 years for Hunter to become the Golden Guard, but here Jasper disappears and Will is taking his place a year or two later? Ouch. Darius would NOT be happy with that.

Darius maybe says something like "You ought to know that your predecessor's magic was far more impressive than yours, but all his hard work was hardly ever appreciated. You'd best not take the Emperor's favor for granted." And Will is just like. Okay. Jasper was a super-powerful witch and Belos didn't care about him much, but he claims to care about me a LOT. What the HELL was going on there??

Moving on - I posit that Will is highly competent at his job. And I don't just mean that in a super-cool ass-kicking Golden Guard way. I mean he has leadership skills out the wazoo, both in the field and in the office. In the field he does his best to minimize casualties, his briefings give his scouts clear goals, plans, and backup plans, he doesn't throw scouts over a cliff just cuz he's frustrated. In the office his managerial skills are top-knotch. He understands the powers of administration and delegation. He prioritizes communication and constructive criticism and recognizes hard work. He's the manager that someone tells you they have and you're immediately jealous because that guy is an AWESOME manager.

Belos gave Will power and responsibilities and he uses them wisely. The Emperor's Coven has never been as efficient as it is under this man. (He is so frustrated by how long it took to MAKE it that efficient. The coven is supposed to be the Emperor's fist, but Belos doesn't seem interested in doing what it takes to make sure said fist hits as hard as possible. Why are they all so sleep-deprived? Why do they only get one day off?? It took YEARS for Will to convince Belos to give them quarterly days off. It's like the guy WANTS them overworked and miserable.)

The coven scouts LOVE Will. He has their back and they're happy to have his.

Will doesn't like how Belos treats his coven scouts.

And then we have Lilith.

Now, after everything I've suggested, we COULD say that maybe Lilith doesn't mind Will. Maybe she'd want to foster a good relationship with him to build up her own favor with the Emperor. But this is Lilith, she's kind of full of herself and has been a Coven Head for a few years by the time Will shows up and she knows how Belos treated Jasper. Maybe she expects this Golden Guard to be the same, and she's too used to the castle's games, and she says one too many snide things and ends up on Will's bad side before she realizes the rules have changed. I don't think they'd be antagonistic towards each other, but they certainly don't LIKE each other much. Or she doesn't like him, and he's just decided to deal with her as little as possible.

It probably drives her crazy that he's ACTUALLY good at his job. Like, the Emperor favors him, and it's FOR GOOD REASON. UGH.

They still have a working relationship though, because she can grit her teeth and deal and Will is a consummate professional. She's told him everything she knows about Jasper for the sake of the investigation. She doesn't teach him how to teleport, though.

But the whole situation with Jasper is starting to form cracks under her feet. Jasper was loyal. She knows Jasper was loyal. Belos beat him bloody and tore up his face and Jasper just took it. He did everything Belos ever said, and oh, it was amusing to watch when he got in trouble, but she can't deny that Jasper was insanely good at his job and followed Belos's orders to the letter and was incredibly loyal until he suddenly wasn't.

And the moment he stopped being loyal, Belos immediately called for the death of his most trusted servant. Over a decade of service and dark deeds done in the Emperor's name, and it bought him zero leniency.

Eda has never been loyal to the Emperor. Eda has never cared for the empire. Eda has been an active criminal for decades. She breaks the law on a daily basis and flaunts it. She is very publicly vocal about how much she hates the system. She has done absolutely nothing to earn the Emperor's mercy, and if someone as loyal as Jasper can't even be granted that mercy, then how can Lilith trust that Belos will--

She'd be in denial for a long while, of course, but the cognitive dissonance is THERE. Heck, maybe Will is even the one to make it fully click in her head. She's talking to him about some upcoming mission to capture Eda, humble-bragging about how great it'll be to have her sister by her side in the coven, they'll be an unstoppable force and a valued asset to the Emperor--

And Will, who's getting fed up with how fishy everything in this castle is, just looks at her like. Wait, the Emperor's super strong at healing curses? Why hasn't he been able to heal his own? That would be way more efficient than inhaling palisman. Or he just snorts like yeah, sure, and Jasper's gonna be so happy I held down the fort for him while he was away on sabbatical.

And Lilith has to excuse herself and go to her room and pace a hole into the carpet because fuck. FUCK. She doesn't want this to be a lie, she NEEDS this to be real, but she can't deny that there are discrepancies that just. Aren't adding up.

She might not become a rebel. But she might become a bit less zealous about taking Eda in. Oh, she still ACTS committed to doing so, but her actual attempts don't have the same bite. She starts digging into things she may have ignored before - feeling out what Belos's agenda is, researching forbidden history, what even IS the Day of Unity and why are all the Emperor's explanations such non-answers? And at first she maybe does it in a desperate attempt to convince herself that no, NO, Belos is perfect and right and I'm not wrong. But the more she looks the more she sees.

She doesn't know what to DO with it. Rebellion is probably still out of the question, she's not quite there yet. But she doesn't want to be alone with this, she's reeling and questioning everything and it's driving her crazy. She can't tell Eda, her sister would hoot and holler and say I told you so, and she doesn't need that.

So who's someone Lilith would know, and be predisposed to trust, and was kind of open about the fact that they were joining the coven system to try and improve it from the inside?

Raine Whispers.

YESSSS OKAY I LOVE BASICALLY ALL THIS

I think Lilith stays covenhead, it seems like it might be a "until you die" position. But will IS still in charge of a lot of military stuff. He never speaks, but he can still issue written orders, like, sending an illusory note telling people where to report or what shift to take.

Will is cool and efficient. He questions Belos a little more often than he would like. If Belos tells him to go burn some wild witches house down and then fight and capture them, well-- that's stupid. I'll just sleeping nettle them and take them in peacefully. He always gets the job done, but not necessarily how he's asked. I think he DOES pass a lot of reforms to make the emperor's coven more efficient, but he's so scary and off-putting because he never speaks and just sort of looms over anyone that tries to talk to him, people still avoid him. He's more well liked than jasper was, but he is scary. Unlike jasper, though, they do think he's a person. Unlike jasper; whom they had rumour about like he didn't bleed or couldn't be killed. He's just more... Elusive.

I think will is also a lot stricter than jasper. Just not sloppy.

GOD I LOVE LILITH AND RAINE TEAMING UP THO THATS SO FUCKING GOOD AHHHHHHH omg... Neither of them are ready to involve Eda but... Omg. Will asks why they don't just bring the owl lady in. we've never REALLY pursued her effectively. And Belos says some dismissive shit and to let Lilith worry about it. But will is like. That's dumb. I'll put together an outfit and just go get her right now. Uh oh!