#i must be doing something wrong if this asshole is enjoying life more than me. what do you MEAN we both have anxiety.

[gootube]

band au eva and skuggy is a crack dynamic i think about more than i should

[dadbodbuck]

i had a bad day and then @tommystummy started talking about bucktommy arguments and this scenario came up and i latched onto it like a moray eel. please enjoy some raw, unedited tommy kinard angst

Tommy doesn't like talking about it. It being the roughly five years he worked under Captain Gerrard, alongside Howie and Hen, when he was deeply closeted and a major asshole. He can make his excuses, he can try to convey the feeling of looking into someone's eyes and only seeing your father's. He can admit to the humiliating nightmares he used to have of his father storming into the fire station and screaming at him. Neither of those are reason enough to be callous towards people who were being tortured in their own workplace.

Howie and Hen were much quicker to forgive him than Tommy was. In fact, it seemed like it only took one mumbled apology for them to shrug it all off. Water under the bridge, they had said. Just don't do it again.

And God, Tommy never did. After that, after finally taking his sexuality out of the box deep in the animal part of his brain, he told himself he would be different. He expected it to be hard, and on some level it was, but—

Tommy kissed a man for the first time (since high school) forty-eight hours after he was reassigned to the 217, quick and dirty in a bar in West Hollywood. Something in Tommy’s chest clicked into place when he heard the soft, deep moan of a nameless man wearing body glitter. He couldn’t go back even if he wanted to.

Before, he’d been afraid of this exact thing. He’d kept his hands to himself because he knew that his closet wasn’t resealable. It was one-and-done. Gerrard’s boys would have eaten him alive. But Howie and Hen wouldn’t. They didn’t.

It still took him a long time for him to tell them. They didn’t talk often, but they did keep in touch. Tommy owed them so many favors he’d probably be repaying them for the rest of his life, but they seemed more interested in just being his friend. A distant one, but a friend nonetheless.

Distance was fine. Distance was easy. Distance allowed for Tommy to keep his comfortable walls in place, even if he redecorated them a little.

It took him three months to realize how debilitating loneliness was. He was out, now, but without the close, albeit sterile and toxic, friendship of the boy’s club at the 118. Tommy longed for connection. He thrived on it. Something deep, and routine, and constant.

But nobody was volunteering. So Tommy resigned himself to his old hobbies, cars and Muay Thai and basketball, and introduced karaoke trivia to the routine, because he’d always loved singing but never had the guts to do it while he was closeted. It was nice. If anyone noticed Tommy’s near-compulsive schedule of activities, they never mentioned it. The years passed. Howie and Hen grew even more distant. Tommy liked their Facebook posts. He did their favors. He was still lonely, but he successfully put the version of himself he had been on a shelf in the deepest recesses of his brain, never to see the light of day again.

He was a good person now. He was good. He was good despite the skeletons rattling in the closet where his love used to be.

Then, Evan.

No other preamble necessary. Then, Evan. With his broad chest and blue eyes and insane, insane ideas.

Really, was Tommy not supposed to fall in love with him?

Things are great for a while. Idyllic. Peaceful, and exciting, and sweet, and so goddamn sexy, and safe. Tommy feels safe in Evan’s arms.

The problem, of course, is that Evan has this idea that he has to know every part of Tommy. All of him.

“I want to love all of you,” Evan murmurs, as a creeping sense of dread settles in Tommy’s chest, “Even the parts you don’t like.”

Tommy chews on his words, but Evan must sense something is wrong, because he props himself up on an elbow and leans over Tommy, brow scrunched in concern.

“There are parts of me that aren’t worth loving.” Tommy settles on, eventually.

He watches Evan’s heart break in real time, and it does nothing to soothe the growing irritation in his chest.

“I don’t believe that,” Evan frowns, “I think even when you were making mistakes, you were worth loving.”

Tommy huffs a dry, sarcastic laugh. “I beg to differ.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Can’t. Evan doesn’t like this. “Tom, that’s—that’s not how this works. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of you I’m allowed to love. I don’t care what it is. I love you.”

Tommy isn’t going to win this argument, so he doesn’t even try. Instead, he forces himself to relax, and sighs. “Okay. Sorry, honey.”

He can tell Evan isn’t buying it, by the disbelieving set to his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lays back down and presses a gentle kiss to Tommy’s shoulder. It feels a lot like another declaration.

“I love you too,” Tommy says, bringing one of Evan’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. Evan revels in physical touch—it’s one of his favorite love languages, although he enjoys pretty much all of them. Mostly, Tommy thinks Evan was just love-starved for a long time.

Tommy is positive beyond doubt that Evan was never like him. It takes little talking to Howie and Maddie to confirm that he’s always presented his heart on a platter, warm and bleeding for whoever wants to carry it. There’s no universe where a callous man like Gerrard would have turned Evan into what Tommy was. Evan has never been a coward.

Tommy hopes that’ll be the end of the argument, but the next day, Evan sits down on the couch and says, “I know talking about your past is painful for you, and I don’t want to force you to tell me anything.”

Tommy senses a conjunction and chooses to remain silent.

“But,” there it is, “I don’t take back what I said.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” Tommy grunts, knowing he’s closing himself off.

“Then let me say it,” Evan presses, “There is nothing in your past that would change how I feel about you.”

“You don’t know that,” Tommy says, through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what I was like to Howie and Hen when they first joined the 118. I said things I shouldn’t have. I let Gerrard and his cronies get away with even worse. I let them get hurt, and I did nothing, because I was a coward.”

Evan looks at him with big, sad eyes. “You were scared.”

“I should have done the right thing anyway,” Tommy argues, “You think Howie and Hen weren’t scared? You think they weren’t terrified? Hen got up in front of everyone and gave us this big speech about how proud she was to be gay, to be black, to be herself. And all I did was stand there with this pit in my stomach. Like if anyone looked over at me they would just know, and then I’d be a pariah. Like her.”

“Tommy,” Evan says, dismayed, “She’s forgiven you so many times over for that. Beating yourself up about it does nothing.”

“It holds me accountable,” Tommy says, “It keeps me from being that person again. I hate the person I was back then. You would have hated him, too.”

“Maybe,” Evan shrugs, like it’s just that easy, “But I try not to hate people. I certainly don’t hate my loved ones for making mistakes. And that’s what you did. Make a mistake. Now, looking back on it, I can see that version of you. That Tommy, who was afraid and in pain. I still love him.”

“Stop!” Tommy snaps, but makes no move to get away from Evan. Evan’s hand stutters, but makes its way to Tommy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love every version of all of my loved ones,” Evan says softly, “I love the version of Bobby who almost drank himself to death. I love the version of Eddie that fought people in the street. I love the version of Chim that punched me. I love the version of Maddie that ran away from me—several times, I might add. I love the version of Hen that almost ended her own marriage when she betrayed Karen’s trust.”

There’s about thirty different stories Tommy wants to explore in there, but Evan doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “And I love the version of you that stood by and watched because he was too scared to intervene.”

Evan leans in to plant a tender kiss to Tommy’s cheek. “I love him, and I love the Tommy who was in Iraq, and I love the Tommy who was almost a high school dropout, and I love the Tommy who loved to go hiking after middle school, and I love the Tommy who was late learning how to walk but early learning how to read. It’s not hard. He’s you.”

“I don’t want him to be me,” Tommy confesses, throat tight.

“But he is,” Evan murmurs, soft and soothing in Tommy’s ear, “He’s right here. And he’s doing right by people now. He learned how to be brave. He made amends. Hen and Chim didn’t forgive you because you killed that old version of yourself, they forgave you because you made an effort.”

It’s the first time Tommy’s ever heard it phrased like this, and something about the way Evan says it makes his eyes sting. Evan pulls him into a hug, tucks his face into the crook of his neck, and lets Tommy cry. Rubs his back through it. If Tommy pretends, he could be rubbing the uniform-clad thirty-five year-old firefighter, or the fatigued back of an eighteen-year-old soldier, or the thrifted cotton tee of a middle schooler, or the just-too-tight romper of a toddler. All the Tommies that never got this, all the Tommies that desperately wanted it.

For the first time since his mother died, Tommy is held while he cries, and after nearly thirty years, something in his chest stops aching.

[genderqueerdykes]

in honor of aromantic spectrum awareness week, i thought i'd take the time to talk about how much my personal life and feelings improved after coming to terms with the fact that i'm aromantic. before i accepted this, i found myself in several romantic relationships where i was deeply unhappy, uncomfortable, and made to feel like i wasn't a good enough partner because i just couldn't do or feel certain things.

i've never enjoyed kissing, and cuddling gets uncomfortable for me within the first few minutes of doing so. even hugs are deeply uncomfortable to me unless i really know and care about someone, and even then, hugs only come when that person asks for them. it never occurs to me to touch people this way, the most you'll get out of me is a pat on the shoulder, back or knee.

i ended up dating several people who were very much romantics, and heavily focused on that aspect of our relationship. it kind of felt like torture to me, i felt like i was being forced to live every day like it was Valentine's Day- every day had to be filled with hours of cuddling, kissing, and telling the other person how much i loved them. while not all romantic partners are like this, it wore on my psyche quickly to be paired with folks like this, because i understood how important it was to them, but i just couldn't keep up the performance.

i thought something was "wrong" with me for years and that i just wasn't in touch with my emotions, or that i was somehow embracing some toxic aspects of my masculinity without realizing. it took me ages to remember that i came out as aromantic when i was much younger, but after criticism from my friends, including a friend who was asexual, i stopped identifying with the label, because i was told that aromanticism wasn't real, and that that just made me an asshole.

nearly a decade and several uncomfortable romantic relationships later, it finally clicked that there wasn't something wrong with me, but there was something wrong with the situations i was getting myself into. sure, i love being partnered- i have a queerplatonic partner that i've known for a decade and have only gotten closer to over time. but we've never been romantic. we don't exchange romantic platitudes, and i realized; i've never been happier with someone else than i am with this person.

why is that?

oh. because they don't expect romance from me. they are also on the aspectrum and don't have a romantic partner, either.

this relationship has brought me more joy than any romantic partnership i've ever attempted to pursue. that doesn't mean there's something wrong with me- i was just looking for happiness in the wrong places. i was miserable not because i'm aromantic, but because i was getting into romantic relationships.

romance can be a source of misery. romance does not inherently make everyone happy. we are not all looking for romance as a species. in fact, chasing it makes many people miserable. too many people spend their lives looking for "the one" that they can kiss, cuddle, hold and say all of those mushy things to when they may not even want that to begin with.

i've never been more at peace with myself since finally, fully accepting that i'm aromantic. i love who i am, and i love how i love. i am not loveless, i experience platonic, queerplatonic and other forms of love. but loveless aromantics aren't miserable, either. we are all embracing ourselves in a way that's true to us. we are refusing to warp ourselves to a society that tells us that we all must have homogeneous feelings.

i am aromantic. i am here. my aromanticism is queer in a society that expects and demands romance of me, and this is true of all aromantics, cis, trans, gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, and otherwise. we are here, we are not going away any time soon, and we will not be silent because our identities make some people uncomfortable. we are happiest being who we are.

happy aro week, this goes out to every last arospectrum person out there, appreciate yourselves this week. you deserve it.

[honeygrahambitch]

Jimmy Price stormed into the lab and shut the door closed behind him, making both Brian and Beverly direct their attention to him.

He looked as if he had committed a crime and needed to make a confession.

"I'm going to share something with you but it can't leave this room."

Beverly lifted an eyebrow unimpressed by his theatrics and closed the magazine she was reading.

"Fine."

"You're the Chesapeake Ripper?" Brian asked more for his own amusement but his smile faded when Jimmy's scolding glare was directed towards him. "Alright, alright, go on."

"So you promise you won't tell."

"We pinky promise we won't tell." Brian emphasized.

"I went to grab my sandwich from the fridge. The one that my wife has packed for me. And, after I bit into it I realized it wasn't mine."

"Huh?"

"Not to speak poorly of my dear wife, but the sandwich I grabbed was so excellent that it couldn't have been made by her."

"Asshole." Beverly commented.

"Wait, whose sandwich did you get then?"

"Well, we can do some profiling work regarding that." Jimmy went on. "Caramelized duck. Blue cheese. Fig marmelade."

"You ate Will's sandwich." Beverly concluded instantly and grabbed her magazine.

"Wait, Will can cook like that?" Brian inquired confused.

"Idiot, Hannibal must have prepared it for Will." Jimmy explained as the dread returned to his facial expression. "Oh no...I ate Will's sandwich..."

"C'mon, you can tell Will you bit into it and realized it wasn't yours, he won't be mad about the fact that a bite is missing."

"The problem is...it was so good I couldn't stop."

Beverly closed her magazine again as she and Brian sighed.

"Listen, I will give Will my sandwich."

"Sounds like a fair trade, pal. A ham and cheese sandwich for a Michelin star one. You are lucky Will doesn't care about this kind of things."

Jimmy wanted to say something more but he stopped as Will entered the lab holding some papers, Hannibal right behind him.

Jimmy looked at his friends with the kind of look that says "What the fuck is HE doing here?"

Beverly and Brian had to make an inhumane effort not to laugh at the situation.

Jimmy felt the weight of his crime even harder now that Hannibal was in the room. The man had put all his love into that sandwich for Will and he had eaten it with no hesitation. And poor Will was probably starving.

"Jimmy? Did you-" Will started but Jimmy cut him off before he could finish.

"YES. Yes, it was me. I apologize, I just couldn't stop, it was amazing. It was the best sandwich I had in my life and I-"

"What are you talking about? I am asking you about Alison Brown's blood work." Will was grateful that for once he was not the weird one in the room.

"Yeah, she had diabetes. I ate the sandwich Dr. Lecter has made for you." He confessed again, giving more context.

"Did you enjoy it?" Hannibal asked.

"So much."

"I am pleased to hear that."

Hannibal had already killed Jimmy in three different ways in his head. He had eaten his Will's food. At the same time, he was pleased with the good review. And it gave him a good reason to take Will out for lunch. Will would not starve himself while he was there to help him with the case.

He made the quick decision not to end Jimmy's life that evening.

"You're fine. Hannibal is not the Chesapeake Ripper, you won't die." Will said as he returned his attention to the file he was holding. "Now, what was wrong with Allison's kidney?"

Hannibal eyed Will in a way that held more meaning than Will's colleagues would ever be able to understand. The fact that Will made that comment being completely aware he was the Ripper, made him smile.

[multific]

Mine, Yours

Alpha!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Omega!Reader

Alpha/Beta/Omega Universe

Warnings: swearing, oral, +18!!!

You felt his anger.

Your alpha was angry.

And you knew just exactly why. Graves thought it would be a fun prank to start flirting with you. While you were sitting right next to your mate!

Philip must have gone insane, you knew he liked to tease the boys but this was a new level.

But soon, he messed up very very badly.

When he said "I bet you I would be a better Alpha to you." it was over.

Everyone saw it coming when Johnny threw a punch at him. Graves didn't even have time to react as he fell backwards with his chair. Simon, who sat next to him just took another sip of his drink, unbothered.

"Say that again and I will make sure you will regret even being born!" Johnny was mad, you have never seen him so angry.

It both scared and turned you on.

Another punch was thrown at Graves because he said something you didn't hear. Your focus was now on Johnny.

You stood up, making everyone look at you.

"Let's go home." you said but Johnny didn't listen. You knew it was time for the big guns. "Alpha, please take me home." you said with your best submissive voice, and it finally worked.

It almost even made Simon stand up but he had to remind himself, you weren't his.

Johnny quickly scooped you up and ran out of the bar.

Simon also stood up, leaving Graves on the floor as he headed to the bar to ask for another Bourbon. 

You heard Johnny mumbling something to himself, you understood a couple words such as, dickhead, asshole and something about a hole in his head.

But you knew better than to say a word.

You just let him carry you back home, rubbing his back to hopefully calm him a little.

Johnny had only one weakness, your Omega, you.

And although you were a strong woman, you also knew that Johnny liked the innocent type. He had a thing for protection, much like other alphas.

So, you often liked to play the part of damsel in distress. 

You were convinced Johnny thought you were genuine during those moments, and you didn't want to burst his bubble. Plus, you very much enjoyed seeing him be so though and strong.

So, when you arrived home, and Johnny didn't want to let go of you, you knew that the curtains were up, it was your time to shine.

"You are mine! How dare he?!" his pupils were blown, and his eyes looked foggy, your Johnny was only a shadow of the Alpha in front of you at this moment.

"Alpha," your voice came out a lot softer than you anticipated. You felt a shiver running down his back as you looked at him and he watched you. "You protected me." he silently nodded. "Can I reward you?" he slightly tilted his head, not understanding.

But when you sank down to your knees, the fog lifted from his eyes and it became dark. 

"Can I reward my Alpha for keeping me safe?"

Johnny quickly grabbed you and walked into the living room, he sat down on the couch and placed you in front of him, in between his legs.

He ran his thumb down your cheek and moved to your lips.

"Suck me, Omega." he said and you never felt more wet in your entire life.

You didn't need to be told twice, you were quick to undo his pants and get him naked.

He got rid of his shirt, while you remained fully clothed. 

You had only one goal in mind and that was to please him.

It was so easy to do as well.

No matter what you did, he loved it.

He enjoyed everything you can possibly do. Even if you say you have done it wrong, he would tell you the opposite. 

In his eyes, you can do no wrong.

Much like right now.

He kept on groaning and praising you as you tried your best to fit his length into your mouth.

"You don't have to fit all of it, Love. Yes...Yes just like that." he said as you worked your fingers on the part which you couldn't fit.

He smelled amazing, your alpha was truly a sight to behold. Especially when your eyes locked with his as you kept bobbing your head, your tongue flat against his length. 

His eyes were filled with lust, you felt his hips jerk as you moved down once more, keeping your eye contact the entire time.

You knew he was about to come. 

You want him to, you were ready for it.

You wanted to tell him that it was okay to come, if your mouth wouldn't have been full with his cock.

The only warning he gave before he exploded was that he grabbed the back of your head, fist full of your hair as he groaned loudly and pulled you forward.

You watched as he threw his head back against the couch and let go of your hair, you swallowed to remainder of his essence and allowed him to come down from his high.

You slowly stood up and he watched you with half-open eyes as you took off your dress and stepped out of your panties.

"Shower?" you asked and he simply nodded, you smiled at him as you tried to move out of his reach but he was faster.

He pulled your back against his front, his head in your neck as he growled.

"You are mine." he said in such a deep voice, you were already soaking wet. 

He bit down on your shoulder a little bit as you felt his length harden against your back once more.

You were in for a long night. 

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak  @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS 

[pouroverpaloma]

paloma I have revivified my tumblr from its decade-long sleep to beseech you: please talk about Rolan with me because I have Thoughts® and Feelings™ such as: As the eldest sibling do you think he has an oversized and detrimental sense of responsibility that continues to impact him negatively? like during his apprenticeship, do you think he actively avoided Cal and Lia to stop them from either storming the tower themselves or worrying over him when they were supposed to be enjoying being safe in the city, etc. do you think that sense of responsibility extends to Tav or is Tav the person that makes him feel like he doesn't HAVE to be in charge and on top of everything.

also this is hazelrah on ao3!!! I cannot stop commenting on your fics to save my life

Omg hi Hazel!!! ♥️ both Thoughts® AND Feelings™, what a treat you’ve brought for me

As a preface, I’m of the opinion that Lorroakan intentionally isolated Rolan. That’s one of the reasons Lorroakan didn’t let Cal and Lia stay in his fuck-off massive tower. Narcissism and disdain for others also drove that decision, because he’s an asshole, but I really think Rolan can’t be the first apprentice he’s abused. He knew he could never break Rolan’s will if his siblings were there to support him, and, let’s be real, Lia would clearly kill him with hammers the moment he raised a hand to Rolan. He had to get him completely alone.

As for Rolan—I think his gut knew right away that something was very, very wrong with his apprenticeship, even if intellectually he’d talked himself into staying. I think he did the time-old dance of hiding abuse from your loved ones because you don’t know how to explain it, you think you can’t leave, and you’re frankly embarrassed it’s happening to you at all. Imagine him talking about his apprenticeship back in the grove, right? Now imagine him behind the counter in act 3. The whiplash between his aspirations of greatness and the awful reality of life in the tower must have been extraordinarily soul-crushing, on top of everything else. And he just couldn’t let them see that he’d dragged them all to Baldur’s Gate on a false promise.

All that to say: I imagine Rolan told himself that hiding the truth from Cal and Lia was for their own good, but really, he was ashamed and afraid of failing to make them proud.

Because yeah, he feels way more responsible for them than they could ever know or understand. He’s convinced that he has to earn his place in their family by demonstrating his utility. Rolan is caught in that awful trap of trying to deserve what he already has. It’s a self-defeating cycle because there’s no end state: he already has Cal and Lia’s unconditional love from the very start, so nothing he does can ever make him feel like he “achieved” it. He can run himself into the ground trying to earn their love, but he already has it and he’s too caught up in his own self-loathing to see it.

The thing that finally gets his head out of his ass, of course, is Tav. We see him starting to make the turn at the end of the game, when he’s master of the tower and stepping into his confidence, but from there, I think falling in love really shakes his foundations. It forces him to begin to self-reflect in a way he’s never been emotionally safe to do before.

As for how all of this plays out once they’re together! I think their dynamic is a case of unstoppable force versus immovable object. I think he’s going to devote himself to taking care of absolutely everything for them (because nothing could ever be Good Enough for Tav but goddamn it he’s going to try anyway) and Tav is going to devote themselves to taking care of absolutely everything for him (because Rolan deserves rest and gentleness and adoration maybe more than anyone ever has). This kind of all-consuming care manifests in different ways for each of them, some complementary, some adversarial. They get nauseatingly competitive about it but the sex is phenomenal.

And finally—after a while—he begins to understand that he doesn’t have to handle everything by himself in order to be lovable. He can let go of the reins and let Tav be capable sometimes, and it actually makes Tav happy when he does. Somehow, the sex gets even better.

[reaperlight]

Baiting The Dragon

[More post Venom 3 Carnage found family au]

[*Eddie wakes up, tied up next to Cletus in a dark warehouse somewhere, trying to mentally retrace how they got here.

That's right, they were ambushed on the way back from the store.

Aw shit, the groceries....

They were rotting in the street somewhere if they weren't just incinerated by flamethrower. (Goddammit that was so expensive.)

The flamethrowers!

There was no way he would have survived that without Venom.

Venom?

Where was Venom?

Oh, of course--with Flash. He had work today.

Fuck!

They were supposed to meet them for the trade off at six tonight. (What time was it now?)

One moment they were just walking down the street, enjoying a nice sunny day.

The next the blast of searing heat, burning--

Venom wasn't here, how had he survived...?

That's right. Cletus--Cletus pushed him out of the way, He and Carnage took the brunt of it.

Looking over, they still looked to be in a bad way. Were they healing slower than usual?

Eddie's racing thoughts were interrupted when his eyes focused upon the gloating face of someone he was never expecting to see again...*]

Eddie: Oh come on! You are dead. Dead. Go fuck off and stay dead.

Drake: I'm hurt. Truly. Big journal entry about that tonight.

Cletus: Hey Eddie, who the hell is this dipshit?

Eddie: [*Sees it clearly irked Drake to not be recognized*] Oh just some asshole who screwed up my life. Don't worry about it.

Cletus: Oh, I see. Well fuck him then.

Drake: Really, Eddie, I should thank you. Once I got my symbiote under control with the suppressor collar... having the world think I'd burned up in the rocket was a convenient way to fake my death and launder my money so I pay even less in taxes. So, thank you for that.

Eddie: ...No problem. Uh... That means you're going to let us go, right?

Drake: Hmm, no... You may have noticed that you're symbiotes can't come out to play right now. State of the art symbiote suppressor collars. My own design and I spared no expense. Wasn't that nice of me? Say thank you.

Eddie [*Can't let him know he was currently Venom-less because he'd probably just kill him.*] Go to Hell.

Drake: Rude and ungrateful as ever. Long journal entry about it tonight.

Cletus: Gotta say, it's not really to my taste.

Eddie: I think you look good in it. The collar. If not for the whole suppressor thing. But then you can make anything look good. You can make those eyesore Aloha shirts look good.

Cletus: What's wrong with my shirts?

Eddie: Nothing. I just said you look good.

Cletus: What I'm getting from this is you want to see me in a collar. Shall we ask our wife on our next trip to Hot Topic?

Drake: You use humor as a coping mechanism to avoid feeling anything. But don't worry you will feel it by the time we're done with you.

Cletus: Ah, as they say on them internets, 'cool beans.'

Eddie: You know you could have just tried Tinder...

Drake: Brock, I did not seek out your company by choice I assure you. I need you.

Eddie: You... need us?

Drake [sighing]: I have a bit of a problem. Whenever I let Riot out he takes a bit more from me.

Eddie: Well, that sounds like a you problem.

Cletus: Yeah, that's got nothing to do with us.

Drake: Au contraire, but it does. What is it about you? Or evidently your heyseed friend here that allows for a successful symbiosis? I simply must find out. Time is of the essence. What is it about you...? You don't even understand, do you? The gift you've been given.. What an amazing creature you are.

Drake: [*invading Eddie's personal space*]

Cletus: Hey... you only need one of us right? So let him go.

Eddie [*concerned by Cletus's yet labored breathing and slow rate of recovery*]: No, Cletus we are not doing this. [*to Drake*] I'm the one you want. Let him go.

Cletus: Eddie, you really don't wanna see what I'm about to do to this bastard.

[*Eddie realizing that since Carnage is in his blood he could just bite his lip or something and probably get around the suppressor collar thing but no need to let Drake know that.*]

Eddie [*shooting him a knowing look*] What are you gonna do, Cletus? Say mean things to him? Breathe on him hard? You're in no shape for this.

Cletus [*sharing said look*]: Yeah, well neither are you. Stop being so damn noble and get the hell out of here!

Drake [*Looking over both of them*]: ...That's it, isn't it?

Cletus: Don't you dare touch him, you creep!

Drake: [*caressing Eddie's cheek*]

Cletus [snarling]: ...I am going to make you eat your own hands.

Drake: I'm afraid you're a bit too late for that. Drake [*peeling back "skin" to show he has robot hands*]: Riot left to his own devices would have had all of me by now. Time is of the essence while there's still anything left of me.

Eddie: Jesus!

Cletus: No Eddie, don't you dare feel sorry for this asshole.

Eddie: Who says I do? Really, just let me get the world's smallest violin.

Cletus: ...Touch him again and I'll still make you eat those hands. You'll get your daily supply of iron.

Drake [*grinning*]: Hmmm... it seems Brock you have a type. You have no shortage of violent, protective men and entities clamoring to be your boyfriends, do you?

Cletus: ...huh?

Drake: Thats the answer, isn't it? Extreme empathy. That's what makes a successful host. A shame. That's not really a quality one can afford to cultivate in the business world.

Eddie: ...That's why you brought the symbiotes to Earth isn't it? Humans disappoint you. You think you're above them... You're lonely.

Cletus: ...But all you found was more disappointment, didn't you? The same patterns repeat. Because you never did the work. Never reflected why you do what you do or how you got here. Never tried to change or grow as a person. Because of course you're already perfect... why would you need to evolve? But now your 'perfect creature' has rejected you as insignificant and is eating you alive... Well, that's gotta sting.

Eddie: You thought your symbiote would have no choice but to love you, didn't you?

Cletus [*grinning*]: No one will ever love you.

Drake [*has clearly struck a nerve*]: ...you are right. I only need one of you. And I have no use for your boyfriend when I have my Patient Zero.

Eddie: What? No...

[*Shoots Cletus, the bullet impacts his chest and tips his chair over*]

Eddie: No!

Drake [*looking Eddie over, frowning*]: Where is he?

[*Eddie starts laughing.*]

Drake [*realizing*]: Where's Venom?!

[*Eddie needs to keep Drake focused on him, keep him distracted... Give Cletus and Carnage the chance to recover...*]

Eddie [*thinking*]: (C'mon buddy, you regrew your whole fucking head. Don't let a little gunshot bring you down...)

Eddie: You seriously didn't check first? Some scientist you are! One isn't a sample size! [*No, no, no don't look at Cletus, gotta keep his attention on me.*] Even I know that and I'm a journalism major. I learned that in high school science class!

[*Good, Eddie could see Carnage seeping out of the wound but clearly needed to dismantle the nullification collar in order to start healing him. That was gonna get noisy, he had to figure out something to keep Drake distracted.

Drake [*spitting mad*]: Of course I checked! Your blood is full of symbiote matter!

Eddie: Huh...?

[*Venom must have left something behind when he went off to work this morning. Just like when they left something behind when they spawned Carnage...*]

Eddie: Oh shit, we're pregnant again aren't we?

[*Shit shouldn't have said that around the wannabe mad scientist.*]

Drake: Pregnant? Again?

[*Did he just break him?*]

Drake: He abandoned you while you were pregnant?!

Eddie: He didn't abandon me. He... [*he's working, but that's classified and even that sentence would be a bit too revealing*] He just has shit to do.

Drake: Oh sure... I'm sure he's gone to get a pack of cigarettes, he'll be back in ten minutes.

[*Eddie knew Flash and Venom were currently helping some Skrull refugees move into their new home in Queens but that was classified and Drake didn't need to know that*]

Eddie: That sounds like that might be more of your issue, dude. I trust Venom. And he trusts me. I know he'll come home to me.

Drake: ...How touching. A pity you won't be alive for him to come home to.

Eddie: Really, I thought you needed me?

Drake [clearly at the end of his patience]: Not much longer, I assure you.

Eddie: Well in either case, when he returns, finds out what you did... and he will, he's gonna find you and he's gonna eat you.

[*If Carnage doesn't do it first which seemed increasingly unlikely. C'mon you bloody ooze, you can do it...*]

Drake [*sighs*]: ...You understand given my circumstances that's not exactly a threat to me. If anything that would be a mercy.... but... What did you mean again? This has happened before?! You've been pregnant before?!

Eddie: I don't really see how that's your goddamn business.

[*On the other hand that was the perfect distraction they needed.]

Drake: You survived, uneaten, not only as a host but incubating it's offspring, multiple times? Of course it's my goddamn business! How?

Eddie: ...Are you asking me how to have sex or...? Well, you see when a symbiote and their host love each other very much...

[*Drake slaps him, Eddie laughs again too amused to even mind and too relieved seeing more of Carnage break free and that Cletus was still breathing.*]

Eddie: ...Well I imagine the normal way one gets pregnant with an alien... You ever see Alien? You should really talk to Riot about it honestly because really that's between you and him...

Drake [tersly]: We don't talk anymore.

Eddie: Well then... who says you're not already a mom too? I'm sure you've been with him long enough to be popping them out. Maybe he was laying eggs in you while you were sleeping--

[*They were interrupted by the metallic screech of Carnage's nullification collar being ripped to shreds*]

Drake: [*making a face journey as he realizes that 1. They tricked him 2. A symbiote had worked out how to get around his nullifier within minutes and 3. Riot was fully capable of learning from that.*]

Carnage: [*Fully restored, letting out a furious roar. Eddie wondered if they'd absorbed a bit of Shriek's powers when they bonded because the roar shook the warehouse to its foundations*]

Eddie: You may wanna be running, it seems my eldest daughter isn't too happy with you right now.

[*Drake is slammed from behind by a mass of red tentacles*]

Eddie: Oops, too late. [*To Cletus and Carnage*] Thanks.

Cletus: Eddie, you okay?

Eddie: Yeah? You?

Cletus: Never better. Let us get you out of that thing.

Eddie [teasing]: You don't think I look good in a collar?

Cletus: Oh you look very fetching but I'm sure your husband would get jealous and I'm not in the mood to get my head bitten off again.

Eddie [*regarding Drake, knocked unconscious on the ground*]: Do you think maybe Teddy or Sadie could--

Cletus: What did I say about feeling sorry for this asshole?

Eddie: I know... I know. It's just... wouldn't it be better to know where he is rather than wait for them to regenerate and try this shit again? And even if Riot ate Drake--Riot on his own could be a problem. We should call this in.

Cletus: We need to call Venom and Flash anyway to let them know why we're running late before they tear New York apart looking for you.

Eddie: They wouldn't...

Cletus: Eddie... They would. It's what we would do if the circumstances were reversed, is it not?

Eddie: Shit. Where's my phone? And we still need to get groceries, what all did we need again?

Cletus: The usual for us--chocolate, milk, eggs... also more soy and coconut milk for Frances. She wants to make cookies.

Eddie: Oh, nice!

Carnage: So, father... what are you going to name my siblings?

Eddie: Huh?

Carnage: You're carrying twins.

Eddie: Oh right... that happened. I think... I think I need to sit down here for a minute.

Carnage: How about Slayer?

Cletus: [*to Carnage*] You already named your cat Slayer. [*To Eddie*] I'll call Flash.

Eddie: Thanks. I appreciate it. I really do.

[pixeldistractions]

warnings: oh, it’s long. but it’s chatty, so it should go fast...

Jordan was enjoying a pleasant evening at camp and he really didn’t want to bring the mood down. There was absolutely no way Colette had anything pleasant to say.

So…

Colette: declined. Colette: declined.

He would let her complaints go to voicemail, like he usually did.

Then, a short while later, a call from Milo, which was unusual because he’d spoken to the boys only an hour ago.

“Hey, what’s up, buddy?”

But it wasn’t Milo. It was Colette.

“It’s endearing, truly, how quickly you answer the phone for your son.”

“What are you doing on Milo’s phone? Where is Milo?”

Colette’s voice in his deeply-buried memories shouted, Answer your phone, you asshole. He’s dead. Why aren’t you here? You need to be here!

Several combined nightmares flashed through Jordan’s head—that he didn’t answer Colette’s call and something was wrong this time, that something happened to one of the boys, that he wasn’t there, that he didn’t get to say goodbye. Again.

“He’s fine,” Colette said. “He’s playing basketball across the street. But you wouldn’t have answered if I called you from my phone.”

Exhale.

Maria watched him with wide eyes. He patted her shoulder as he got up, mouthing, It’s okay.

He walked off into the dust where they couldn’t hear.

“You blame me for not answering? You usually don’t have anything productive to say.”

“What was so important you can’t answer?”

“My whole life is important,” he said.

“What if something happened?”

“I read the texts, I listen to your nasty voicemails. I talk to them every day. I talked to them just an hour ago. I knew it was just going to be your usual nagging.”

“So, this is what we do now? You send my calls to voicemail, then answer back hours later with a text?”

“It works for me,” Jordan quipped. “How’s Milo’s homework?”

Milo had shown him his most recent report card already, and it was solid B’s and C’s. She couldn’t fault him on that.

“It’s a passable idea only because you’re not here to help him properly,” she said.

“Hate me if you want,” he said. “But you don’t have to punish the boys because you want to punish me.”

“I'm punishing the boys? Oh, that's rich.”

“You are, because you like being mad more than you like being happy.”

Colette huffed. “You don’t know anything.”

“Did you actually want something? Or you just called to insult me? This is why I don’t answer your calls.”

“When did you get so snotty? If you were this spunky when we were together, maybe we wouldn’t have broken up.”

“Yes, we would,” he said.

“Yes. I did want something. The boys said you’re coming back in December? Is that true? Don’t promise them things if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know yet. A month, at least.”

“Fine. I’ll set the court date.”

“We don’t have to go to court.”

“Yes, we do,” she sneered. “I want a child support schedule. You need a lawyer. There’s a way to do this and you’re doing it wrong. They won’t give you any custody if you don’t have a place to live. That camper is not a home. Not even summers, not even for a few weeks. And my boys aren’t going to sleep on the floor of whatever skank you’ve hooked up with.”

Jordan bristled at the idea of Colette calling Maria a skank.

“You must be fucking someone by now,” she said. “We haven’t had sex for almost a year. And I knew you were with that blonde skank. The photographer. I watched her channel, and she was going on and on about you.”

God damn it, Ingrid. “It’s not real. None of that is real. She’s a writer. She makes shit up. I’m not with Ingrid. I never was.”

He worried then that Maria had been watching Ingrid’s channel, too.

“To be honest,” she said, “I just don’t believe you.”

She must have sensed something was going on, and he hadn’t been totally honest with her. He didn’t know how much information he owed her, but she was the mother of his children and she had to find out eventually. He was surprised, but proud, that the boys hadn’t spilled the beans already.

“So, I have been seeing someone,” he began.

Seeing someone? It was rather more involved than that by now, since she was here with her child, since they were living together, since she left her entire life for him, since he made an irrevocable promise not to break either of their hearts for now and all of eternity? What do you call that? Quite more than just “seeing someone.” They made vows.

“It’s not Ingrid. Her name is Maria and you don’t know her.”

Colette was so silent on the other end that he thought the call disconnected.

Then she finally asked, “How long?”

“Since August.”

“Do the boys know about her?”

“Yes, they do.”

“Those little fuckers.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “It’s not their fault. I asked them to let me tell you first.”

“Then what took you so long?”

He couldn’t think of a good answer, but she didn’t wait for one anyway.

“You met her at work?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. I did.”

“I knew it, you always loved going in there. Must have been some reason, since the money was shit. How are you seeing someone from work if you don’t live here anymore?”

“She’s here now,” he said. “She moved here. She’s living with me. We’re living together.”

“Living together. Ha! She’s living with you, in your camper? Wow.” Colette cackled into the phone. “She sounds like a real winner. Let me guess: bleach blonde, fake tan, tramp stamp, missing a couple of teeth?”

“Fuck off, Colette.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” she said. “Whatever, I don’t care anymore.”

He could imagine the way her nose swung up, a single sharp intake and a huff.

“Good, how was your date with the doctor? Everything you ever dreamed of?”

Silence again, a few breaths too long. “He drives a Porsche and his dick is bigger than yours.”

“He sounds like your soulmate, better hang onto him,” Jordan said.

“Since when do you believe in soulmates? Oh, God, never mind, I don’t want to hear it. See you in December.”

click

Jordan knew there was little chance Colette actually went on that date. She should, though. She honestly should.

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (10/10)

previously: the blonde photographer // the boys know first // they made vows

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

author’s notes: and that concludes chapter #5.2!

Also I think it makes for a decent transition into #5.3, in which Colette will have the spotlight entirely to herself! (She’s going to love that.)

Chapter #5.3, “hindsight is a bitch” will begin after a short break.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I used to question why I can’t enjoy zk total AUs. Okay, the characters have no future and no chemistry in canon, but what bothers me so much if their relationship takes place somewhere entirely different? And then I realized.

The girl/woman they write about is not Katara. A miserable, hapless and meek damsel in distress, with less backbone than a jellyfish, who silently allows her asshole friends/family to boss her around (even Cinderella protested more – at least she asked for permission to go to the ball and after getting a “no” went there anyway) is not Katara (who never hesitates to tell loud and clear if she doesn’t like something). A cynical and bitter girlboss, so desperately needing to embrace her dark side (and showing no other sides to begin with) is not Katara. A very, very sexy (horny, actually) femme fatale who only lives to screw with hot boys is not Katara. Some sunshine girl next door, so sweet that you’ll get diabetes, and all caring without any goal of her own is not Katara (come on, she’s a model of a well-written female character exactly because she has her own goals). A “strong” woman who suffers in her horrible marriage but only ever throw tantrums instead of doing something about it is not Katara.

The boy/man they write about is not Zuko. Some perfect confident smart person who controls every situation imaginable and is effortlessly cool, James Bond style is not Zuko (he was only truly cool in “The Blue Spirit” I guess, all the other time he was mostly dramatic and I love it). A dream guy who knows all radfem manifests by heart and follows them to a T is not Zuko. A guy who resembles a plushie more than a human being because he’s so soft and uwu and harmless and pure vanilla concentrate, poor victim who never ever did nothing wrong and needs all the comfort is not Zuko (he really is an abuse victim, but this did not make him good in the slightest – other things did). A sexy bad boy with tsundere vibes (“he bullies you because he secretly loves you” bullshit and all that jazz), who a main girl must fix with sex, is not Zuko. A malewife soccer mom, greatest with the kids and household, is not Zuko. A sex god (a rock-drill, according to how his actions in bed are described) in any of these cases is not Zuko (well, I don’t know anything about his sex life, but this is not his main trait anyway, he’s repeatedly shown to be interested in other stuff more).

Anyway, I don’t know all these people and honestly, for some reason they are boring as fuck.

Oh, and this all applies to many zk “in-canon” fics too, actually.

Facts. Also bonus points for acknowledging that Cinderella had a spine, people keep forgetting that on their bullshit "classic disney sucks" takes and it pisses me off.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Twenty-One

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Twenty | Next Chapter: Twenty-Two

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

“I owe you a thank you,” she says to him. “For persuading your father to hear Barnes out.”

It’s Silvio’s turn to shrug. “I don’t need your thanks.”

His words are cold, and it twists something small and painful inside Olivia’s chest. “Silvio?” She calls his name softly, speaking to him the way one might speak to a wounded animal they’re trying not to scare away.

Read on AO3

As expected, Jarron Barnes doesn’t look happy. 

“You should wipe that look off your face,” Silvio tells him. “You got off easier than I was expecting you to.” He spares a quick glance at Olivia. “And you’re lucky she decided not to mention anything about the kidnapping.”

Barnes doesn’t reply, but his sour expression tells them both everything they need to know about how he feels. 

“It’s not forever,” Olivia says, her tone slightly more sympathetic. She understands how frustrating this must be for him; though his methods were wrong, his motives were not. “Silvio’s right - you were lucky not to get any time in prison, and since probation is just a few short years, you can still enjoy life on Vora and be there to witness the birth of its new government.”

“Small comfort that is when somebody else is taking credit for my ideas,” Barnes mumbles, shooting a pointed glance at Silvio.

“Nobody’s taking credit for your ideas, asshole,” the prince snaps. “And even if everything you suggested comes to fruition, you won’t be solely responsible for making it happen. Have some self-awareness, why don’t you?”

Barnes opens his mouth to respond, but Olivia speaks first. “We could go back and forth like this all day,” she sighs, “and nothing would come of it.” She turns back to face Barnes. “Like I said, it’s not forever. Take care of your restitution, be on your best behavior for the next five years, and do what you can to help Vora and support it.”

Once again Barnes falls silent. Then, without warning, he turns to Olivia. “I guess I do owe you a thank you,” he starts sullenly, his words quiet and his eyes looking at the ground somewhere near her feet. “For not saying anything about the kidnapping.”

Olivia shrugs. “There was no harm done in the long run,” she explains, “and while you went about getting things done the wrong way, your intentions weren’t all bad.”

For some reason, her words make him chuckle. “Yeah… I can see why you’re such a hot commodity around here.” 

She’s still left wondering what that means after Barnes is led away, leaving her alone with Silvio. 

“I owe you a thank you,” she says to him. “For persuading your father to hear Barnes out.”

It’s Silvio’s turn to shrug. “I don’t need your thanks.” 

His words are cold, and it twists something small and painful inside Olivia’s chest. “Silvio?” She calls his name softly, speaking to him the way one might speak to a wounded animal they’re trying not to scare away. 

He isn’t looking at her. She can see his jaw twitching, evidence of the way he’s clenching his teeth. For a moment silence hangs between them, and then he speaks again. “What the fuck do you even see in him, Livvy?” The question comes out quickly, the words jumbled together almost as though he’s forcing them out. 

Olivia’s first thought is that he’s questioning her about Barnes. When what he really means sinks in, however, she draws in a sharp breath. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah,” Silvio replies. This time he does look at her. “At least tell me what I lost to.”

“It isn’t like that, Silvio.” 

“It is, and you know it is,” he scoffs. “So tell me what you see in him.”

“He’s kind,” Olivia starts quietly. “It may not seem like it to you - or to many other people - but he is. He looks out for the people in his care. He remembers all the little details about the men on his crew. He knows all the things that make up who they are, and he treats them accordingly. He’s generous, he’s clever, he’s thoughtful… he’s more prone to sentiment than you might think---”

“You’re right,” Silvio interjects. “I shouldn’t have asked. I guess I didn’t really want to know after all.” He shakes his head. “But what now? How do you build a life with someone like him?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Is that another question you don’t really want to know the answer to?”

Her question gives him pause. He looks briefly away from her, his eyes on his parents standing at the other end of the large meeting room where Barnes’ inquest was held. The room is starting to empty out, and he sighs as his gaze lands back on her. “I never got over you,” he says. There is something he’s let creep into his voice, something Olivia wonders if he’s aware of himself. It sounds like pain. “I never let myself get over you because I always imagined you’d come around. I thought…” He trails off, then starts again. “I thought the life you have now was just something you needed to get out of your system. Something you’d enjoy for a few years until you’d had a sufficient taste of what it was like. I should’ve known better than that, I suppose. You were never meant for a life like this.” 

“But there was always a part of me that was thinking you would come around,” he continues. “Or maybe that part of me was just engaging in wishful thinking. I slept with other women, but I never wanted anything serious. I couldn’t, because what if you changed your mind and came back? What if you decided one day that you did want to marry me?”

His words are like a knife, seeking out the most tender parts of her heart and slicing them to ribbons. 

“Don’t give me that look,” he mumbles grouchily. “That looks suspiciously like pity, and I hate that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. 

“I know you would’ve been miserable with me,” Silvio admits with a sigh. “I knew that back then, and I know it now. Nothing has changed about any of this except the fact that even though I never really had you, I lost you to a man everyone kept telling me was better than me in every way. I lost you to a man who, on paper, should never even be able to compete in the same league as me. He’s a fucking pirate, Livvy. Do you know how humiliating it was to lose the woman I love to a fucking pirate?” 

His present-tense use of the word ‘love’ doesn’t escape her notice. “I wish you would stop saying it that way,” she tells him. “I’m not a prize to win or lose, Silvio. I’m a human with feelings - feelings that even I couldn’t predict.” She inhales deeply and lets that breath out in an exhale, hoping that it doesn’t sound too much like a sigh. “You have to know that I didn’t foresee things turning out like this.”

“I know,” he relents, grudgingly. “But a whole hell of a lot of good that does me now… right?” He sighs, and before Olivia can respond he’s speaking again. “I suppose if nothing else, I have him to thank for my closure.” To her surprise, he offers her a bitter smile. “So thank him for me, yeah? Thank him for being the reason I could finally move on and let you go.” 

Olivia isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s smiling, but it’s bitter and full of sadness, and it makes her heart ache. “Silvio--”

“Let’s make a success of this - Vora’s new government,” he interrupts her breezily, already turning away from her. “One last thing we get to do together, right?” 

He doesn’t wait for her to answer. 

--

“You know,” Prisca starts, “I seem to remember not long ago, there was a headstrong young woman that worked for me who swore up and down that she wasn’t interested in anybody. Less than a year ago, that was… But rumor has it that that same young woman’s part of a set now.” She smirks at Olivia over the rim of her coffee mug. “You happen to know anything about that?”

“‘Long months in close quarters make for unpredictable events,’” Olivia mutters, echoing her mother’s words from what seems like a long time ago. “God, I can’t believe my mother was actually right about me… though not in the way she thought she’d be.”

Her expression makes Prisca laugh. “Mothers have a way of doing that, you know. It’s purely to piss us off.” 

“I’ll say.” She takes a sip of her own coffee. It isn’t quite dawn, and the tavern is still quiet, most of its patrons having stumbled up to their rooms or back to their ships less than a quarter of an hour ago. Olivia knows the peace and quiet of this time will be short-lived; soon Prisca will have a morning rush, and the cycle of business will begin anew. 

“Wasn’t hard to see it coming though, Livvy,” Prisca asserts. “He’s been head over heels for you since that first day he asked me if you were for hire.” 

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“It is,” the older woman insists. “A body only had to look at him whenever you were in a room to know how he felt about you. He may have busied himself with other girls, but I’d bet everything in my money chest he was just passing the time until you came around.” She looks past Olivia’s shoulder, to the open door of the Sundance. “And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Puzzled, Olivia turns and follows Prisca’s gaze. “Oh,” she says softly, when she spots him standing in the doorway. 

“Come on in, Grimm,” Prisca calls, as she pushes away from the table and stands up. She addresses her next words to Olivia. “I’m gonna get started on peeling the potatoes,” she tells the younger woman. “Take your time - I’m just getting a head start and there’s no need for you to rush and join me.” With one last knowing look and a smile, she heads in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Olivia says, when he’s seated himself in the chair Prisca vacated. 

“Hey, beautiful.” 

The way he looks at her when he says it makes her want to cover her face. She raises her mug to her face instead, taking another sip of her coffee. “Would you like some coffee?” She asks, poised to go to the kitchen and pour him a mug.  

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks, reaching over and plucking her mug from her hands. He never breaks eye contact with her even as he raises it to his lips, and Olivia has to once more fight the urge to cover her warm face. When he’s taken a sip and pushed the mug back into her hands, he speaks again. “She’s right, y’know.”

“Hm?” She’s busy looking down at the mug in her hands. She lifts it to her mouth, placing her lips over the place where his lips were just seconds ago. There is something about the gesture that makes it feel almost as intimate as the things they get up to when they’re in bed together. 

“She’s right,” he repeats, when he has her full attention again. “Thought it would hurt my ego to say it, but I guess I’m not the man I used to be.” He chuckles. “I wanted ya from the day I met ya, and not just to have in bed. I knew if you’d have me, I’d never touch another woman… wouldn’t even wanna look at another woman.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come around,” Olivia replies softly. 

“What for? It was worth the wait,” he grins. He reaches out, and Olivia thinks he means to swipe her coffee again. He bypasses the mug and lifts her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. “Don’t ever let me wake up from this dream, yeah?”

He stands, letting go of her hand to cup her cheek in his palm. Olivia knows what’s coming when he leans down, but it’s still a pleasant surprise when he presses his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “I’ll come find ya later,” he promises, the words whispered into the corner of her mouth right before he pecks her there. 

“Try to stay out of trouble,” she smiles after him as he leaves. 

He smirks back at her from the doorway. “Now why would I do that?”

--

“Livvy!” Prisca calls from the front. “You got a visitor.”

Her first thought is that perhaps it’s Grimmjow again. She knows it hasn’t quite been two hours since she saw him last, and she is almost loath to admit that even the smallest bit of time spent away from him now feels like an eternity. 

“Coming,” she calls back, rinsing the soapy plate in her hand and setting it carefully in the drying rack with its mates. Quickly drying her hands on the towel hanging from her apron, she makes her way to the front. 

She lets out a gasp of surprise when she sees who her visitor is. “Daisy!” 

The young woman beams back at her. “Hello, Lady Olivia,” she says, dipping into a curtsey. “I wanted to see where you worked.”

“You came all the way here by yourself?” Incredulously, Olivia looks around. The tavern is only about half full, and no one seems to be paying the younger woman any mind. 

“Kenny brought me,” Daisy answers.

“Oh.” She tries not to let the word sound like what it is - a sigh of relief. “Where is he now?” 

“He went on, to the Hellcat,” the younger woman explains. “Said he was going to go see the Captain, but that he would come back and collect me after a little while.”

Olivia nods in understanding. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“Some coffee would be nice,” Daisy says shyly. “It smells really good.”

“Wait right there,” Olivia smiles. “Actually, pick a table. I’ll bring coffee and join you for a bit.”

When she gets back with the tray of coffee, she finds Daisy sitting at a table in the back corner, her hands folded in her lap as she quietly observes the other patrons. Olivia joins her, pouring coffee and pushing one mug towards Daisy while keeping the other for herself. “Help yourself to whatever you like,” she says. She points at the small silver pitcher and the bowl. “Cream and sugar if you take it that way.” Daisy thanks her and prepares her coffee. “Ahhh,” she breathes, after the first sip. “It tastes even better than it smells.”

“Prisca’s been making this coffee for years,” Olivia smiles. “She’s got it perfect.”

“I’ll say.”

“So… things seem to be going well with Kenny,” Olivia starts. 

Daisy’s cheeks flush pink. “I really like him,” she admits, her voice soft. “And he… he really likes me.”

“I can tell.” Olivia resists the urge to laugh, thinking of how inseparable the two of them were on the journey home from Vora. 

“He’s gone down to talk to the Captain about something,” Daisy reiterates. “And I came to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Curious, Olivia raises her eyebrows and inclines her head, indicating she’s ready to hear whatever it is. 

“I wanted to ask you,” Daisy fidgets in her seat a bit, looking down into her coffee. “If it would be okay for me to come with you when you go back to Vora.”

Surprised, she stares at the younger woman. “With me?”

“Yes,” Daisy nods. “Maybe not as your lady’s maid if you don’t need one. Just as… a helper.”

Still a little stunned, Olivia shakes her head. “But… Daisy,” she starts gently, “you know I’ll be there for at least two years, right? This isn’t just a visit where I’ll be staying for a few weeks and then coming back to Clario. This is,” she pauses, the gravity of the words hitting her hard. “It’s not a permanent stay, but it is long term.”

“I know,” Daisy nods with a smile. 

“What about your mother? And the queen? Weren’t you training to take over for your mother before you left Clario?”

“I was. But in my absence, my mother began training my sister. She’s only a year younger than me, and she would have learned anyway.”

Olivia chuckles; she can’t help it. “Oh, Daisy,” she sighs helplessly, when her laughter has subsided a bit. “It seems I’ve rubbed off on you in more ways than one, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Daisy chirps brightly. “My mother wasn’t upset, you know. She says life at sea must have done me good because I’m less timid and mousy now than I was when I left.” She smiles. “And believe it or not, she really likes Kenny too.”

“I’m glad to hear it, on both counts,” Olivia says sincerely. “And if coming to Vora is what you want, then I’ll be happy to have you along. Is that what Kenny’s gone to see the Captain about?”

Daisy nods. “He wanted to ask if it was ok for me to come along on the Hellcat.” 

“I’m sure the Captain will be alright with it,” Olivia tells her. “He’s very fond of you.”

“Though not as fond as he is of you,” Daisy laughs. 

“Now I’m sure of it,” Olivia laughs with her. “I’m definitely rubbing off on you.”

Previous Chapter: Twenty | Next Chapter: Twenty-Two

Tag List: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali

[landofzero-archive]

Absolute - The Pure Land 11

(Location: Absolute Stage)

(An hour later. The world’s biggest idol festival, Absolute, is now commencing.)

Gatekeeper: ………

Ibara: It seems like this Absolute is going to be very turbulent, Uncle.

Nonetheless, as the saying goes, “those who enjoy gambling enjoy losing.”

No matter what happens, the system is set up so that you, the owners, will turn a profit. Sooo, I’m not worried about the business aspect of things.

Gatekeeper: …… Little Ibara. Yer alive?

Fuun. You’re still a cheeky brat that flirts with life and death.(1)

In that way, you’re not similar to that Boss at all.

Ibara: “You’re alive?” That's my line. NEGI-shi was worried about you, Uncle Gatekeeper.

Actually, it’s a shame that you’re alive. I was just thinking of getting my hands on your sizable inheritance after you died, Uncle.

Gatekeeper: Haa, it's not like I'll get killed by this disorderly rabble that’s lost Priest, its head.

Inversely, since Priest disappeared after SS, there was a period of time where I also let my guard down.

Of course, I lectured those assholes who attacked me telling them “Don’t fuck with Uncle,” and disciplined them by dropping my fists on their heads.

Ibara: And in reality, you must have done something a hundred times worse than that, huh…… As always, I feel sorry for your enemies.

Gatekeeper: Kukuku. That’s why yer shouldn’t try to pull anything stupid against me, Little Ibara.

The clean freaks of the world have the wrong idea about things.

You can’t erase dirt like me. Because the world is filthy down to it’s very core, no, the world itself is a massive pile of dirt.

To erase all the dirt would mean erasing everything in this world.

The people who want to make the world a more pristine place are the ones with a screw loose in their head.

Ibara: I’d like to somewhat argue against that sentiment. Well, as you can tell from my costume, I don’t have the time for unnecessary discussions at the moment—

Let’s just get straight to the point and ask you what you want to hear.

Although, I’m sure it’s not necessary to ask. The fact that you’re alive and talking so haughtily—

Gatekeeper: Oh. Come to think of it, you brats were also going to perform in Absolute. I was so uninterested that I forgot.

I’m going to say something yer not going to like. When you wear a stage costume like that, you look even more like that Boss when he was younger.

Ibara: I suppose all young children’s faces look the same to you, Grandpa.

Additionally. Appearance-wise, I’m sure he looked more like His Excellency than I do?

Gatekeeper: Don’t lose yer temper. If yer do that, I can’t help but think yer cute …… And?

Ibara: A moment ago, I conducted business with Shaka-shi.

Essentially, I plan to settle this matter by accepting all of his terms and agreements.

Gatekeeper: Fuun, what did that Shaka guy say? Well, I assume I already have a pretty good guess as to what it is?

Ibara: He wanted freedom.

In this land of the free, America, he was simply a slave stripped of his freedom more than anyone else. (2)

And we, Eden, are here to release him from those circumstances.

Gatekeeper: Kukuku. That asshole Shaka is also foolish. He can’t do anything other than singing or dancing; he’s just an amateur who easily gets exploited in the business world.

And yet, he’s trying to set up a match in “our ring” called business.(3)

Ibara: Please don’t lump “us” together. You and I are different.

“I”’m different from you, who snuggled up close to the person you loved more than anyone else and swore your loyalty to him, but couldn’t even reach his heart in the end.(4)

Gatekeeper: ………

Ibara: At first, it was a contract. I was merely the employer, and His Excellency was just a useful tool.

However. Now, that cold and dry relationship is starting to change slightly. Truly, only a little.

The emotions that filled my heart when I heard Shaka-shi’s arguments earlier was probably not merely anger at having my property stolen.

Yes, I would like to think that’s the case.

Gatekeeper: So that’s how it is. As much as possible, let us be yer example of what not to do so yer can achieve your own success.

I’ve said it many times before, but I have high hopes for yer, Little Ibara. If that’s the case, then yer, all of yer, could maybe reach a different future from the Boss and I.

…… God, what a foolish sentiment.

Go on, now. There’s still things you have to do here.

Ibara: Yes. The long-awaited performance by Shaka-shi, the previous winner of Absolute, is about to begin.

This Absolute has been a bit lacking in cohesion and excitement since Priest, who held a great influence over the competition, has died.

If the previous champion, not to mention a huge star who’s won six times in a row, appears, that relaxed atmosphere will be blown right away.

Or rather, everyone might get too excited and an outburst would occur, so please do your best to keep things under control, Uncle.

Gatekeeper: That’s what I came here to say. Yer really should summarize more briefly, yer always so roundabout.

Well, it doesn’t matter. That’s fair, and Uncle Gatekeeper will give you a late New Year’s gift.

Ibara: Thank you very much, Uncle.

Gatekeeper: I don’t need any thanks. It’s not even worth one sen. (5)

For the flow of the story, I’ll act like an uncle and say this. It’s fine if yer an idiot, as long as yer all alive and well— that’s the best thanks yer can give me.

Ibara: I see. My, my, that’s nice and very cheap♪

TL Notes:

The phrase originally used for “flirting with life and death” is “不貞不貞” (futeifutei) which is just the word for being an adulterer written twice. Futei is also a homophone for “不逞” which means insubordination so there’s potentially a pun here as well.

Mod hated writing this line as much as you probably hated reading it. Yes he really used to word “slave” (“奴隷” dorei) here.

He specifically uses the word for a sumo wrestling ring here! “土俵” (dohyou)

Ibara’s using his very rare personal pronoun 俺 (Ore), which is a rude, typically masculine personal pronoun. He usually uses 自分 (Jibun) which is an impersonal, somewhat militaristic way of referring to oneself.

One sen is one-hundredth of a yen. For reference, as of May 14th, 2024, that’s worth 0.0000064 of a US dollar. The sen became invalid as currency in 1953 due to inflation, along with other coins worth less than one yen (like the rin).

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[nicnacsnonsense]

I posted 734 times in 2022

That's 137 more posts than 2021!

427 posts created (58%)

307 posts reblogged (42%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nicnacsnonsense

@ymfingsteadilyon

@chocolatepot

@scribeofpnakotis

@poetic----nonsense

I tagged 659 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#ofmd - 365 posts

#stede bonnet - 233 posts

#edward teach - 111 posts

#izzy hands - 58 posts

#gentlebeard - 49 posts

#blackbonnet - 46 posts

#mary bonnet - 44 posts

#atlok - 25 posts

#the legend of korra - 24 posts

#lucius spriggs - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and i think we’re all agreed that either those historical expectations don’t apply in ofmd or they do but stede’s largely oblivious to them

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I wonder if Ed’s repeated instances of overlooking Stede’s hints at his trauma and emotional turmoil is because when the conversation moves in that direction, Stede switches communications styles.

90% of the time, Stede’s communication style is pretty direct and explicit. Stede means exactly what he says, and if there is something he means, then by golly he’s going to say it. Stede is really out here just saying shit like it’s nothing; telling Blackbeard to suck eggs in hell, calling Izzy a complete asshole right to his face, and telling Ed he’s a good man who wears fine things well. Absent any other pressures this appears to be Stede’s preferred communication style.

Except when he gets to talking about his own hurt, where suddenly he’s all cautious forays and gentle implications. This is obviously a pretty deeply-set trauma response from having been bullied and harassed his whole life anytime he showed softness or vulnerability. This means now Stede is super careful about who he lets see that vulnerability and even if he is confident that someone is a safe person he has to fight past that learned response which can be extremely difficult if he’s not given an explicit invitation to share.

Of course, Ed doesn’t know Stede has this trauma response because he doesn’t know Stede has any significant amounts of trauma. He probably just sees Stede being completely out there about everything else and figures that nah, if there was something really wrong, Stede definitely would’ve said something.

899 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

#4

Less of Ed swooning over bearded, plainly dressed Stede, and more of Ed going, damn, I must love him if I still want to fuck him while he’s dressed up like that. More of the Ed who heard about the fancy man in pristine white stockings and lavender velvet breeches and ordered his men to drop everything and follow that ship. More of the Ed who damn near fainted when Stede expertly folded his silk pocket square and told him he wore fine things well. More of an Ed who has always had a thing for a man in lace and frills and had never been much attracted to any kind of rugged manly look even before years of only really socially interacting with other pirates left him sick to death of it.

965 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

#3

When Ed asks Stede to teach him the ways of an aristocrat, he doesn’t really want to be an aristocrat (as he will discover in episode 5). What he really wants, what he’s really asking for, is “teach me how to let myself enjoy the finer things, how to embrace the things that being me joy.”

Likewise, when Stede says he wants to be like Blackbeard, it isn’t really about being a pirate. What he’s asking for is “teach me how to be someone people respect and like, how to be able to walk into a room and have people be excited to see me.”

And the real trick of it is, the solutions to both those things are exactly the same. Find someone who understands you and loves you for being exactly who you are.

1,372 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

OFMD AU where:

Mary does not hate the ocean

She doesn’t like the ocean either, you understand, but she doesn’t hate it.

When Stede gifts her the model ship she’s just like, fine, you know what, sure let’s do it. She is ready to try literally anything at this point

She does have one condition: if Stede gets to live out his dream life at sea, she wants to explore her passion for painting and hire an instructor to come on board with them. Stede happily agrees. Enter Doug.

Revenge was Stede’s dream name for a pirate ship, but that seems inappropriate for a family vessel, so he goes with his second choice, Royal James.

The Royal James has the same crew as the Revenge does in canon. Stede is not aware when he hires them they are pirates. They are not aware that Stede isn’t a pirate. This causes some confusion when Stede shows up to take command with his wife, their kids, and her painting instructor in tow. Ultimately, Lucius manages to suss out what’s going on and the crew elects to keep the whole being pirates thing on the down low for the moment.

Stede reads his kids a bedtime story every night. After about the first week he notices that the crew is always conspicuously hanging about while this is happening, and story time gets moved up to the deck. Pretty soon everyone starts showing up for story time, even Mary and Doug.

The crew does discuss the possibility of mutiny once. Oluwande is against it; he didn’t become a pirate by choice and he’s not giving up a respectable job with kind employers who pay well to go back to it. Wee John expresses concern for the children if they mutiny. The Swede insists that of course they wouldn’t hurt the children but Wee John is still concerned that the whole thing might be traumatizing for them or something. At that point Jim stands up and leaves, making it clear they do not support any mutiny. The idea fizzle out pretty quickly after that.

There is one aspect of a pirate’s life at least some of the crew would be reluctant to give up, but over the course of a couple of careful conversations across a few different days, Lucius is able to confirm that Mary & Stede don’t have any problem with any of the crew being gay. Stede is especially supportive. Huge ally, Stede. Because even though he’s not gay, he’s for sure interested in women, he absolutely could see why a man might be attracted to another man. Men are very attractive creatures! Even though, again, he personally prefers women. Lucius decides to leave that one to work itself out.

Louis adores Karl. Accordingly Buttons, who is Karl’s friend and can even talk to him, becomes Louis’s new hero.

Mary and Stede decided against bringing an official tutor on board for the children. Instead Lucius helps with their reading & writing and Mary and Stede split any other subjects between them. One day as Stede is teaching the kids math, he sees Frenchie kinda leaning over trying to watch and Stede invites him to join the lesson as well. Soon after everyone in the crew is invited to join in on any of the lessons Stede is giving that they want to. Not everyone is interested and no one is interested in everything, but he does have some takers. Mary is pretty skeptical at first, but Doug convinces her it’s a good idea and she ends up opening up her lessons as well.

The crew also teach the kids things. Practical things about sailing and maintaining a ship, of course, but also things about their own unique interests and skills. Roach teaches them about cooking, Black Pete how to whittle, Frenchie and playing music, etc. Mary does have to put her foot down when Jim starts teaching Alma how to throw knives. Even Stede backs her up on that one.

Miraculously, this harebrained scheme of Stede’s appears to be working? The kids are certainly having fun and Stede… Mary had known he was miserable before, obviously, but she had never fully appreciated what a stunted shell of a person he’d been worn down to until now. Because now he’s thriving, he’s happy and full of life and actually seems to fill up the space he’s taking now. Mary still isn’t in love with him, she never will be, but she doesn’t hate him any more either. She thinks they may be friends now.

Mary is really blossoming too. Not hating her husband has lifted a huge weight off of her, and exploring her passion for painting has really allowed her to find herself. And then there’s Doug, who is so sweet and so supportive. He really understands her, and she’s so happy having him around.

They encounter a Spanish vessel and are boarded under suspicion of being pirates. Unfortunately the Spaniards do not speak ecclesiastical Latin, but fortunately Olu does speak Spanish pretty well.

Not that well.

Jim ends up having to out themself — first as not a mute, and then just goes all in with not a man as well — but they are able to convince the Spanish that they aren’t pirates. Good. However, the Spanish captain is a total asshole and stabs Stede in the gut as they’re leaving just because he can. Less good.

Roach does what he can to treat Stede, but says it’s really bad, and they need to put into port as soon as possible.

The closest port is Nassau, aka the Republic of Pirates. Mary is initially against going there, figuring the next closest port would be less risky for everyone, including Stede, even if it’s further away. The entire crew ends up outing themselves as (former) pirates to convince her they can handle Nassau and everything will be fine.

Everything is not fine.

Blackbeard is also stopped at the Republic of Pirates at the moment and he takes an instant shine to Stede…’s ship. Definitely the ship. He decides to take the Royal James and add it to his flotilla, but that does leave the problem of the Bonnet family. He can’t kill them; he doesn’t kill kids unless they’re, like, really bad kids. He’s not a bloody monster. But just leaving them at Nassau is probably as good as a death sentence for this lot. So he decides to let them stay on the ship until he can drop them off at a different port. In fact, he’s feeling generous, so as long as they don’t make too much trouble he’ll sail them back home to Barbados even.

Mary and the kids will be staying on the Royal James, but not Stede. Stede is going to be brought aboard Ed’s ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, as further insurance of good behavior. And Stede will be staying in the captain’s quarters with Ed because of… reasons. Very good reasons Ed doesn’t feel like sharing at the moment.

Oluwande and Jim also switch over to Queen Anne’s Revenge so Stede has some friendly faces to watch out for him. Black Pete really wanted to go over to Blackbeard’s ship as well, but Lucius felt he was most needed with the kids, and as much as Pete wanted to join Blackbeard, he wanted to stay with Lucius more. Awwww.

In exchange for Stede, Olu, and Jim, Ed sends Izzy, Fang, and Ivan over to the Royal James, with Izzy intended to be the new captain.

Izzy is a terrible captain, and everybody hates him.

Still, a standard throwing-him-overboard mutiny seems a bad idea with Blackbeard right there. Instead Mary and Lucius tag team him with a combo of girl power and bitch energy. Toxically masculine toxic bottom Izzy completely buckles under the pressure of that much fem dom.

Mary is the captain now.

Izzy runs crying to daddy, but Ed just finds the whole thing hilarious. Mary agrees to give up the Royal James upon reaching Barbados and to stay with the flotilla until then to protect Stede’s safety, but refuses to directly engage in pirate activity to protect the safety of her children. Ed finds those terms agreeable and Mary is allowed to stay captain. This is the last straw for Izzy and he leaves in an absolute snit. All that settled, they sail onward.

And onward.

See the full post

2,654 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thinking about Stede and how he’s concerned about his crew being potentially traumatized by violence and how encouraging and supportive he is of their creative endeavors and how he stood up for Ed against a room full of passive aggressive bullies and how he stood up for Buttons and Karl (RIP) against Jack being a violent bully and how he sat there with Ed as he was having a breakdown in that tub and reassured him that he was a good person and that Stede was his friend, and thinking about that one post that says something like you grow up to be the hero that wasn’t there to save you, and I’m just having a moment here, okay.

2,676 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[angelphylaxis]

Last ten character building questions for miles

You sicko but damn if I must then so be it 😩✌

Putting it under a readmore because damn i be milesposting

48. Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

I would say luna (his wife) but honestly that has been proven wrong thus far - if only because the things he abhors/doesn't wanna do are horrific things like "don't be mean to your squire" and "eat your vegetables". all the women in his life with his best interests at heart would be hard pressed to convince him but it wouldn't be impossible. like he MIGHT do it if they annoy him enough about it but he's gonna be a bitch the entire time.

49. Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

Never in a million years, unless the world depended on it. even then?? Man barely touched anything other than white bread for 10 years.

50. What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

I personally condone everything Miles has ever done and will ever do. He is a perfect moral pillar and always acts rationally forever.

(Miles may be Just Like Me FR but man he does forget about the rammies bro. Fantasy is a fun vehicle for you to fuck around and find out without consquences - greatest hits include stealing a dragon egg, telling a celestial creature to eat a guy, walking up to an angry dragon without armour on, selling a guy to a dragon, flirting with cerulean, playing uno with a horse. list goes on)

51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?

"Darling" in every conceivable way. I don't think he has any other catchphrases, aside from, "have you considered joining a union"

52. Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

When i made him miles was always supposed to be the cool calm collected emotionless aloof guy but man did that not happen at all. I will say he does put on a brave face for stressful situations but ANY slight on him absolutely destroys any mind for reputation or coolness. Just ask him about blueberries.

53. Who would / do they believe without question?

Weirdly I would think he would believe Palar (or other villains) without any hesitation, especially in cases where he's particularly heinous and asshole-ish. Any confirmation that he is as sick and twisted as Miles thinks he is and he's bought in 3000%. Ironically I'm a very trusting person but Miles is a Doubter(tm)

54. What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

I had to look up what fawn meant in this context and whoo boy is miles a fawner. The more he ingratiates himself the more he's rubbing his hands together like meheheh they are right where i want them. And then he can go back to his WIFE and complain about them. He's done this at least four times in game so far.

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If i dare split this up into the stages of his life I think the answer would probably be the same.

As a squire/knight in training he hated anything to do with glory or praise. Mostly because it would just get him bullied but he considered that shit pompous and cringe.

As a playboy/sex worker he disliked the sex part itself. Catering to people and seducing them was most of what he enjoyed, either as a ego-stoking measure or simply to pick up customers.

Now i think he rather hates being the hero. Man helps people as a means to an end (getting through the day) but boy it's a hassle. Can't people save themselves every once in a while. Why does he have to do it all the time?

56. If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

It's happened several times in game now where Miles has some sort of horrible world-shattering fear that he's been confronted with and every time he has an overwhelming need to be comforted by the woman who raised him. Not to say his beloved wife can't, but mummy issues are something else.

57. What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

Boring answer? Digestion. Can't feed himself, can't cook, can barely eat, don't even get me started on his movements. Dry as a desert down there. I don't have much of a fun answer I guess he sucks at being nice to people.

58. How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

I don't remember if Miles has any hobbies at all that aren't just. Reading cool stories about heroes. He's a sucker for an unlikely hero. Other hobbies include childcare and being a feminist.

[cph-dreaming]

# Jonathan’s life (Jonathan meets Philip)

“Maybe my nearly sixteen-year-old me would have thought more about being gay had he paid more attention to how he reacted to the many derogative synonyms to the word. I know they say that things have changed for the better over the last ten years but someone must have forgotten to hand out that memo to the boys at my school. Words like ‘stupid’ or ‘idiot’ or ‘moron’ were rarely a part of their vocabulary. Instead it was ‘wanker’ (ok, bad example, love that word), ‘homo’ (don’t go there), ‘cocksucker’ (definitely don’t go there), and ‘faggot’ (I’m gonna kill you). Until this day I don’t know why I reacted so strongly to those words but they were hateful, despicable, they were only there to hurt. And I was hurt when I was on the receiving end because I danced classical ballet, something I loved more than anything else, because ballet apparently is totally gay. At least the first ‘faggot’ thrown my way became the last.

I’ve never been scared of a fight. Sometimes I think I should have been when I looked at my face afterwards, but hey. Since I was eight my uncle has spared with me and trained me to hold my own and when I got older, he taught me more and more of the dirty little tricks that’ll give you the upper hand and win a fight, even when you’re the smaller and weaker part.

So, ‘faggot’ turned into a broken nose and a dislocated shoulder. And it wasn’t mine. Of course, I got into trouble. Of course, I got suspended. And of course, my mom didn’t talk to me for a week because she was so disappointed in me. Nothing made me feel sorry for the asshole who used the slur, though. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t seek out fights and I don’t enjoy them. But from early on I’ve understood that the choices we make have consequences and if someone choses to call me a ‘faggot’ I’ll make them pay, or at least try to.

After that day people stopped calling me names to my face because of my ‘gay’ dancing. They might have done so behind my back but that has never bothered me. Only small insignificant people talk about you behind your back and they’re not worth listening to. And I had shown everyone that I’m not a victim.

The best thing that happened that day, though, was that I met my best friend. Pip had witnessed the whole thing, not only the fight but he had also heard the homophobic slur used against me. (He was actually the reason I only got suspended and didn’t get into any more trouble with the school’s strict no violence policy because he went to the principal and witnessed on my behalf). When the fight was over and the asshole lay whimpering and crying on the ground, Pip stood behind me laughing and then he started to clap his hands. I was still high on adrenalin and didn’t realize what was happening and when Pip patted my shoulder, saying “Way to go, PrettyFace!” I was ready to smack him one as well. But when I turned around, I was met with largest smile, a smile I have loved ever since, and I couldn’t help smiling back at him. I had noticed Pip in the in the hallways before, he had transferred from another school a few months before the fight, but you know, only in that ‘there’s a new face, ok, registered’ kind of way and I had never talked to him. So I was rather taken back when he put his hands on my shoulder and proclaimed, “You’re a hero, thank you!” Then he took me by the hand and led me to the nearest bathroom where he helped me clean myself up. There was something strangely intimate about it when he held my hand under the running water and gently washed the blood of my knuckles. I was standing there, not really knowing what to do or say. I only stared at him in the mirror. Pip was still smiling. Eventually he found my eyes, laughed again and said, “All good, PrettyFace, dry your hands, we’re done.” Then he turned around and left the bathroom with a “See you later!” before the door closed behind him.

I’ve been loved. My father, my mother, my sis and my uncle. Yes, I have been loved. But that day in the bathroom was the first time I experienced the pure and simple act of compassion. From this strange and smiling boy. So when Pip waited at the gates after school and said “There you are, let’s grab a coffee” I wasn’t really surprised. I just nodded and followed him. I wasn’t a coffee guy at that time but I wasn’t there for the coffee, I went with him because I wanted to know more about this boy. But when we arrived at the coffee shop which wasn’t far away from our school I nearly forgot all about him. I was mesmerized. How had I not been to this place before? It wasn’t a combined bookstore and café but there were bookshelves everywhere, worn-out couches and arm chairs, and that indescribable feeling of dust from years gone by. It was a place I would end up visiting many times the next years.

We went to the counter and ordered our coffee. Pip went for a cortado and I asked for a large latte with as much milk as possible and we found two arm chairs by one of the windows. I looked fascinated around the place.

“You know you can take any book you want with you? As long as you bring another book to replace it with”, he told me.

“How is that possible? Don’t people just steal the books?” I asked.

“Some might. But most people here respect that books have to be treated with curtesy and reverence and the only way to do that here is to respect the system.” Then he smiled, “Besides, who wants to steal tattered Harry Potter books when everyone’s already got them at home.” I laughed.

“By the way, I know that you’re Jonathan but I don’t think you know my name.” I shook my head feeling a bit embarrassed that I didn’t when he knew mine. “I’m Philip”, and he reached out his hand. It took me a few seconds before I realized that he wanted me to shake it.

“So, you read?” I asked, trying not to show that he made me a little nervous.

“I do”, he simply said. The he looked at me in a surveying manner. “I can see that you do too.”

Of course, everyone in my family knew that I liked to read. Words are in my blood. The first eight years of my life my father read to me every evening before I went to bed. Ever since I have read almost any book I could get my hands on but it wasn’t something I shared with anyone. At school my grades were a testament to the fact that I could read but mostly my classmates thought it was down to the fact that my mother was this hotshot journalist, not my affinity for stories and knowledge. I don’t think that anybody knew that I actually loved reading more than anything. Except dancing.

“As a reader you will understand why today brought me so much joy”, Pip said.

I was blank. Reading and fighting didn’t really go hand in hand in my book, not unless you read about fights, that is. It must have been the confused look on my face that made Pip laugh again.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at your bruised knuckles”, he smiled. “For a moment, try to see what happened today through my eyes. I have only seen you around the school from afar after I transferred but I have eyes and I’ve seen enough to find out your name. Here’s this young man, not only tall and handsome, but very, very pretty, who moves delicately as a dancer, who is a dancer, and when some douchebag has the audacity to call him that despicable name, instead of gracefully ignoring it, he transforms into a roaring Aragorn and cuts down the vile orc who thought he was home free by picking on someone he felt was inferior to him.”

Pip paused before he shouted, making everyone in the room turn their heads, “The irony, the comedy, the fairytale!”

“Glad I could entertain you”, I said. I didn’t really know what else to say. I wasn’t sure how I felt being reduced to some character in Pip’s story, even if I was the hero. Today wasn’t a story I was especially proud of writing.

“Hey now, don’t give me that face.” Pip looked at me again as if I was this new specimen he had to study. “I honestly think you’re fucking cool! From the outside you’re the prototype of a victim, well, apart from your height and your muscles, but a dancer with a captivatingly pretty face. You know what I mean. And then you show those fucking dickheads that they can forget all about messing with you ever again. And you know what? That brings a lot of hope to the rest of us schoolyard prey.”

The sincerity in Pip’s voice made me blush. It wasn’t only the words but also the pain imbedded in them.

“That’s some mighty praise there, Philip.” I smiled at him despite my burning cheeks.

“You deserve it, Jonathan.” He emptied his coffee before he smiled back at me. “Interesting, isn’t it, how a homophobic slur can lead to friendship.”

Normally I would have said something like ‘wow, body, stop right there, we’re not friends’ or ‘easy now, one day at a time’. But I didn’t. In fact I didn’t say anything at all. There was no need. Pip had said it all. Sometimes a faggot becomes a friend.”

[likeagoddamnadult]

There's a whole lot here to unpack, especially when it sounds like something shitty/abusive may have happened with OP's ex. I can't address that, because all I've got to go on is what OP has to say. But about the actual question being asked, whether telling your friends you love them makes you The Asshole... I have Thoughts.

My thoughts come from having been on both sides of the unintentional friendship pressure dynamic, and fucking it up spectacularly more than once.

We're often told to tell people how we feel, and that sharing ourselves with others is how we make good friendships and romantic relationships happen. Intimacy is good! But there's a difference between sharing (I feel this way and I'm letting you know) and dumping (I feel this way and I'm going to tell you in excruciating detail and now there's the implication that you're supposed to do something with this). For instance, telling our friends we love them and such becomes manipulative and controlling when we're giving them the impression, correctly or not, that they're our entire support system. Because then, even if we've asked for others to be honest, they can feel like anything negative they say can wreck us completely, so they downplay things in their own minds as not a big deal. And resentment builds behind the scenes, until something finally pushes them too far, and them, bam, everything we've ever done wrong is proof that we're terrible and must be shunned.

And it sucks to think everything is fine, and then suddenly it isn't, and apparently never was, and wow, these are terrible people who hated us all the time and were lying... When no, that's not it at all. They were trying to be kind, and it backfired.

I had a friend who I'd known for years. We went through some traumatic shit together, and so we ended up leaning on each other for emotional support and not really setting any boundaries. We, in fact, took pride in our utter lack of boundaries as a sign of how close we were. Only after several years, things started feeling unbalanced. Every time I got excited about new friends or partners, my friend would spiral into depression because they just knew they were going to lose me, or they just knew somehow the new person was bad news and I needed to cut them out of my life... and I would panic and try to reassure them that no, no, I would never leave them, etc.

I ended that friendship a few years ago, because things were dysfunctional as fuck, and I was unintentionally pushing them into things they didn't enjoy, but were too eager to please me to push back against, and at the same time I was too afraid of them having a mental health crisis be upfront and say, "Hey, when you do this thing, I feel really uncomfortable," or, "Please stop bringing up this thing that triggers me." (I was also triggering them right back on some issues. They were not and ARE not the asshole for how our friendship turned out -- it was fucked from all directions and neither of us was coming at it from a healthy place.)

I'd try to back away and ask for some space for myself, but they unerringly seemed to pick times when I was trying to gather the courage to be like, "Hey, I need a break to calm my tits and let go of some of this growing resentment which is my own damn fault," to say something like, "So I was doing an exercise in therapy in which I had to draw circles around myself and put people in them based on how much I trusted and relied on them, and in the closest circle, it was just you and my [least abusive relative who enables my more abusive relatives]," and I would instantly be overwhelmed with guilt and grit my teeth and continue to have increasingly unfun interactions, because it was just me and the person who kept trying to play happy families with them and their abuser, and at least I wasn't actively making their life worse, right?

...Right?

Never mind that I was continuing to feed into patterns that were hurting me, and were therefore unsustainable, without giving any indication there was a problem. Because that's different. Somehow.

And eventually I had to be like, "Okay, I need out of this friendship. You are not a bad person, but my mental health is suffering, and I need to not be doing this." And I felt like a terrible person, and they kept hounding me for more details and demanded to know what they'd done wrong. And it was very hard not to dump that big list of everything they'd ever done that upset me on them, but I had to, because there was so much buried resentment there that it would've caused me to go scorched earth on them, when the actual things themselves were, at most, kinda shitty, and not signs they were irredeemably problematic and evil. That shit is still simmering in my brain, years later and letting go of it is an ongoing effort. It took every ounce of restraint I had to keep the messaging to, "I feel bad, but this was not healthy, and I genuinely like you and wish you the best, just not with me."

I don't think they were trying to manipulate me. They were lonely and needed someone to cling to, and I'd been in that exact same position, and I'd clung right back to them in specific more than once. But the end result was that I was terrified that if I asked for what I needed to be happy in our friendship, they would literally kill themself.

When they informed me that they'd learned that just because I had been their best friend, it didn't mean I was their only friend, and they had so many people who agreed with them that I was terrible and unfair and owed them an explanation... Well, I'm pretty sure they meant for it to hurt me, but what I felt was overwhelming relief. They had support. They'd be okay. And I could take my life back.

And this is why even innocently sharing gratitude and affection for your friends can be seen as manipulative, when it's coupled with the idea of being someone's primary means of emotional support. I did not know this, and I am far from neurotypical, and it took it happening to me for me to understand... and that's why I'm explaining this the way I am, in case someone else out there is as clueless about this as I was for the first 35+ years of my life.

The messages other people pick up from us when we do this stuff, regardless of what we intend, are contradictory and confusing. "Please tell me if I do something wrong, or I will be very hurt, BUT since you're my primary emotional support if you hurt me BY telling me I did something wrong, I'll have no one else to turn to, and WHO KNOWS what might happen then."

It's an incredibly shitty position to be in, and it feels like there's no safe course of action.

So by all means (and I'm not directing this specifically at OP, who I don't know -- some of this is me yelling at my past self) tell your friends you love them, and you're grateful for their support, but watch how you say it. Pay attention to how often they say similar things to you, or to each other. Are you always the one initiating the affectionate remarks? Are you pushing for more closeness, more time with them, etc, when they seem happy with how things currently are? Are you making big emotional gestures and they're responding with some variant of, "Yeah, we think you're great!" and nothing more than that? You may be putting pressure on them without intending to.

Tell people you love them if you do in fact love them. Tell them you'd love to spend more time with them. Never tell them anything that implies the task of propping up your mental health is all on them. And if they seem less than immediately and overwhelmingly enthusiastic about more time or meeting IRL or being closer in any other way, be as chill as you possibly can about it, and back off. Find an interest that they're not part of. Try to have neutral-to-positive social interactions with people who aren't them. Don't worry about making a completely new group of friends, and don't pull away from that person or group entirely, but just a few positive interactions outside the group can help your brain come to terms that you do not, in fact, need these specific people to have good things in your life. And they'll pick up on that, and that takes the pressure off them, which will make it more likely (not guaranteed! but more likely!) that you'll have genuinely good and unforced interactions with them that can lead to you being closer as a group.

tl;dr - Sharing good. Dumping bad. Emotional intimacy is a balance people find over time, not a thing you can speedrun by taking a great big FEELINGSDUMP on someone. Don't make one person or one group the center of your mental stability, because it ends badly for everyone.

AITA for telling my friends i love them?

okay, hear me out before writing this off as fake or “trying to make the other party look bad”. i promise this is a genuine problem i need to have figured out.

i (20) am autistic so i have a hard time telling when i do something wrong, and it’s difficult for me to make friends. however, i was part of an online friend group for ~3-4 years. i was the oldest and the others (17-19) all knew each other irl, so it felt a little awkward (to me) for me to be there, but i considered them my closest friends and my only safe space to be myself.

in the time we were friends, i made some mistakes, some of which i’d rather not get into for personal reasons. but recently the group decided they didn’t want me there anymore, so i was kicked from the discord server and they all blocked me. i was sent a long message about why, and that’s where my confusion starts.

in the message, they brought up some things that didn’t make sense to me as a “bad” thing.

1. they said i’d talked to them about drugs and alcohol “while [they] were still minors”, which is true, but misleading when it’s just said like that. what i actually did was infodump about safe use, because it happened to be one of my fixations at the time, and sometimes mention being high in my channel, but nothing more than that. as for them being minors, some were 17 and some were 18, so it’s really not that different to having DARE come and talk to you about drugs, at least in my eyes. i never encouraged them to use, i never told them to use, and i never gave them resources to use. i only talked about safe use.

2. this is where my title comes in. they told me i was guilttripping and manipulating them by talking about them being my “longest friends” and telling them i loved them. point blank, nothing more to it, that’s what they said. along with that was an added “we know that’s not how you meant it but the effect was there”. this is what i don’t understand and why i need to know if i’m actually a bad person for this or not. yes, i’d talk about them being my longest friends, because i was grateful they had stuck around so long. i’d tell them i loved them just off the bat, whenever i wanted to tell them. it was never about guilttripping or manipulating them, it was always about wanting to show that i appreciated them.

3. this one is a hard one i think. they said that i’d “never disproven [my] ex’s accusations”. i don’t really want to get into what happened which my ex since i know i made mistakes in that relationship, but what’s important to note here is that i had sent my ex’s accusations to one member of the group who’d then sent me a text telling me that they believed i was different now.

this is the text copy-pasted:

“it's definitely a rough situation. but since i know *y'all*, i definitely believe your side. not to mention, you acknowledged your mistakes and the things you did. and i think for all the statements they made about "they knew we had [this traumal", they should've had proof of y'all discussing that. like i can say my girlfriend knows i have body image issues, but i could totally be pulling that out of my ass, you can't just take my word for it. they can't just say things without proof, especially if the things they say could *ruin* y'all's life.”

but in the message as to why i was no longer in the group, they said that actually they didn’t believe me at all, which completely contradicts that text.

and yeah, that’s my explanation of the situation. i genuinely don’t know if i’m the asshole or not, and i’ve been beating myself up about it. this whole situation has made my trust in friends go down, especially since i trusted that group with everything about me. any advice is welcome too.

thank you for listening. have a great day. :)

What are these acronyms?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 15

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

You’re silent as you take out the pre-cut ingredients for an omelet and set to the task, paying passive attention to the instructions housed in the leather folder. You know how to make a goddamn omelet. It’s one of the few things you know for sure.

You thought you knew your husband, thought you knew how life would go, thought you knew at least one person you could count on. You were wrong. Like everything else, it’s turned out horribly wrong. Now here you are, making breakfast for some perverted creep who would care more if the eggs were burnt than about you.

You huff as you put a pan flat and try to light the burner. You flick the button over and over, growing frustrated and hitting the stove with your fist. You growl and hang your head. You’re not going to cry.

“Take it easy, doll face, or I’ll have to take that out of your allowance,” Lloyd teases.

You ignore him and try again. It lights. You focus on the task, straightforward, simple, safe. You go back to the fridge and count out three eggs. You place them on the counter as Lloyd comes up to meet you.

“No one likes waking up to that,” he says.

“What do you care?” You snarl as you search the cupboards and pull out a bowl.

“Well, you seem kind of upset.”

“Isn’t that what you enjoy?”

He doesn’t reply as he taps his fingers on the counter, looming, watching you as you do your best to tune him out. He bends to lean his elbow on the marble and squints up at you.

“Lot of gals wouldn’t take it so well. You’re holding it in and it’s not gonna be pretty–”

“Enough,” you snap as you find the whisk and slam the drawer, “and why the hell don’t you put some clothes on?”

He stands straight and shrugs, giving a playful smirk, “thought you might need something to distract you, I don’t know.”

“Why the hell are you asking me all the questions. You must be loving this. You saw me humiliated again. You were right, all along. I’m not good enough for that asshole– and where the fuck did you get a gun?”

“Talk about a lot of questions, sweet cheeks,” he tuts, “you’re right, let’s not get too deep.”

You sigh and add a touch of milk to the eggs and beat them to a smooth yellow. You feel him, lingering. It’s so fucking annoying. You need him to go away. You peek over as he leans on the counter, his focus still on you. You let the whisk rest on the edge of the bowl.

“Right, you need to leave me alone,” you grab him by the dick and trap him against the counter, pumping him as he gasps.

“Woah, slow down, baby, what–”

“Shut up,” you reach down to cup underneath and give a gentle squeeze, kneading him until he groans. He hardens against your impatient grasp.

“Wait, you don’t just–”

“Daddy, be real pretty and quiet for me,” you mock him as you roll your palm over his tip and make him twitch, “that’s it, let me hear it.”

He bites his lip, eyes round with shock, helpless as you stroke him, standing close as heavy breaths puff from his nose. He looks down and his lashes flutter as he braces the counter, dumbfounded by your sudden assault. You’re not thinking, just doing, anything to get some space from the idiot.

He latches onto your arm, a pathetic attempt to stop you, and you speed up. The friction is hot and dry. You bring your hand to your mouth and lick it, quickly resuming your motion as he pushes his head back and grunts. You speed up until you see the muscles in his neck and chest clench and he grits his teeth.

“That’s it, cum,” you snarl and he lets out a croak, spilling on command as he shudders and his cum drips beneath your fingers and slicken his length. You keep on until he’s trembling and you let him go without pretense.

You turn to the sink to rinse your hand with warm water and dry off with a dish cloth. You toss it at him and elbow his side as you dump the sliced green onion into the egg. 

“Go on, I’ll bring you your breakfast,” you dismiss him with a curl of your lip.

“Wha…” his voice trails off.

“You got what you want,” you continue to pour in fixings, “and I’m busy.”

He doesn’t move right away. When he manages to stand on his own strength, he wipes himself with the dish cloth, strings of his release up his stomach as he exhales heavily. He doesn’t say a word as he retreats and you scowl at your task. Thank fucking god, if he stayed another second, you might have strangled him by the neck instead.

💎

You maintain a wordless trance as you go about the morning. You serve Lloyd at the table and go to tidy the kitchen. You return when he’s finished and get him a second coffee at his request. That’s easy. Taking his orders. It gives you thoughts that aren’t your own.

When you find the table empty, you’re relieved. You continue down your daily checklist, wiping the table and pushing in his chair. You vacuum the elaborate rug in what he refers to pretentiously as the parlour. You replace his glass from the night before with the rest and carry on to the next room.

It’s after noon, you’re tired, hungry, and just as Colin deemed, miserable. You look up, startled at the sudden silent presence. Lloyd is all in black, a jacket zipped to his chin as he has a black bag hooked over his shoulder. You lower the duster and meet his gaze.

“I got a job, you got yours. I’ll be back,” he says.

“Okay.”

“Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He raises a finger, his hands gloved in leather. He points at you, “when I get back, I want that attitude gone. You get one gimme. I won’t put up with that shit a second time.”

You consider him, your jaw steel as you bite down. You nod, “yes, daddy.”

He drops his hand, “good girl.” He turns but stops halfway, “and to offer what little comfort I’m willing to, this place is secured by the square inch. That fucker won’t be back.”

“I can handle him.”

“Yeah, well I’m telling you, you won’t have to.”

You swallow and accept it. It’s not exactly a glowing declaration of affection, but what it is is as close as he’ll ever come to genuine humanity. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m off,” he raps his knuckles on the door frame and swiftly strides away. 

You listen to his footsteps, followed quickly by the front door. You wait until you’re certain he’s gone. You go out to the entryway and peer around. You tiptoe to the side table and slide open the drawer. It’s empty.

You sit on the stairs and set the duster down, rubbing the wrinkle in your forehead as you think. That’s not a good idea as everything hits you at once. Colin and his true feelings, Lloyd and his covert career. Questions you don’t want the answers to; how long had Colin been repulsed by you? Why the fuck did Lloyd have a gun? And what were you doing here?

You drop your head into your hands and suck in a breath. When you let it go, it all comes out. The tears, the grief, the angers, the fear, every emotion drains from you until you're crumpled on the floor. Is this what rock bottom feels like?