#rapists should be hanged to death

[ilynpilled]

ive been thinking about this a bit and i feel like i have some very different feelings towards certain things and strongly disagree with the implications present in the ways i see them discussed. i do not like to simplify these themes to “vengeance/punishment bad wahh”, because it does not at all feel complete enough to convey my true feelings, or the themes of the text itself for that matter imo, but like… ofc i personally cant read things like cersei’s walk of shame, where she is punished, humiliated, and dehumanized through the one thing she was unfairly condemned for her entire life— jaime’s brutal maiming and torture where he is humiliated, fed things like horse piss which he forces down because he is so thirsty before vomiting it back up, gets repeatedly beaten unconscious, and is nearly driven to passive suicide— theon’s excessive physical and mental torment that would take too long to list that breaks him entirely— and even a man as deeply evil as vargo hoat (who is not at all three dimensional) having his hands and feet and arms and legs cut off, be cannibalized, and even be forced to eat parts of himself, causing the pov character that swore to enact brutal vengeance on him to feel ill and repulsed once he finds out— and experience much, if any, catharsis, personal feelings about these characters aside. asoiaf is a series where the author pretty often deliberately places us inside the heads of bad people that have done terrible things, who some readers may feel a certain hatred for, as they are put through torment. not to make the reader feel good and satisfied about it, but to present it as something that should not really be a thing that we revel in, and encourage us to be critical about what is even gained through what they are going through. even a morally dark antagonist without a pov like joffrey and his death was meant to have elements of tragedy. during, tyrion notes that he is a young boy with fear in his eyes that he had never seen in the eyes of his father. whether you feel a certain way about it (and i am not arguing that you are morally flawed for not sympathizing with a fictional character, this isn’t real life, i am just discussing themes that i am identifying), the goal was not really to provide us with a feel-good “justice at last!” emotion through the brutally violent death of a 13 year old boy. it makes me genuinely wonder how some ppl come away with the idea that this series is intended to be a celebration and glorification of punitive justice. i am not saying justice in general is not a huge theme, and some catharsis, especially for victims, over the death/defeat of their abusers & tormenters is present in the text as well, understandably so, because it can mean safety. take pia smiling through broken teeth when jaime has her rapist executed and presents his head to her while setting a precedent with gregor’s men. some people need to die, and deserve it, but what does that look like? who decides it? why? by contrast, the instance of jaime actually feeling good when he hangs a bunch of random outlaws reads as something more tied to his current relationship to the self and certain selfish desires at this point in his story than real justice, and it is further elaborated upon and taken apart in the book. anyway, all these questions are present and the answers are not near as simple as i often see them made out to be.

it doesn’t feel like to me that most things that can be interpreted as enactments of punitive justice or moments of karma are these epic events that should just make the reader blindly cheer and applaud, or even feel good about. there is a reason that some things go awry (like with oberyn), and it isn’t cynicism. there is nuance, and not in a way where victims are condemned for fighting back, or a pacifist ideology is idealized. there just really isn’t a glorification of brutal punishment, ‘eye for an eye’ vengeance, and the needless causing of suffering. same with a blind upholding of duty and law based around flawed feudalistic constructs. and all these things should not even be conflated. not to mention that punitive justice exists also in a way where it is connected to institutions. take the faith and organized religion for example. the whole process is interrogated: what is sin? what sins are being punished? how? why? and what are the actual effects? be it jaime’s and brienne’s conversations/interactions with a bunch of different tertiary characters in affc, or cersei’s punishment in adwd. at the end of the day, she is punished for her body, for being a woman. she does not suffer “consequences” for her actual wrongs and the suffering she causes. she doesn’t really learn anything, and it will all just make her spiral more. the whole concept of punitive justice gets focused on especially with theon’s entire identity being withered away through torture. he experiences so much torment that there comes a point where he is robbed of his mind and agency. what does the “criminal” learn? how can a person change in these circumstances? what is the point, and why should we feel good about this? he is not even really “punished” for his crimes, and certainly not by people with any moral high ground over him, he is just being brutalized. same is the case with jaime in asos: it is a bad person being brutalized by men even more vile than he is, and they are not doing it because they want to deliver any justice to his victims. also, though the maiming does kickstart crisis with him specifically, it is not the determining factor when it comes to his reformation. this story is not actually saying that people can be, and should be, tortured into becoming better people, and if they can’t the solution is to just axe them. there is nuance, sure, mercy is not something everyone is entitled to in all circumstances. sometimes “mercy” towards certain evil people will lead to the enablement of the suffering of others, even entire populations. there are certainly circumstances where compromise isn’t an option. but, again, i dont think george is ever holding back on actually interrogating the moral quandaries when it comes to identifying cycles and ending them, and he is for sure not treating every single aspect of these conflicts as black and white. even tyrion murdering his father, who purposefully does have a very ironic and humiliating death scene, which is important thematically, doesn’t end in easy and feel-good catharsis, especially for tyrion, which doesn’t equal “oh, tywin should be forgiven and spared”.

all of this is also why i do not really see how events like the fall of house lannister (first of all, we know it is gonna include the likely very brutal deaths of two innocent small children), red wedding 2.0, valonqar etc would be these grand and glorious moments of justice and pay-off, treated as just the good guys finally getting an epic W. they will very likely be filled with tragedy, so i am genuinely curious about where these expectations for this kind of catharsis come from

[catt-leya]

Nighttime || Rick Grimes 18+

Sooo this might be the sweetest fic I've ever written. I tried to make up for the loving words you wrote to me and I hope it's like you imagined it to be 💗 and again: thank you so much 💗💗💗

Original request here

About the fic: It's mainly fluff but it wouldn't be me if I wasn't able to at least mention a bit of smutty action 👉🏼👈🏼💗

Trigger: none (?) but a bit pregnancy at the end

Hospital

Shivering, you look around the hospital you've fled to and take a deep breath as you hear the pure silence. If there were living dead people walking around here, you should have heard them by now. 

In fact, this hospital may be the last place in this city that hasn't been completely overrun and razed.

Carefully you walk through the long and dark corridor, avoiding the cables hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps you could find a reasonably safe space here to at least gather yourself and then move on to another city.

Maybe you could also find some supplies and get yourself....

Before you can finish the thought, you hear soft footsteps.

Immediately you stop, rooted to the spot, and try to figure out where the footsteps are coming from.

It is so oppressively quiet that you hear every step as if the source were only 2 meters away from you.

Your hands get sweaty and you take a silent step to the side to lean your back against the wall, listening strained for the sound that must be coming from around the corner to your left.

You force yourself to stay calm and figure out what it is first, firmly believing that if push came to shove, you could take on a walking corpse.

The air sticks in your lungs as the light flickers and the source of the footsteps becomes visible. 

A man dressed only in boxers and a hospital gown stops in front of the door facing him, staring at the inscription that you can't read from your position.

He doesn't look like he likes to eat people for snacks, but you've learned the hard way that that doesn't have to mean anything, so you still stay as quiet as you can and watch him slowly reach out for the door, from which a muffled groan can be heard.

Dead or not, don't let this guy open the door.

If need be, you can take him on, but certainly not the ones he'd most likely let through the door, so you take a big step toward him and yell, "No, don't."

He flinches violently and jerks his head around to look at you as if you were the undead.

Still keeping enough distance from him, you say, "Keep the door closed" hoping he's alive and understands what you've just said.

To your relief, he still looks like he's about to pick up his feet and run, but he replies, "What's behind there?"

The fact that he can speak is proof enough for now that he's normal, and you relax a bit.

Only now do you really look at him and discover a bandage wrapped around his waist, which you point to, "You're in the hospital for that, aren't you?"

Confused, he looks down at himself, as if he's forgotten that he doesn't look like he's just been here for a short visit, and then nods, "I got shot."

You take another cautious step toward him, "You have no idea what's going on. Can it be?"

Again he looks at you helplessly and confused beyond measure, "This must be a dream. A coma dream. I'm not awake at all."

Dryly you laugh out, "It would be nice. But no, you're wide awake and probably just slept through how it all started, Sleeping Beauty."

You feel tremendously sorry for the panic in his beautiful blue eyes, but the sooner he understands what's going on, the sooner you might have a helping hand, too. It goes against the grain for you to admit this, but the fact is that it might not be such a bad thing to have a man by your side who's a few heads taller than you.

Now that it's a matter of life and death, you can't afford to be picky, but you still ask again about his bullet wound, "Where did you get that?"

You hope he's not a gangster or a rapist. True, he doesn't look like it, but as you said before, you shouldn't just trust appearances.

His gaze slides over your body and he says softly, "I'm a Sheriff and I got caught in a shooting."

You exhale heavily and actually give him the benefit of the doubt, "Would you like to come with me? I can explain what happened while you were in a coma, Sheriff."

Farm

Smiling, you look to Dale sitting high atop his RV, "I can help you."

The old man loves being able to watch over everyone from above and you know that for a fact, but you love it at least as much as he does. That's why you don't even wait for him to answer and climb so far up to look over the edge at him.

He probably didn't even hear you and looks spellbound through his binoculars. With a furrowed brow you follow the direction he is looking and can see two people without recognizing who it is.

You clear your throat loudly and Dale flinches in surprise.

When he looks at you, you raise an eyebrow and grin, "I don't know exactly what you're looking at, Dale, but I doubt very much that it's a possible threat to our group."

Quietly, he murmurs, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

Confused, you brace yourself on the roof and sit cross-legged next to him, "What are you talking about?"

"See for yourself," sighing, he hands you the binoculars and you reluctantly take them to see what he's getting at.

It takes you a small moment before you find the two people he's been watching, and you bite your lower lip as you recognize Rick's curls and his back.

By the way he's standing, he's partially shielding the person he's talking to, but even from that, you know full well it's his wife Lori.

Sighing, you hand Dale his binoculars and shrug, "They're just talking. That doesn't have to mean there's trouble in paradise."

The old man next to you snorts in disbelief, "Girl, you haven't fallen on your head. Nothing at all is going well between those two anymore, and it's tearing our group apart piece by piece."

You know he's not wrong, but because Rick is your best friend, you keep your mouth shut.

But Dale really gets into it, "You can't tell me you don't see the way Shane looks at Lori. At some point, it's going to pop, and it's going to end badly."

You grit your teeth.

Of course you see it, and you have a guess or two about what happened when Lori thought Rick died in the hospital, but you don't know anything for sure, and you'd think it unfair to saddle Rick with more guesses and possibilities when he already has his hands full.

So you say unnaturally calmly, "Dale, you have no idea what they're talking about, and even if it's not a good conversation, Rick will make sure it doesn't turn into a big problem for the group."

Briefly, something flashes in your old friend's eyes and he sighs softly, "I know, kiddo. Rick is a good man. It's not for me to judge, but he deserves someone better."

Your eyes dart to the two figures in the distance, but they're gone and you shrug, "Possibly."

Silently you look at each other and you cry out softly when you hear Rick's voice from downstairs, "Darling? Are you upstairs?"

Dale grins broadly at you and murmurs, "Lori doesn't like it when he calls you that."

Unwittingly, your cheeks grow warm and you slap his upper arm, "Shut up."

Hectically, you scoot to the edge of the RV and look down at Rick: "Yep, what's up?"

The way he looks up at you makes your heart sink to the floor, and then when he also asks in a raspy voice, "Can I talk to you?" Wouldn't you know a situation where you wouldn't drop everything to be there for him.

You nod at him and smile at Dale: "I'll be back later."

But he shakes his head, "I'm not counting on it, kiddo."

You can't suppress the rolling of your eyes, and instead of answering, you make your way downstairs to Rick.

When you reach the last two rungs of the ladder, Rick grabs you by the waist and lifts you down from the RV.

Instead of letting go of you right away, he pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss to your cheek, which makes you giggle softly and you lightly slap his hands to get him to let go of you, which he reluctantly does.

Holding you in his arms has always felt right to him, and he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

He just has to touch you as soon as you come near him. Whether it's an arm wrapped around your shoulder or even just a little touch on your lower back.

God, it's enough for him to pull a leaf out of your hair like this while you look at him with your beautiful eyes.

Gently, you stroke his chest with the flat of your hand, smoothing down his shirt, "What do you want to talk to me about, Sheriff?"

As you do, your eyes slide from his face to your hand and you notice how dirty his shirt has already become, "Rick? You're going out with Shane tomorrow aren't you? If you'd like you can give me your shirt then and I'll wash it for you...That is, of course, if Lori hasn't already offered."

You look back up at him and he just stares at you.

The RV is close behind your back and Rick is standing very close to you as he usually does, which adds a little too much tension to the situation and you take a step toward him to push past him on the left and maintain decorum.

For a brief and naive second, Rick thinks of something he shouldn't be thinking about and then in turn takes a step to the side as well before clearing his throat so as not to sound as hoarse as he probably would, "You want to wash my shirt?"

He sounds so surprised you chuckle, "You say that like it's something amazing. We're friends Rick. Of course I'll wash your shirt if you want. You're incredibly busy, so it's the least I can do, and I can help you out with it."

You grin at him, "And maybe I'm a little selfish too, because you're prettier to look at when you're wearing clean clothes."

His heart warms and he hasn't felt this way in a long time...so wanted and appreciated for all he has given up for the group.

And all because you offered to wash his stupid shirt.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for your hand, "Can we go to your tent, darling?"

Concerned, your grin falls from your face and you bite your lower lip, "Of course. Come."

Gently, you pull him behind you to your tent, which is set up near the others.

You realize this must be about the conversation Rick had with Lori, and Rick's grip on your hand is so incredibly tight that you can feel how agitated he is, and maybe a little afraid he's going to crush your fingers.

Even though you can barely move your fingers, you don't say a word about it and open the tent.

That's the moment Rick lets go of your hand and you crawl inside in front of him.

He doesn't really want to, but as soon as you're on all fours, his gaze slides to your butt and he squints his eyes hard, trying to keep it together.

Partly because he's still married, no matter what Lori has done, and partly because he doesn't want to jeopardize the friendship you have because of some knee-jerk reaction.

He adores you far too much for that.

So he forces himself to think clearly again and crawls behind you into the inside of the little tent.

Because Rick is so much bigger than you, he takes up an incredible amount of space in the cramped room, but you don't mind.

It's nice to have him close to you and you reach for his hands as if it were a matter of course, "So, what's up, Sheriff?"

His eyes are fixed on your hands as he mutters, "Lori slept with Shane when I was in the hospital where we met. She thought I was dead. She...I..." 

You squeeze his hands, "Shhhh, it's okay. Take your time."

He sighs softly and you gently tug on his hands, making him look up questioningly.

Slowly you lean back and as you lie flat on your back, you pull him down to you.

At first he hesitates, but when he looks into your loving eyes, he can't help himself and lets himself sink onto you.

Because the tent is so small, he doesn't try to crush you too, but you release a hand from his and press his head firmly but firmly to your chest.

Rick closes his eyes as his cheek comes to rest in the hollow between your breasts, expecting you to push him higher or a tad lower, but you don't seem to mind him lying on your breasts and as he hears your regular heartbeat, he relaxes more and more until he's able to get out coherent sentences again without bursting into tears, "You know what the real problem is, darling? Somehow I don't care that she slept with him. She told me and I didn't care. Shit, I even suspected it, and the only thing I thought about when she confirmed it, was how to get us all through the winter."

You stroke through his hair in slow motions and he leans harder into your touch, "And instead of supporting me, she tells me and expects a due response. As if I don't have a hundred other thoughts in mind. How twisted is that, please? I don't care about my wife and I'd rather think about the fact that I don't know how to handle the pressure of making life and death decisions. Decide your life and your death."

For a brief moment you wait to see if he wants to say anything else, but instead he presses himself tighter against your body, as if he can't stand to be away from you, and you tickle through his curls, which seems to please him as you whisper in a husky voice, "You're not twisted, Rick. You're giving it everything you've got, and there's nothing wrong or amiss with the way you feel. Don't beat yourself up because you might feel differently than it would be socially acceptable to react to a woman cheating on you. You feel what you feel and there's nothing you can do about that, nor do you have to."

You tug lightly on his curls, eliciting a soft groan from him before murmuring in a buttery smooth voice, "And yes Rick, you make choices but we all know you make the ones you feel are right and everyone sees your efforts. No one would ever blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself. You look out for us as best you can and in return I'll look out for you as best I can. I promise."

He feels tears coming to his eyes, and he's not really the type of man to start crying quickly. Especially not with a second person.

But it surprises him himself that he doesn't care with you and isn't ashamed at all as he buries his face between your breasts and lets out everything that's been building up since the hospital and lets you stroke his hair until he falls asleep on top of you.

Prison

You brush your hair out of your face as you step into the anteroom of your jail cells and hear Rick's raucous laughter.

When you see him sitting at the table with Hershel and Glenn, you can't help but smile broadly. Not too long ago, Rick was way too close to the abyss, and now seeing him so relaxed and at ease makes your heart leap.

Slowly you walk towards the happy group and frown as you watch Glenn waving his arms trying to explain something. The situation looks so funny that you don't notice the alcohol bottles on the table until now, and you realize why Rick is swaying and Glenn looks like he's fighting a battle against invisible flies.

But when Rick sees you he immediately tries to get up and almost knocks over the whiskey on the table, if Hershel hadn't grabbed it first.

Stumbling, he comes toward you and slurs, "Darlin'."

As soon as he can reach for you, he pulls you into his arms and you can't suppress a giggle, "Could it be that you're drunk, Sheriff?"

He keeps his hands on your hips as he pulls away from you and half turns to the people sitting at the table, "Am I? I don't know."

Hershel, who is the only one sober, throws me a pitying smile and I stand on my tiptoes to breathe a kiss on Rick's cheek.

Immediately he turns his attention back to me and I tug on his belt loop, "Will you let me go? I'd like to get some sleep."

The smile he gives me is mischievous and makes him seem much younger than he is, "Haven't you noticed?"

You frown and he winks at you awkwardly, due to the alcohol in his blood, "I never want to let you go."

Again you tug at his pants, "You probably don't even realize right now how incredibly wrong that sounded. On any level." Still, you can't stop laughing.

But just as he said, he doesn't let go of you and instead pulls you to his seat at the table.

He plops down in his seat and fits you tighter so he can pull you onto his lap, but you brace yourself, "Rick, I want to go to sleep."

You didn't know how good he was at pouting until now and you swallow hard as he looks at you with his blue eyes, "Darlin' please. Stay with me a little longer. Then I'll come to bed with you."

You sigh, "Rick..."

And he tugs on your hip again, "Please? I can only sleep with you."

You are well aware of the looks the others are giving you. Even though everyone knows that Rick and you share a bed, even though you're just friends, it's still strange to see him begging in this way while you're not alone.

With everyone else, he's always the somewhat cocky leader, and once he's alone with you, you feel like you could ask him to crawl on the floor and he'd do it for you.

You lower your voice a bit and stroke his dark curls, "That doesn't mean I'm kicking you out of bed, Rick."

You immediately see that he's ready to argue, but before he can say anything, Merl, who has recently come to live with you, walks in and laughs harshly, "So big Rick Grimes is begging to sleep in bed with a chick who won't even let him fuck her."

You couldn't care less what Merl normally has to say, but Rick is already not controlled when he's sober, and now that he's drunk, even the minimum level of control is lost.

Thanking God you react quickly enough to push Rick back onto his butt by the shoulders and hiss, "Shut up, Merl."

Grinning, he takes a step closer, "Oh come on. He can take it. If you don't want him anymore, you're welcome to come over to my place. It's just that I'm more into it when chicks beg me to fuck them."

You grab Rick firmly by the hair as he tries to get back up and drag him down as he growls, "You miserable asshole."

You look to Glenn for help, but he's looking spellbound at the scene in front of him and Merl is far from done, "What's Rick? Afraid you're going to sleep alone tonight?"

You can see it very clearly. You see when the last fuse blows on Rick and you grit your teeth and tug at his hair so hard that he has to look at you and you say quietly, "Forget him, Rick. I ain't going nowhere."

Merl laughs harshly and you wheel around to him, "And what's your problem? Do you really need it that bad? Laughing at Rick asking me to sleep in a bed with him and not having anyone with you yourself, am I seeing this right? You need to come on to me in that disgusting way, but let's get one thing straight: Before I come to bed with you, I'd rather sleep alone in the woods, and you know what's funny? You might think it's pathetic that Rick sleeps in a bed with me and doesn't nail me, but guess who's going to be lying in bed pressed up against a woman's body afterwards, touching me however he pleases? Right! Not you."

Merl stares at you with his mouth open and Rick is already starting to get up again when Hershel blinks several times and stands up, "Okay, let's all calm down and take a deep breath. Merl, I think it's best if you leave now."

For a brief moment, you think he's going to say something stupid again, but you glare defiantly at him and he softly growls something about "fucking whore" before disappearing and you drop onto Rick's lap with a deep sigh.

It stays quiet until you grumble, "Aren't you going to keep drinking?"

Rick wraps his hands around your stomach and pulls you closer to his chest, "Darlin'..."

Again you sigh, "Rick, give it a rest."

You don't feel like talking about it anymore, and as another attempt is made to address you, you turn your head in his direction and mumble lazily in his ear, "It's all right. If you're thinking about what Merl said, forget it. I like how soft you are to me. Only to me."

With the words, you kiss him briefly behind the ear and then turn your gaze back to the whiskey bottle, "Okay, I could use a drink."

All the while you remain sitting on Rick's lap, letting him push you back and forth when you sometimes get too heavy for him in the long run.

Only once do you slide closer to him yourself, but where he immediately grabs you tighter and slurs harshly in your ear, "Don't, Darlin'."

You know full well that your cheeks are getting hot and you quickly excuse yourself before he pushes you back into another spot.

The bottle doesn't last long, and as Hershel announces that he wants to get into bed, everyone else starts moving as well.

Rick, who had been swaying before, leans on you with his full weight and you're also drunk enough that you can't quite walk straight.

Giggling and stumbling, you drop onto the bed and you slide against the wall as you always do, while you kick your shoes off your feet and Rick unhandily peels himself out of his pants.

You watch him do it, as you have every time since you first fell asleep together.

It's not just Rick who can sleep better with you. You also love his weight on you and the heat he radiates.

Sluggishly, he crawls into bed with you and slides between your legs to rest his head on your breasts.

Under his lashes, he looks up at you, "Thank you."

You bite your lower lip and stroke his curls as you always do, "For what, Sheriff?"

Quietly, he clears his throat, "For what you said to Merl."

His hand slides over your hip bone and you feel the touch all the way down to your toes as you take a shaky breath, "It's just the truth."

He turns his head a bit and puts his hand just below your chest and for the first time you hope he would move his hand higher.

Even if it was just by accident.

But he stays still and mumbles, "Still. You didn't have to do that, and that's why I thank you."

You can't bring yourself to say a word, and you don't need to, because Rick falls asleep on top of you a short time later, too.

Alexandria

You stretch out on the bed and blink against the sun that falls into the bedroom you share with your boyfriend Rick.

Grumbling, Rick presses a kiss to your bare stomach and looks up at you from below, "Everything alright, darling?"

Grinning, you look into his scrunched up face and push his hair a little flatter on his head because his curls are sticking out in all directions, "Yes, Rick."

The golden light of the rising sun shines on him in a way that makes it look like he's surrounded by a halo, and you stare at him dreamily.

Never could you put into words how much you love him and have for a long time.

Already on the farm you were addicted to him, only you never realized it and then he told you in prison that he loves you and not only sees you as his best friend. Never having seen you only as his best friend and you couldn't help but fall head over heels for a relationship with the stubborn and impulsive leader of your group.

After the war with Negan, things are quiet and you enjoy the mornings you spend together in bed maybe even a little too much.

Still you just look at him and he rests his chin on your stomach and puts his hands on the sides of your naked breasts.

Along the way, he paints little circles on them with his thumbs, paying no attention to your nipples, which immediately perk up as he looks at you questioningly with his bright eyes, "Do I have something on my face?"

And smiling at him, "No, sorry."

Again he breathes a kiss on your skin, "You don't have to apologize. I like it when you look at me like that."

Lazily you put your hands to his cheeks and gently tug on his beard, "Hmmm, how do I look at you?"

His smile we lascivious, "Like you were waiting for round two from last night."

Giggling, you tug harder on his beard, "Maybe."

Before he can push himself over you, though, you murmur softly, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Immediately he sees the uncertainty in your eyes and pauses for a moment, "Did I do something wrong?"

Of course, he looks to blame himself first. Always at himself first.

So you quickly shake your head and nervously bite your lower lip, "No, no. That's not the point."

Slowly, he slides off of you to rest on his elbow beside you, "What's wrong, darling?"

You can't stand it when he doesn't touch you and instead place your own hand on his chest, "We're safe here, Rick."

He sighs deeply, "Darling, I have no idea what you're getting at."

You realize you're beating around the bush, but you don't have the heart to just say it, so you go wide again, "You're a great dad."

Rick grabs your chin and pushes your head up so you can't avoid his gaze: "Okay, now tell me what's going on or I'm going to lose it."

Shakily, you exhale, "Would you like to have a baby with me?"

Rick freezes.

His hand slips from your chin and he swallows hard, "You want a baby?"

Unsure, you blink up at him, "Yeah? If you don't want to, that's okay too. We don't have to do anything you don't-" His lips are on yours.

Surprised, you moan into the kiss and Rick slides his body over yours.

It's similar to the feeling of him laying on top of you so he can sleep only then he's not pressing his hips into a very specific spot and he's certainly not humming in your ear, "I sure as hell want a baby and I'm all for getting it on right now, darling."

Your heart hammers in your chest and you gasp softly, "Okay."

You move your hands to his shoulder blades and press your fingers into them as he turns to your neck and spreads wet kisses over your sensitive skin.

He's so warm and hard on you that it feels like your own skin is too small for you and you start to squirm under him, "Don't drag it out, Rick. Please."

He chuckles against your neck and slides between your legs so you can feel his cock where you need it most.

Roughly, you moan and push yourself further toward him, but he presses you back down on the bed with his free hand and murmurs hoarsely, "Easy. Wait a moment. I don't want to hurt you, darling."

Rick lifts his head and the love and admiration in his eyes makes you giddy and you nod slightly, "Okay."

Smiling, he presses a soft kiss to your lips and positions himself so that his tip is pressing against you and you shakily try to suppress pushing Rick against his handsome ass with your heels so that he is finally inside you.

His lips hover over yours as he penetrates you inch by inch, whispering over and over how much he loves you.

It's not the freakiest sex you've ever had, and it's not the hardest, but the way he doesn't take his eyes off you for a second and is so deep inside you that it feels like he's perpetuating himself inside you makes it the best sex you've ever had.

Every little touch of his hands on your body is pure intimacy and you have to pull yourself together not to start crying with happiness.

Then, when he kisses you hard on the mouth and you chase your climax together, you can't control yourself and shuffle into the kiss, "Rick, I love you. I love you so much."

He looks into your eyes briefly before leaning over you and kissing the tears on your cheek, "I know, darling. I know."

You grab his cheek and pull him back to your mouth, wishing this moment would never end.

@hail-yourselves  @bean-is-reading  @chanlvr2  @criminalwalkingsupernatural  @sunshinevirus  @toxic-ink  @kingtwhiddleston  @bloodycherry22  @vane28282  @bamslover  @revesephemeres  @emo-potato-virgil  @tropodyn  @mrsashleybarnes18-blog  @igotbasicdrag @moonshine147 @1-800-isabellapotter @starkstiless

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 8

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

I wanna add we're really heavy on the birth/pregnancy, forced birth, choking, domestic violence, threats of hanging and murder. Can't say I didn't warning yuh (unless i missed a warning of course. then please let me know so i cant edit ASAP) Like this is a rough chapter, a lot of violence to a pregnant woman. but I wanna say right now...

The baby will not be harmed in anyway. Baby will be born healthy, and live and have a good life in both the main ending and alt ending.

5k words (sorry not sorry lol)

Also to clarify a few things I guess i didn't make clear enough in previous chapters!

Joel only 'guessed' that Tommy and LO slept together. He had suspicions but thought he could trust Tommy and his 'girlfriend'. When LO rushed to stop Joel from hurting Tommy, that was his 'evidence'. Joel was beating Tommy because he found out about Maria.

Joel only heard part of the conversation between Zach and Little One. Nick said way back in chapter 3 the wall are thinner than she thinks. He didn't know Lorenzo had any part of it, and because LO didn't rat him out, he never will.

Thats my bad for not being clear!

Can you catch the Superstore homage? (aka i rewatched two episodes just to take it line for line lol)

***************

Month 3

No one warned you about morning sickness. 

You knew fuck all about sex before you came to Joel’s, just a thing or two from your friend back at the ranch and how to get a man off with your mouth or hands, but pregnancy and birth was next to nothing. You didn’t even know how pregnancy happened really, other than a penis in a vagina until you asked Tommy early on if you were going to get pregnant. After a very uncomfortable talk for both of you, Tommy explained that Joel told him he pulls out, so you should be good… Lorenzo said you can still get pregnant that way, but thinking back to the night Joel almost killed Tommy and you… Joel finished inside… the timing added up. 

Pregnancy and birth were entirely unknown to you, and you wished someone would just give you a heads up. Joel had a daughter and no doubt had been through at least once pregnancy, and Lorenzo had mentioned 4 of his 6 older sisters got pregnant before leaving the house… something about no sex education, men too old for them, and their religion not believing in birth control or abortion… but you didn’t know what half those words meant, and after Lorenzo mercilessly made fun of you for days about not knowing Joel’s song for you was actually a very famous song, you didn’t dare ask him about the words, or anything with pregnancy. You didn’t want to ask Joel either, not wanting to give away how terrified you were, not wanting him to think you didn’t want to… But you did! You did want this baby, you reminded yourself again and again and again, because Joel was good to you, Joel took care of you, Joel would care for this baby too. You’d be bound to him, and he’d never get tired of you this way, and he wouldn’t hurt the mother of his child, right?

The birth was something you tried not to think about.

So here you were, puking your gut out before you even had breakfast and Joel held your hair back.

“Shhh, shhhhhhh” he coo’d and you heaved, yellow bile and acid coming up from inside you since the little food in your stomach from dinner had been thrown up 5 minuets ago.

With a final spit into the toilet, you sink back and Joel wipes your mouth for you. “I think that’s it.” You mutter, and Joel carries you into your shared bedroom, laying you down with the care of an infant before kissing your forehead. 

“Don’t worry about breakfast, little one. I don’t need anything this morning.” He says before kissing your cheek. But you were worrying about breakfast, because you wanted it… but the only way you’d be getting food is if you made it. Tommy wasn’t here to care for you anymore. “I’ll be gone until the evening, what's for dinner?”

The thought of cooking, the thought of raw meats and the strong smells of spices made you want to vomit again. “I dunno…”

“I think a few of them chickens is ready to be butchered, you ever made chicken parmesan? We got that cheese I brought back yesterday, you could make something like that.”

You groan a bit, exhausted and tired despite being only 3 months in. You didn’t sleep at all last night, nightmares of the past and the future plaguing you. He knew that you didn’t sleep, you had told him… “Joel I can’t, the butchering, I feel so-”

“I’ll make Lorenzo do it.” He promises. “Chicken parmesan it is then?” He decided for you. What he didn’t understand is it wasn’t just butchering a few chickens. To make chicken parm you need chicken breasts, not the rest of it. You didn’t waste meat, so Lorenzo kills (you could do it on a normal day, but not with your heightened smell) then you pluck, clean, Lorenzo butchers, then you have to separate the different parts and put them into hygienic storage and take them to the freezer locker, then thoroughly clean yourself, all the tools and surfaces (and Lorenzo) to prevent illness. It would take hours. But Joel didn’t see that, he only ever saw the food at the end of his day.

“Okay” You agree reluctantly, and he begins kissing your neck and groping you, no doubt wanting a quicky before a long day of unspeakable violence. “Joel, please, I don’t feel good.” You beg him not to, but you learned in the past that this never got far.

His morning breath wasn’t helping anything as he tugged down your shorts. “I’ll be quick.”

You knew what that meant. Joel slid into you with no prep, no lubrication, and it burned. The steady rocking was the last thing you needed right now, and with his head buried in your neck, you covered your mouth as the nausea took over. You threw up, but like everything the last several months, you just swallowed it down again to deal with when Joel was gone. When he came inside (wasn’t he worried about you getting pregnant again?) you quickly pull up your pants and run to the bathroom, pushing past Lorenzo no doubt on his way to babysitting duties with you. 

As he watched you run past and heard the sounds of throwing up, Lorenzo caught Joel’s arm as he brushed past. “Peppermint or ginger. Find it, whatever form it's in. Oils, drops, whatever. If you can find the leaves or the root we can make it into a tea. Just find it, it’ll help her nausea.”

Month 4

“Okay Lorenzo, I got a question for you, and you can’t make fun of me.” You say as you cook, the swell of your belly beginning to show now.

“No guarantees.” He says, sitting his drink. How did he find so much alcohol?

“Fine. Okay… when Joel and I have sex-”

He visibly cringed. “Since when do we talk about our sex lives?” 

“Renzo.”

“Fine, go on. But remember I’m not exactly an expert on female anatomy.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. Well I told you he always pulls out right? Um… ever since I told him im pregnant… he doesn’t.”

Lorenzo waits for you to continue, but you don’t. You think that’s it. “What the problem?”

You continue to avoid looking at him, stirring the soup. “Well.. what if I get pregnant again?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to make sense of your question before the recognition sets in. “OH!” But before he explains what he means… his face shifts… theres something sad in there, a hint of pain in his eyes you only saw once, the face he had as he looked at you in disgust while Joel carried you from the bedroom to the bath while you were covered head to toe in spit and cum and period blood… was it pity? “Jesus kid… No one really taught you anything, did they?”

“C’mon, just tell me.”

Scrubbing his face, he sighed. “No, you can’t get pregnant while your already pregnant.”

Oh. “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Ah. Okay then.”

There was a long, long silence before he spoke again. “If you got any other question about, like… pregnancy and birth… I can try and answer.”

Joel had been trying to find a doctor, a midwife, something for you… but it was slim pickings in Wyoming. 

Five minuets later, you were squealing, covering your ears, but laughing. “Ew! What the hell is a mucus plug! You know what, I don’t wanna-”

“IT’S A PLUG FULL OF MUCUS IN YOUR VAGINA WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS?!?!” He yells loud enough to get past your attempt at blocking your ears. 

“NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” But you still could.

“Honestly in the last month or two all kinds of weird things are gonna come out of you including but not limited to a very slimey and weird looking baby.”

You gasp, feigning indignance. “How dare you insult my unborn child!”

“It ain’t personal, sweetheart. All babies look ugly as fuck as newborns. Now, let’s get back to the gritty details.”

With a squeal, you try to run away. “No! I know enough!” But you’re laughing. It felt like you were messing around with Zach back in your childhood home. 

“My sister Elaina lost like 4 teeth.”

“AAAHHHHH!”

Month 5

Joel had finally found a midwife of sorts. Well, technically, Jack did, as it was his cousin. Maura had been a nurse in the birthing wing a short time before everything went to shit and had been helping women deliver babies ever since. Initially, she told Jack to keep his mouth shut. She hated Joel and didn’t want a thing to do with him, but when no one else showed up and you were in your 5th month, she relented, purely for the sake of the innocent kidnapped girl. 

“Put the fucking gun away, Joel.” She said as she entered your room, grabbing the barrel in Joel’s hands and pointing it to the floor. “Point that shit at me again and I’m not helping your child bride.” She stared him down, head tilted up only slightly to reach his eyes. If she was intimidated by Joel, she wouldn’t

Joel glared at her, but he didn’t have many options. “If you hurt her-”

“From what I hear, you’re doing enough of that yourself. Now, you stand up against the wall and watch if you want to, but don’t interfere, and do not try to intimidate me, understood?”

You watched in awe as she stood her ground… It had been months before you had done anything of the sort against Joel, only standing up to him when Tommy’s life was in danger. Joel gave a curt nod and she turn to approach where you lay, sat up against some pillows.

A gentle smile was on her face, but it was clear she was here for business. Still, her confidence and certainty put you at ease.

“My name’s Maura, I’ll be helping deliver this baby.” She was beautiful, with long black hair and a light smattering of freckles on her face, but got straight to the point. It was clear she knew what she was doing, asking you questions you hadn’t even thought of yet and examining you. When she was done, she stood up, looking at you, not Joel. “It seems despite the circumstances-”

Joel tried to interrupt. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean”

But Maura ignored him, keeping your attention with her bright brown eyes. “Despite the circumstances, everything appears to be progressing naturally, theres no cause for concern as of right now. But you need to keep things low stress.” It was then she turned to glare at Joel, to emphasize her point.

Maura said she’d be staying near-by and Joel was paying her a hefty price for her services. When you’d go into labor, Joel was to send a man on horse to fetch her, preferably Jack, but she warned she would armed, and she’d be there shortly.

That night, Joel held you close as you discussed baby names. 

“How about Loretta? Like that singer you liked?”

Joel hums, none commital. “I always liked Dorothy, we could call her Dolly as a nickname. I know you like Dolly Parton” Joel had been teaching you about old country music, and you certainly had a few favorites. Not knowing many women in general, your pool of girl names was not strong so you drew from singers he’d mentioned. 

You scrunch up your nose a bit at that. “I like Dolly, I don’t like Dorothy.”

“It was my grandmas name, I’d really like to name our daughter after her.” His voice had that tone to it, the one that left little room to argue, but you tried to push past Dorothy.

“Maybe June? Like June Carter?” You knew how particle he was to Johnny Cash, but also... that was the name of the only friend you had before Tommy.

“That’s beautiful, little one, June it is.” He smiles into your skin, and you think you’ve won, when he says. “Dorothy June.” 

He had already decided, and there was no real option to argue or change his mind. You’d just call her Dolly, then.

You had one thing you really, really wanted for boy name, and you desperately hoped you could get it, but you couldn’t tell him why. You didn’t want any more kids so this was your only shot. You hadn’t even wanted this one, but as your stomach swelled with life, motherly love came with it and you decided you’d make the best of the situation. The child inside you was your number one priority. “Okay, boys? I really like Caleab… It’s my favorite boy name…” You didn’t have to tell him that was Zach’s middle name.

“I like it, bebita.” 

You got what you wanted. You knew Joel was hoping for a girl, so you figured he was less particular on the boy name. 

“Got any ideas for the middle name?” You ask him.

“Nothing in mind, really. I’m open…” He kisses your neck.  “Anything you want?”

You keep quiet. The name you wanted… he’d never go for.

Joel pulled you closer, nuzzling his face against you as he whispered. “Ah. I see.” You freeze. Tommy hadn’t been so much as alluded to since he barely made it out alive and you thought for sure Joel would have a fit, and you began to prepare yourself to feel a hand wrapped around your throat… But he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed into your locks as he settled down for bed. “Caleb Thomas”

Month 6 

Lorenzo was getting on your fucking nerves today, and you were about to fling the frying pan, bubbling grease and all, at his face. 

“Will you shut up?”

“No, I’m not going to shut up because you are being fucking stupid!” Instead of his usual spot sitting at the kitchen table, he’s standing, arms crossed, in the doorway as you tried to get diner done. “I told you the first day, you are a dumb. Bitch.” he was drunk, three sheets to the wind and absolutely no filter.

“You have no fucking idea what I am! I am trying to fucking survive, Lorenzo, I am trying to keep myself and this baby-”

“You are playing housewife to a serial murder and a rapist!” He yells at you, clearly frustrated. “You are rewarding all the bad things he’s ever done you just give positive reinforcement-”

“Don’t fucking blame me! I’m not reinforcing the bad, I’m reinforcing the good!” You storm over to him, glaring Lorenzo down. “You have no fucking idea how bad things were! I used to dream about killing myself, about dying, about Joel finally snapping and doing it! I am doing the best in the conditions I have!”

“You could have left! You could have left with Zach and gone off with him for fucks sake!”

With a burst of anger you didn’t know was even in you anymore, you shove him, hard, causing the drunk to fall over. “You wanna know what he did last time I tried to run? He caught me within 10 minuets, dragged me back and chained me to this table-” You point at the table that you and Joel sit at most evenings now for diner. “And raped me in front of everyone, Lorenzo! Then he branded me and left me to be gang raped by all your little buddies here! And no one could stop him, not even Tommy! All Tommy could do is stand by and watch, and unchain me after Joel left before anyone could do anything more!”

Lorenzo was not deterred. “That’s my fucking point!”

“If I leave and he catches me, I am dead!”

Scoffing, Lorenzo rolls his eyes from where he’s slumped against the floor. “Yeah, that’s why”

Unsure how much more you can take from him, you motion him to continue.

“You just don’t wanna admit you fell in love with your rapist.”

That was enough. You begin to walk away from him, but he follows after you. 

“What about when you give birth, huh? What kind of father is he going to be? Are you going to stand by while he beats your kids?”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, still walking away. 

“And what if you have a daughter? You just gonna let him molest her like your dad-”

You wipe around so fast you don’t even have time to blink. “No, Joel isn’t like that.” 

Lorenzo laughs at you, cruel and loud. “You are 20 years younger than him, he raped you! You really think he’s above-”

“YES! He will not hurt her like that!”

“And if you have a son? Do you really wanna raise a man like Joel? The kind of man who beats and rapes innocent girls?”

Tears prickle at your eyes now, a terrible tightness in your chest bubbling with stomach bile. “N-no, that’s not gonna happen, I won’t let-”

“Oh, because you’ve had so much choice the last year, havn’t you. Sooooo much control.”

“I won’t.” You shake your head vigorously. “I won’t let anything happen to my baby, Joel won’t hurt them.”

“So, say he doesn't. You really gonna raise a kid here? Half the men here would’ve raped you, given the chance! You really think your child is safe here?”

You can’t argue with him when he’s right. But he doesn’t get it. Joel is good now, Joel protects you, Joel will protect the baby… Joel is gentle now… soft, kind… he thinks of you, he sings you songs… he plays music for you, he’ll be a good dad… You’ll be okay…

You shut down, going into autopilot. You don’t look at Lorenzo as you walk back to the kitchen to finish frying the chicken. Joel would be home soon.

Month 7

“JACK! GET MAURA!” Joel shouts as you groan on the bed, the tight contractions hurting.

“Joel, it hurts!” You call for him, and in a flash Joel is at your bedside, letting you squeeze his hand. 

“I know, little one, I know…” He pets your hair, having flashbacks to Sarah’s birth…. He wanted another girl so bad, but god, he just wanted a healthy baby and for his girl to make it out alive. Birth was dangerous in modern medicine, nonetheless a post-apocalyptic shitstorm. 

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, biting his nails. “You’re not due for another 8 weeks!”

Grunting through the pain, you let a rare bout of sarcasm slip. “Oh yeah, that’s right, never mind.”

“Could be false labor, you know? That’s called Braxton-Hicks contractions?” Lorenzo looked more nervous than you.

Joel ignored him. “It’s gonna be okay, Maura’s on her way and I think even out here 32 weeks is gonna be okay.” Joel wasn’t entirely sure about his own words. 32 weeks meant a premature baby, and pre-mature usually meant NICU… but there was no NICU to go to… if the babies lungs were under developed or anything like that, there were no options. 

Lorenzo was chewing through his nails enough to draw blood. “Or maybe it’s Braxton-Hicks”

At that, Joel finally acknowledges Lorenzo. “Okay, we get it, you know the term Braxton-Hicks, we’re all very impressed.”

“AHHHHHHH” You yell, wishing to get there was something for the pain.

Lorenzo wouldn’t shut up. “Okay, contractions are getting longer, that means your in active labor?”

“Her water hasn’t broke yet!” 

“Is she dilated?”

“Does it look like her pants are off to you?”

“Well check!”

“I don’t know how to tell! Weren’t you bragging last month you helped your sister give birth in a Walmart?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to check if she’s dilated!”

“You know more than me!”

“I’m not sticking my fucking face between legs!”

“Oh, because you’re gay you’re suddenly scared of vagina’s?”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you’d rather let her just die?”

“DIE? Joel she’s not gonna die because I’m not looking at her fucking cu-”

“GUYS” you shout, causing both to turn and look at you. “The contractions stopped.”

There’s a moment of silence before Lorenzo speaks. “Oh. Huh. That’s uhhh… Braxton-Hicks I guess. False labor.”

As Joel kissed you that night, sex was the last thing you wanted, but you knew there was no point in fighting it.

Joel sucked on your throat, already bruised with dark marks from the night before, now sore and aching with new licks and bites, his hands roaming to expanse of skin presented before him. Gripping, feeling, pinching, tugging, some things felt good, some hurt, but that didn’t matter. He’d get you off, he always did, at night anyway, but you knew sometimes he just liked to feel you, feel what he owned.  The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Your belly round and swollen with child, he could not hardly keep his hand off it, every time his hand traveled to explore, it quickly found itself returning to its home, never wanting to miss a kick. He slithered down, nestling his face between your legs and devouring your pussy the way he did your neck, the way he did every piece of you, body and soul and until there was nothing left but this subservient version of you, weak and obedient to his hands. He lapped you up, skilled tongue exploring through your folds only pausing to nibble at the soft skin of your thighs or kiss the round stomach above him. He felt extra possessive today, a desperate, anxious way about him as he devoured you so hungrily you wondered if he intended to eat you, swallow you whole to keep you with him forever; a communion, and you were the eucharist, a matrimony of cannibalism. 

You wanted to tug at his hair, you wanted to entangle yourself in him but your belly was in the way, so you simply laid back and enjoyed as he tongue fucked you, prodding at your entrance, his hands on the globe where your child waits to be born.

“Fuck, Joel, need you, need to cum, please.”

You beg for him, plead, and he devours. Joel knows you love when his perfect, plus lips such at your mound and your clit with long fingers fingering into you, and you yelp when they curl up and hit that spot inside you. “Keep moaning, little one, let me hear you.”

You obliged. Sometimes you wondered how sick everyone in the house was of hearing you, but they weren’t the ones you needed to please; pleasing Joel kept you alive.

“I need you inside me, please” Nudging him with your leg as you cry for his cock. “Joel, I gotta have you inside me, I need to cum on your cock, please? Please, Joel-”

A wet, sloppy sound as he detached from you, and his eyes looked just as hungry as he acted while he crawled up. “You beg so pretty, little one, such a pretty little cock whore.”

But you didn’t have time for his talking, you needed him inside you, now; the hormones of the pregnancy had a mind of their own. You take a chance and push him down, watching Joel smile as you straddle his waist. “God, I just- just need you.”

“The take me, little one, take me” 

You cry out as you sink down onto him, feeling your cunt split on him. “Fuuuck!” Sobbing, you take him fully and begin to fuck yourself on him.

“Just like that, pretty girl, fuck, taking me so well, gonna have you all stretched out to have this baby, huh? Gonna give me a child, little girl? A baby of our own? Fuck, fuck you look so pretty like this, swollen with my child, stretching your stomach as I stretch your cunt, fucking perfect, my perfect wife.”

Wife.

Wife.

Wife?!

You knew Joel was delusional… but fuck, Lorenzo was right… you were playing house wife. Joel thought of you as his wife… 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, again, and again, keep you constantly knocked up, make our happy little family, you and me and a dozen little kids running around, FUCK, our family, our family.”

You continued the pace, you couldn’t falter, you couldn’t slow down, you couldn’t hesitate; you couldn’t give any sort of reason for him to think you didn’t want this…

But it suddenly struck you

You were trapped. Joel trapped you with a baby, knowing you’d need him to protect it, knowing you’d never leave your child… and now he was going to keep you pregnant. You could never leave with 5,6,7 kids, it would be impossible. 

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock little one, just little that…” Joel reached out to touch you, roughly manhandling your tits that were swollen and engorged.

You begin to cry, but that wouldn’t give away anything for Joel; he fucking loved that shit.

One hand on your breast, one on your clit. “Cry on my cock, baby girl, cry when you cum.”

You did, you sobbed as you came, your body betraying the horrors you felt at his hands.

Month 8

“Hey Joel? Can I talk to you about something?”

You had to do it. You had to. And it had to be now. You two had fucked less than half an hour ago and he was currently eating your food, humming contently. He was always lovey-dovey after sex, and was always much happier after food… The pair didn’t line up often, so now was your chance. 

“What’s on your mind, little one? Nervous about being a mother? You’ll be a great mom; I just know it.” He smiled at you with puppy dog eyes, looking up from his plate, and you couldn’t help smiling back, not when he showered you with compliments.

“Well… you’ve said before you wanted lots of kids… but we… well this little baby was an accident.”

“A miracle, not an accident.” Joel corrected you. You didn’t see how conceiving a child the night he was threatening to blow your brains onto a wall for sleeping with his brother if you didn’t shoot said-baby’s uncle was a miracle… but you digress

“Right. Well… we never really talked about more kids… and although I’m over the moon about this baby, I did initially not want to have it.” Joel’s face began to darken, but you powered through. “Maybe we could see how we feel about one kid after a few years before thinking about-”

Joel slammed down his silverware. “What are you trying to say.”

But you freeze. This was a bad idea, you needed to placate immediately, you needed to calm him down. “N-nothing, Joel, just thinking out loud.”

He stood up, a deadly, blank stare on his face, so far removed from the adoration as he bestowed kisses on your ever-growing belly. Joel walked around the table, standing behind you and placing firm hands on your shaking shoulders, leaning into your ear. 

“You say’n you don’t want my kids? Don’t wanna be their mama? You don’t wanna be my wife?”

“No, no that’s not-” But you don’t get a chance to finish, his hand is wrapped around your throat and insane strength pulling you up and out of the chair, the wooden furniture toppled to the side in a loud clatter. He slams the back of your head against the drywall, you’re toes barely touch the ground; struggling to breath, you claw at his hand, but he doesn’t even blink.

The panic begins to set it.

“YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE! YOU DO NOT GET TO MAKE CHOICES!” He screams, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as a few men hesitantly gather, like vultures waiting on the next piece of deadmeat. You couldn’t see who, but it didn’t matter. Even the good ones couldn’t intervene.

Joel’s face was suddenly right in front of yours. “Everything you have, any freedom, any luxuries, any power you think you have is because I have given it to you.” Black spots appeared, your vision blurring, sinking into the unknown and god, did it feel sweet. Was it finally over? “I bought you, I own you, you have no rights! You are nothing! You are nothing but a toy for me to play with, a breeding bitch and you should be so lucky to sit at my table!”

He let go, but as you gasped for breath, Joel yanked at your hair and patched you across the room, not letting go of his grasp on you as you flung into the counter. What he didn’t know, what he could never understand was how the handle of the draw rammed into the brand on your side. Suddenly, all sense, all rational went out the window, and you were violently thrust back to last year as he burned his initials into your skin. The flashbacks were triggered, and the result was nothing short of hysteria. You cry out for the only person who would step in.

“TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMYYYY” You scream, the fact Tommy was miles away didn’t matter, nor did the fact this would only anger Joel more. This didn’t matter; you wanted him, no one but him, and all sense was knocked out of you.

Joel pulls you up by your hair and slaps you hard enough that you taste blood and screams at you to not say Tommy’s name, but you can’t stop, you scream and scream and scream for him to come save you and your baby, the precious little life inside you that has never done anything wrong. 

You fight and claw and panic, hysterics drowning out the one or two voices telling Joel to stop; who they belonged to, you couldn’t say. 

Joel stopped listening, and the voices grow louder as Joel drags you, kicking and screaming, outside; rope and a chair in his hand, your hair in the other, and Joel walked with long strides to a tree outside.

****************

YEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHHHH Cliiiiiff hanger, hanging from a cliiiiiiffff thats why he's caaaaallled, Cliff Hangers!

Who else used to watch Inbetween The Lions? Anyway.

Who wanna guess what happens!

Only two chapters left!

For the sake of credit, if you didn't find the superstore reference or dont watch the show, most of the dialogue between Joel and Lorenzo and LO was between Amy and Jonah from two birth related episodes of superstore

Also, Maura is named after my dear dear friend @maura-honey who although is not generally a fanfiction girlie, made a tumblr so she could read, like and reblog this series and always sends me such lovely messages <3

Reblogs are the best way to spread and support, but comments mean the world. I know not everyone likes to share dark content on their blog, but even a kind anon is such support!

for those who voted you dont like or hate or Lorenzo, I hope that doesn't mean you hate him as n he's a bad character. I got a comment on AO3 that said "i cant tell if i like lorenzo or not, but i like him in the story" which makes sense! His victim blaming is really fucking shitty.

no poll today, sorry!

MoonBanana said they think LO copes by lying to herself until she beleives it, what do y'all think? is she as delusional as joel?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Oh, no! Do hit him! Hit him some more!

No sympathy for rapists and human traffickers getting a piece of what they deserve, especially when they get them on something they are definitely guilty of.

Unfortunately, it's only a matter of time before Gu Tingye gets their rotten asses out of prison, so I appreciate at least the beating.

***

LMAO, it couldn't have happened to a nicer bunch of assholes 😂

Honestly, Tingye should just let them rot.

***

LMAO, since he is so precious, how is he going to run the Gu House, if your scheming comes to fruition, hmm?

He sounds too incompetent to live.

***

LMAO, at least Gu Tingyu is owning up to his jackassery.

He certainly is his father's son, waiting until he was on his deathbed to regret a lifetime of abusing his brother for no good reason.

Fuck this entire family. Gu Tingye should let the Emperor exile and execute them all (not that the Emperor would do it because he seems invested in preserving the honour of the entire Gu family for whatever reason).

***

LMAO, don't you mean you wanted to spend it yourselves? 🤣

The audacity of these thieving pieces of shit!

***

Oh, fuck you.

You haven't been a small child for a long time and instead of using your brain and thinking for yourself for one single second, you decided to ostracize, bully and abuse your younger brother FOR YEARS.

We saw the horrific scars on Tingye's body. You all saw this was happening to him and gloated about it. And even if Madam Bai had been responsible for the first Madam Qin's death (which you would know she was not if you had half a brain cell), the tiny child she left behind was innocent.

I hate all these people and feel like they all deserve to die unforgiven, in shame and ignominy.

***

The nerve of him, asking Gu Tingye to treat his wife and child better than he treated him.

He's just lucky Gu Tingye is a much better person than his sorry ass and would never take out grudges on innocent children.

***

LMAO, the absolute nerve.

Of course, adopt the illegitimate child of her own son!

Luckily, Gu Tingyu has finally pulled his head out from his ass and realised that even after all the shit he put Gu Tingye through, he will still treat his daughter better than Madam Qin.

***

Poor kid.

She seems smarter than her mother at the very least and maybe with Minglan's help, she can go on to have a not too terrible life.

***

Honestly, fuck Gu Tingyu.

He allowed himself to be manipulated into being a tool for evil people's ambition and greed and actively took part in bullying and abusing a child for other people's benefit. Even after he became the Marquis, he allowed his clan to descend further into corruption and degeneracy just so that he could continue to scapegoat his brother for no good reason. He was such a weak, petty man, and even when the single solitary lightbulb finally went off in his stupid head allowing him to see Madam Qin for the greedy, manipulative, vicious piece of shit that she is, he still continued to hang onto his single-minded jealousy and resentment. He was perfectly content to continue waging a cold war against Gu Tingye for years and years to come and only backtracked when he realised he was dying and would leave his very young child unprotected in this hellhole that he'd personally had a hand in creating for so many years and at the mercy of monsters he'd happily rolled about in the mud with if it meant victimising his younger brother who had loved and looked up to him.

Anyway, good riddance to bad rubbish. His daughter is better off with Gu Tingye and Minglan anyway and he certainly contributed to nothing good in his lifetime. He regretted nothing and only changed his tune because he knew that if he left his daughter at the mercy of Madam Qin, her life would be completely ruined. I hope he finds no peace in the afterlife, right along with his piece of shit abusive father.

***

OH FUCK YOUUUUUUUU 🤬🤬

I absolutely detest him.

[spiderlegsmusic]

Biden isn’t an ideal candidate. We’ve established that. But these people telling us Biden should drop out don’t give us any alternatives. Who are they going to run instead of Biden? The democrats don’t have anybody. Ok, say you get Biden to drop out of the race. Then what?

They don’t have another Obama or Clinton lying around. They have to outrun a cult of psychos. One thing Trump has exposed since 2016 is exactly how many people in the electorate are mentally ill. The Trump cult including their big orange daddy, is a large population of crazy racists. It’s embarrassing that there are so many deranged people in this country.

It’s embarrassing the democrats don’t have a viable candidate to replace Biden. The only one i would accept is Bernie or or maybe Elizabeth Warren. And who knows if they can defeat the army of crazies?

The world should tremble in their shoes that the dominant superpower in the world is full of crazy people who are running a convicted felon, rapist, racist to be president who has promised to dismantle democracy and withdraw from NATO.

And that the democrats can’t get behind anyone but old Joe. The only person who’s beaten Trump in an election. The democrats are this amorphous pusillanimous group of non-charismatic lumps of playdough who yell that Biden should drop out without giving us an answer for who should replace him.

Kamala Harris? No. I don’t believe in her as anything but a credible VP. So we are going to go down swinging and missing because the democrats have no one who can beat a convicted criminal in an election knowing everything we know about him.

We are going to lose our democracy. Our economy is going to fail. Our standing in the world will fall farther than it ever has. We are going to become the 4th Reich. Do you understand that, people of the world? Do you understand that, people on the left? Democrats?

I will be honest. I will vote for any piece of shit the democrats throw out there because I’m a more or less sane individual who recognizes what Trump is after having lived through the disaster of his last term, while living in Texas which is a state full of insane christofascists.

I don’t want to lose democracy. I don’t want America to become an authoritarian autocracy led by the single worst person to ever live during my lifetime: A bulbous turd who worships Hitler and wants to be a dictator like his buddies.

And then I look at the democrats full of these back biting weak career politicians calling for Biden to drop out without giving us anyone to replace him with. And I hang my head. Literally the most important US Election in my lifetime and it’s going to be a clusterfuck which leads to civil war.

These are dark days in America. Darker than the days after 9-11, Pearl Harbor, because democracy was still going strong after those events. Democracy is on life support right now. And there are no heroes. No one can save us from the big orange criminal turd and his army of insane cultists who are racist and hate women. It is for all the women in my life that I mourn. All my closest friends are women. I love my friends dearly. And I’m watching a bunch of rich crazy racists flush the rights of all women down the toilet while all the rest of us watch it happen with our thumbs up our sad asses.

And these are people that will then fight our civil war? The strength of women will not have have ever been needed like it will be in these coming years starting in 2025. Project 2025 wants all women pregnant, submitting to husbands and worshipping an imaginary cloud guy—sky cake!

To the women of America: please have a plan to leave this country if trump wins. Do not get trapped here. America is sinking and democracy is in its death throes and the crazy racist misogynists have blood in their eyes and the devil in their hearts. Not one of these christofascists has Jesus in their hearts—they’re insane.

Hope gets beaten and raped before it gets murdered. This is a colossal disaster. God damn convicted felon Trump and his cult on insanity. God damn broken down old Joe. God damn the weak democrats who can’t come up with anybody who can beat an overt racist rapist wannabe dictator and his cult on insanity. And god damn the United States and the 4th Reich which will put the 3rd Reich to shame.

And god damn me for not having a cyanide pill…

[beardedmrbean]

Four teenaged brothers and a 15-year-old girl have been sentenced by a Swedish court over the murder of a man she had accused of rape.

The victim, a taxi driver, was found hanged in a nature reserve in central Sweden in March.

The court in Uppsala found that because of the earlier allegations involving the girl he had been lured there with the promise of sexual favours.

He was then overpowered and his body was not found for another week.

The eldest brother, aged 18 at the time, was given a life sentence.

The four others, all minors at the time of the events, were sentenced to between three and four years in a young offenders' institution.

The three older brothers were found guilty of murder. But the girl and her boyfriend, who were 15 when the murder took place, were found not to have been at the scene and were convicted of aiding and abetting the murder.

The taxi driver's body was found hanged from a tree. The court concluded that his killers had sought to disguise the death as a suicide.

Although the five teenagers all denied involvement, the court convicted them on circumstantial evidence put forward by prosecutors.

Evidence including messages between the teenagers was presented by the prosecution as proof of a murder plot.

On 20 March, four days before the victim disappeared, the girl wrote to a friend: "His brothers are going to meet my rapist."

One of the brothers wrote: "We should do Friday [the day of the murder]," to which another brother replied: "OK."

After the killing, one of the brothers used the victim's mobile phone to transfer money from his bank account.

The girl denied knowing that the brothers intended to kill the man, saying she had only thought they would beat him up.

But Lars Holmgard, president of the Uppsala District Court, ruled that the brothers had planned to murder the man at least from the time that they purchased the rope found where he died.

"The plan must have been for [the victim] to be hanged from the rope, in our opinion."

[wenwenbittercake]

Chapter 2: Guilty🍒

✨(TW: Kidnapping, Suicide, mention of SA) ✨

An irritating white light woke you up from your slumber. The first thing you feel is soft. You feel like lying on multiple cushions. You lazily open your eyes, adjusting to the light, trying to get a grip of what’s going on. The last thing you remember was you walking back home. Your limbs feel heavy and your entire body feel sore like you have been throw all over the wall. You groans as you slowly get up then you felt it, your entire body is in some sort of restrain that is connected to the ceiling. The 3 walls and the floor is cover in cushions seemly to protect you. You look in front of you into the black void. You can’t make out what’s beyond the darkness but you sense that someone is definitely there. Something sinister.

“Did you have your beauty sleep?” a voice of a man emerges from the dark.

You instinctively back away from the dark, shifting back until the hit the soft cushion wall. The owner of the voice emerge from the dark and your stomach drops.

“N-Norman?”

“You remember my name. Good. There’s no need for introductions then.” His blurry white eyes stare off to the distance

You wish he could see the fear in your eyes and feel an ounce of mercy for what ever he is about to do next.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t kill her.” You try to sound strong, but your quivering voice didn’t convince him enough.

“No, you didn’t, but you could have prevented it.” His face shows no expression, but you can see annoyance and anger in his tone.

He was right, you should have just tell the truth to the judge. You should have refused that money Alice parents offered. You should have just called the cab no matter how Cindy scream or cried. You have no rights to talk right now, but you didn’t kill Evelyn.

“I-I understand, she killed her and you wanted her to pay. I get it.” You try to reason with him but all hopes are dragged down with his next words.

“You understand nothing. Only a parent knows the bond between a father and his child. Cindy, she should have gone to prison but rich girls don’t go to jail.” What he said is right. In a society like this, rich people like Cindy can do what ever they want and get away with it. You get it but why should you pay for the mess Cindy did?

“Why did I get kidnap, why not Cindy?”

“Cindy is dead.” The silence after those three words is enough to show how you feel. You can’t believe it, that’s why you didn’t see a sight of her during these past days. Did he kill her?

“She hanged herself a few days after the trail. It seems she couldn’t handle the guilt.”

This isn’t right, Cindy isn’t the type of person to kill herself. Yes, what she did was horrible, but you know Cindy. She doesn’t feel sorry enough for anything to kill herself.

“You may not be behind the steering wheel but you are as guilty as one and you know that.” You sob uncontrollably, fearing for the worst. Will he torture me for Cindy’s sins? Will death be more merciful than what’s about to come?

“You took my child, it’s only fair if you give me a new one.” Norman said as he approached you from the dark.

His face is now clearly shown under the white light. Half of his face is covered in scars. He sat in front of you, staring directly at you as if he’s looking straight into your soul.

“No, NO you can’t please. You can’t do this. I’ve never- “

“I am not a rapist; I won’t violate you.” His voice is stern but hoarse.

“I will free you to go back to your live after 9 months after you give me a child. I am a patient man, I will wait until you accept these terms. Until then, you will stay in this basement.”

He stood up and left but before he disappear from your vision he said, “You’re young, strong, you will breed well.”

You are hit with realization, fulling understanding the weight of the matter. You can’t, you won’t. You don’t want to have a child with a monster.

“Noooooo.”

You screams in the dark cellar, the cry and pleads for help dies down in to the dark. You need to get out. You Must get out.

(Thank you so much for reading this monstrosity and yes I will post further chapters depending on how my previous works do. Make sure to drop a like if u like this post and my apologies if there's any grammar errors. Here's chapter 1🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒

[lemonhemlock]

Honestly I think I hate Cersei because she thinks she is some mastermind while she isn’t. Tywin and how he keep holding power for so long is very interesting, btw I love Tywin and Kevan dynamics. Jaime is my fave i just love his storyline. As for Tyrion, there are 2 of them. The book one and the show one. Show one I hate. Book one I kinda enjoy because he constantly flirts with darkness. I don’t buy show Tyrion poor misunderstood meow meow. And I hate that they did the same with show Aemond. That’s why I prefer Aegon and Daemon. From the beginning you know where they stand, there are no attempts to make them sympathetic bullshit. Stop whitewashing characters in order to make characters more sympathising for audience. The reason why the Joker, Soprano Family and Roy family from Succession are so great is because they aren’t portrayed as some poor people being victims of their circumstances all their life. Aemond wanting to console Jace at Driftmark? What the fuck is that? Also giving him sexual trauma made me laugh. The show made it clear I and everyone else is meant to feel sorry for him but I just laughed at how pathetic they are. Like you have weak Viserys, pedo Daemon, rapist and drunkard Aegon and traumatised and with only one eye Aemond. So yeah, the winner of who should be the fan favourite is clear. Instead of showing the 4 of them as bad and letting people choose who their favourite is, they create 3 of them in unsympathetic light and make one of them #1 victim and the other 3 as monsters or weak men. Sorry but I hate the narrative where I am being shown down my throat who I am supposed to love and who to hate. Especially if 3 out of 4 characters are doing terrible things and only one behaves properly until starting the war. I really can’t wait for Aemond to burn Riverlands, most stans would leave his fanclub and began to see Aegon is not the worst guy out there. I just hope TGC won’t stop playing Aegon until the moment Aemond will show everyone what a legit psycho he really is.

idk what to tell you, anon, this is not exactly the blog for cersei haters. i've always found this prevailing tendency of enjoying jaime as a character but disliking cersei to be very strange, bc their POVs are so intertwined and they are as delusional & "awful" as the other so i don't really see the point here. it's a choice i would personally interrogate bc more often than not it has some v unsavory roots. cersei can be just as funny as jaime and he can be just as unhinged as her. also cersei's dumbness is greatly exaggerated, she does have some good ideas and a knack for getting out of tricky situations (some of them of her own making, yes, but she's hardly the idiot fandom likes to paint her as). fans sure love to think they would have made better decisions had they been in her situation.

she also suffers from getting a POV so late in the game, in comparison to her brothers, and is way more affected psychologically by the death of her son than jaime is + the prophecy hanging over her head. she's basically having the worst mental health crisis in AFFC and getting judged for not being Machiavelli's Prince

as for the rest of the message, as i've said in a previous post, i see this desire to not allow characters to be anything other than cardboard villains very reductive and not smth i'm personally interested in fiction. narrative bias and needless demonisation at the expense of others is one thing, but, generally-speaking, why is it somehow superior if they only receive dark traits instead of being humanized & muddled? why is it better writing if aemond is only shown as a psycho killing machine? are the literature gods going to get angry if he tries to be polite one time? the roy siblings weren't coddled by the narrative but they were also shown acting like human beings (clumsily) trying to connect with people

also no actor is going to turn down hbo money and the opportunity to appear in one of the most viewed shows of the year, so i don't see why tgc would stop playing aegon, unless he were fired. these people are professional actors, they may not like or agree with certain character choices but they don't have the luxury of turning down jobs bc of their character is not "true to the text". they still have bills to pay.

[horatiovonbecker]

@lilliankillthisman expressed interest in hearing the outline for Hanged For a Lion, my notional Twig divergence fic. So that's what this post is. Major spoilers for Twig up to Arc 14, and minor ones up through the epilogues.

Arc 4 - Stitch In Time - Early Winter 1921 - Divergence Point

Gordon gets to Fray first, and gives her enough information about Sy's selfdestructive contrarianism - probably going into the backstory thing where he ran away, realized it might get the others killed, and then got his mind wiped when he came back - that Fray manages to pitch Sy effectively on defection. Immediate complications: 1) Gordon doesn't actually understand why Sylvester would have both left (making future escape attempts harder) and also come back (not even getting himself out), which eats at him, and might interfere with pitching. 2) Ashton might get cancelled if the Lambs defect too early.

Not sure how to resolve 1 - I might just have to write it, which I keep putting off because I'd have to reread early Twig first - but for 2, I have two ideas: the Lambs pretend to be loyal for another six months while both sides make preparations, and Fray bribes Sy by promising to make Evette.

Arc 5 - Slip of the Tongue - Late Spring 1922

The Lambs are being deployed more broadly, while they and Fray - and behind the scenes, Hayle - are preparing for their defection. I'm not sure what this means in practice, but probably they kill fewer rebellion doctors and arrange to get some of their support equipment captured.

Mary decides to force the issue with Sy a full arc early; thanks to Fray's example, she actually manages to corner him into admitting he likes her.

The nobles also have a lot more of a presence here than in canon; they're fundamentally battlefield commanders, socially, and the war arc is the obvious place to focus on them.

Arc 6 - Down to the Wire - Summer 1922

Mary is pregnant, Jamie is breaking down, it's time to go. The plan had been to fake their deaths in the field, but there isn't time for that anymore, and the backup plan is somewhat derailed by the revelation that Percy has been kidnapping babies to turn them into ninja prostitutes.

I'm not sure how this arc finishes in practice. The Lambs are more interested in killing Percy and shutting down the Ghosts than in tracking down Avis and blowing her cover, and they also want as many of Jamie's exobrains as they can escape with. Possibly they get separated? Possibly they have to fight a Noble or six on the way out.

Arc 7 - Skin of the Teeth - Summer 1922

Following directly from Arc Six, Radham mounts a chase to capture or destroy the Lambs. The Hangman gets deployed for this. There is a train battle.

I'm also not sure how exactly I want Jamie to work, which is probably one of the things I need to do a reread for.

Maybe there should be an interlude arc or something, to establish the new status quo? Fray's group has very little written about it, is the biggest problem.

Another big question is whether Fray tells the Lambs where little Nobles come from. Given that they were secretly built as next-gen prototype Nobles... maybe? I really need to think about their relationship in this thing.

Arc 8 - Born Unto Trouble - Spring 1923

Fray has followed through on her promise to make Evette, and successfully this time: Evette is a Primordial. Primordial-spawn, theoretically, but she hasn't actually given up her biogenesis powers, just her easy shapeshifting.

Mary's baby is due. Her name is Ruth, as an unsubtle hint about what will happen if anyone hurts her. (I don't know where I'm going with this. It just seems like the natural progression of Sy/Mary being a thing.)

Also, it's just about time for the canonical Brechwell Summit, which might be disrupted by the Lambs having acted differently in Whitney? Playing defense against the assassins sounds like fun, though, and Petey the bodypuppeting rapist baby is... personally a victim on par with the Heartbroken, and also a problem on par with the Heartbroken. Possibly we skip this one; it's the one time Wildbow actually squicked me out.

Also, this is about when Ashton gets decanted. There's a lot going on in this arc. I don't know if he actually gets involved yet?

I can't actually plan past this, since there are too many important unknowns (mostly who the heck Fray is as a character and how she relates to the Lambs). But I do have some neat arc titles and a plotline I very much want to see:

Arc... 9? - Birds of a Feather

Mary meets the Falconer, possibly after tracking her down specifically. The Rebellion becomes a full-on civil war.

Other arc titles: Bite the Bullet, Belly of the Beast, Elephant in the Room, Dog in the Manger, Body of Evidence.

Things to address: The Academy's insane scorched-earth tactics, the macroscale politics, possibly who made the Exorcist rifles.

Epilogue - A Hundred Years a Sheep

To be honest a lot of my vision for this story is directly because the arc naming scheme allows for some amazing wordplay, and inverting that Mussolini quote I learned about from a Tumblr recounting of a Twitter account tricking Donald Trump into quoting Mussolini definitely counts.

Thematically, though, it's got to be about prioritizing long life and happiness over ambition, and also a peek into the future of the setting. I like it. :)

[naoa-ao3]

Instrument of War

Frank Castle is old now and the streets of New York know when to be afraid. Petty criminals and the scum that run the streets know.

The crunch of his boots and the clink of his casings hitting the dirty pavements have become as regular as church bells but there's always more to clean up. The city's never clean and as the years roll past he wonders what will become of it after he's dead.

Men like him don't usually live this long.

Vietnam and all the shit before and all the shit after. . . men with his kind of anger and his kind of temper. . . but somehow he's still here. Everyone else is dead but he's still here and so each night he goes out and tries to reclaim a bit of the streets, tries to right the wrongs that have already passed.

He see's visions when he closes his eyes.

His wife.

HIs children.

Burned villages and dead men.

Blood on the streets and stars pinned to chests when they should be in the sky.

He's always been angry but he'd been normal once.

He'd had parents and some vague idea of what his life was supposed to be like.

The streets here are rotten though, the people unfriendly. They don't want to be saved and maybe they shouldn't be.

He'd once tried to be a priest.

Maybe if he'd stayed with it he could have saved someone but it hadn't been in him and he hadn't stayed.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

He unloads half a clip into a rapist and knows why he couldn't be a priest.

There are people that think the death penalty is wrong, people that want due process and a jury made of peers but he's looking at the woman on the ground, eyes wide and shocked, blood that isn't hers splattered across her face and blouse. Those people don't think about her.

She's blinking like she can't make out what she's looking at as she stares at him.

Where there is hatred let me sow love.

Only when he holds out a hand she screams and slaps it away. "Don't touch me!" She shouts, kicking backwards away from the dead body between them. "Don't fucking touch me! Help!"

He let's his hand fall.

Where there is offense, let me bring pardon.

"You should get to a hospital." He say's.

White fingers claw at her face, smearing her would be rapist's blood. "What have you done?" She chokes.

Relieved the streets of one less piece of shit.

"Oh God what have you done?" She has red stains over her face now, across her lips and cheeks.

Where there is discord, let me bring union.

She's in shock.

He doesn't blame her and so he leaves her there, not trying to save anyone. Just trying to make the streets better. Just trying to leave the world a little less shitty than when he came into it.

Where there is error, let me bring truth.

He stops at a pay phone and calls an ambulance.

They'll take care of her.

He hangs up when they ask for his name and walks on.

The rapist wasn't on his agenda but he always has room for one more and tonight he has a meeting.

A mob boss, lower level- ambitious but not important will be celebrating his birthday at a local pizzeria.

It's a front but it makes a good pie.

He might not have given two shits about such a low level but the bastard is ambitious and he has potential in spades. He'll do a lot worse than he already has and he already isn't innocent.

Twenty-three and he's had four men killed.

Where there is doubt, let me bring-

What does a city like this believe in any more? Gleaming glass and steal and dirty pavements. . .

He doesn't pretend he's saving anyone.

This is revenge and that's all it's ever been.

Where there is despair, let me bring-

He can't remember the words. Faith, hope, light, joy. . . he can't remember the words any more. They've fallen behind him like all of the bullet casings he leaves behind. Scattered and lost. Down alleyways and into storm drains and sewers.

Where there is darkness, let me bring -

Let me bring what?

He spots the mob boss from a roof top across the street, from a roof top across the street on his belly through the lens of a two year old scope.

The smug little fucker is laughing with someone.

Four men dead and he's laughing and eating like anyone else.

Where there is sadness-

Frank squeezes the trigger and the man drops, face first onto the table, shot straight through the chest.

The other men shout and Frank can't imagine pardon or understanding for them. Twenty-three years old and he'd made his choice.

He doesn't believe in rehabilitation.

Not in this city.

Not in this life time.

He packs up while they're scurrying around and is gone before they reach his roof. There will be no pardon tonight, not for any of them.

Frank's bones hurt more and more from this, his body doesn't like getting down on the ground any more.

He wonders how many years of this he has left.

How long until his vision and hearing and reflexes go and he's just another face, withered in a nursing home?

The dawn is coming and so he heads home, hearing some song he hasn't in decades and thinking of a time when people pushed flowers down the barrels of guns like it meant something. He knows now why he was never on the side of the flowers. Why he always held the gun.

He's lived long enough to know that he could never be an instrument of peace.

Not him, he never had it in him.

He's an instrument of war and it's too late to turn back now.

[self-loving-vampire]

My mother: El Mozote was actually massacred by communists to make the military look bad.

My mother: Roberto D'Aubuisson was actually a good guy and I used to hang out with him so I know everything about him being a death squad leader was made up by the communists.

Both parents: Maximiliano Hernandez Martinez is a misunderstood hero who protected the country and kept crime down. Maybe we should use his methods again.

Both parents: People who care about universal human rights instead of executing all the bad people immediately are just siding with rapists and murderers because they lack empathy for their victims. Once we manage to kill every single bad person everything will be good.

[moesartblog]

I'm still a sucker for fedvi all these years later. What's your AU about? It looks interesting

It's kinda funny to come across other people who liked fedvi bc it was already such a niche thing even at its height lol.

But also thank you for letting me open pandoras box on my silly au. The biggest departure from the source material is probably just that it was only Giovanni who was executed, and the focus for the "story" is how his death has rippling effects across the family, and how they learn to live beyond his death.

This is gonna be so fucking long so im sorry in advance. I'm supposed to be doing an exam right now lol

Maria who is grieving, and also having to take care of her 4 children on her own now, learning to lean on other people for help with this. I also had this idea for a convo between her, and vieri (after he killed his father) where she's trying to make sense of Giovanni's death, and vieri, while not on any good terms with the family, doesnt think Giovanni should have been killed in the way he was cus it just caused problems all across the board. I also wanted to let her old personality creep back in, cus she was so fun before the execution in the game. I'm also debating if I want an element of being worried about her kids getting so involved with the assassin stuff or not. I'm leaning towards not but idk.

Federico, who I feel like to some degree didn't want to feel a lot of responsibility as an oldest sibling, suddenly has to take up the mantle, his siblings are looking to him for some stability since he seemed so unbothered about things in the past (at least on the surface). Him and Ezio start to butt heads more, especially over rescuing vieri during a mission to kill francesco, only to find him already dead. Federico is trying to hold every string in the family together so they dont fall apart. His goal is to kinda re-find that relaxed feeling he had before. Still with responsibility, but with a balance of relaxation, and, again, leaning on other people to help.

Ezio was the one who did see his father killed first-hand. He becomes a lot more aggressive, and throws himself pretty immediately into the assassin stuff. I see his personality pretty similar to the game (AC2), where he's looking for revenge for his father, and it's taking a toll on his family relationships. He kinda grows the way he does in the games, but a little faster, where he learns the most important thing is appreciating who is here now.

Caludia i wanna develop more, but her thing is based on her situation in AC brotherhood, where she wants to be an assassin too. Federico, and Mario are on board, but Ezio is adamant about her not doing stuff like that. He's still viewing her as the sad little sister who had her heart broken, and doesn't want to see her hurt, but doesnt understand that she is as capable as any of them. She still needs training but she has all the potential the ezio or federico had at her age. She wants to establish herself more and help her family.

Petruccio is still somewhat young, and has a hard time trying to process all the sudden major life changes. His chronic illness keeps him doing any intense physical training, but he's not super interested in that aspect anyway. He's usually hanging out with his mother, but then he starts to observe Leonardo more and more, and leo starts mentoring him on various things like deciphering things and engineering. It works a lot better with managing his illness, and the topics are more engaging to him.

vieri i decided to do a kinda overhaul on his character (the original character is fun to hate and entertaining but I wanted to go a different direction with his character. also even back in the day, tangent, but I hated the brotherhood flashback with him where they made him basically a rapist in order to make ezios stalking seem less creepy than it was. I HATED the writing of that jesus christ.) He's still fairly arrogant when around his father, and still spends his dads money loosely. but he starts to question his fathers ideas for their family within the templars, and he gets retaliation from his father every time. after giovannis death, he has a deep moment of my father was wrong fer helping set it up that way. giovanni needed to die, but doing it so publicly made a lot of issues for the Pazzi house afterwards. So a fight starts and he kills francesco, and after is found by federico and ezio because of Viola, who were coming to kill francesco themselves. He's taken back and treated at the Villa Auditore, much to Ezio's chagrin. Vieri is kinda stuck in his enemies home and so he's irritable, and vulnerable, but it's an opportunity for better understanding between the two families. vieri is more contemplative now that his father isnt present to influence him. Eventually he decides to become an assassin. He has some chronic pain issues from his injuries.

Viola, i only have a bit at the moment, but she's always been kinda disobedient of her father. Their mother is not in the picture. She doesnt like her father, and butts heads with vieri because of that, but vieri and viola still love each other deep down. Vieri looked down on her for not trying to further the Pazzi house. She saved vieris life after he killed their father, and flagged down federico and ezio to take them back to the villa. beyond that ill have to think of stuff.

cristina i havent posted much but I have this whole thing. Her and ezio had a brief tryst, but i view her as a lesbian, and I think she just realized the sex and romance weren't doing anything for her. She still loves Ezio, just as a very close friend. She wanted to escape her fate of being married off, and so she asks ezio to help her become basically nobody, to pursue the life she wants. In an assassin trip to Venice, cristina comes along and meets Rosa and is almost immediately smitten.

Rosa I made into an intensely butch bisexual lol. She becomes friends with Ezio, and hooks up with him occasionally. He introduces her to cristina, and their energies match up really well and they become an item pretty quickly. I want to develop this relationship more bc this was something i was shipping while i was shipping fedvi but no one else really had any connection to it so i hardly posted it lol.

some last random notes:

-Ezio is still sleeping around, just also with men now. He's hooked up with cristina, leonardo, caterina, rosa, antonio, etc etc

-Rosa and federico become good friends and its a lot of teasing ezio

-Rosa flirts with Maria a lot, and it makes ezio panicky

-i definitely am going to revisit fedvi lol

-uhhh paola and maria occasionally sleep together, arguably in a relationship

That was so fucking long thank you for asking though! i needed to barf all this out

[graceful-starker]

Jailbroken Hearts Finale

Summary: some bits and pieces into Peter’s last eleven months in prison, and then a sort of epilogue.

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, rape, death, and murder. Also actual murder and death, blood, very mild because in Tony’s mind death is kinda boring at this point.

Notes: So all of the other parts were on my Tumblr that got deleted so I don’t have the link to them but here is ao3! This is one of those fics where the story was so hyped and so well received that I was scared of making the ending for fear of it being disappointing. But here it is!

As always, this can either be read as irondad/spiderson, or non-sexual starker. Completely up to you.

~~~

Peter feels a lot closer to Tony, after that night. The vulnerability and honesty is something he knows no one else has ever seen, not even Rhodey.

It’s a few weeks later, and the gang is hanging out at the usual table for breakfast. Clint yawns and takes a sip of his coffee, rubbing his eyes. “Who the hell was making all that noise last night?”

Steve smirks and laughs softly. “Guy named Quill, he got into it with a guard yesterday. Earned himself a beat down.”

Clint huffs in annoyance. “He needs to learn how to bite his tongue, or next time it’ll be two best downs.”

“New shipment in today,” Tony says, not listening to the gang. “I’ll bet everything I own Bucky is in this one.”

Steve perks up at that, starting to bounce his leg. “You really think so?”

Rhodey nods, taking a bite of his breakfast. “Yeah, he was sent to jail after the trial a week ago. Should be in this shipment.”

Steve looks like he’s on cloud nine, and Peter feels sort of floaty. This is his first time meeting new people as someone who’s been here a while. “I can’t wait to see him. You aren’t getting any sleep tonight either, Clint.”

Clint groans in annoyance, sipping more coffee. “You suck.”

“Yeah I do,” Steve teases with a wink, which makes Clint pretend to gag.

Rhodey looks up from his own breakfast, seeing people starting to file out early. “Show time.”

Tony closes his paper, looking around as well. “Alright. Clint, go scout. Come on Peter, let’s get you a good spot to look.”

Peter nods and stands up, stretching a bit. “Will Cap be with us?”

“Yep,” Steve says, following. Rhodey is taking over my usually position so I can watch him come in. Let’s go.”

They make their way to the best viewing spot, listening to people talk, speculate, and make bets. It takes a while for the new inmates to come, but the doors finally open the shouting starts.

Peter hides in Tony’s arms, feeling nervous with all the screaming and stomping. Tony merely shushes him, holding him close and glaring at the closest inmates.

Finally they start walking through, and Steve starts to yell once the third person comes through. “Bucky!” he yells, waving his arms.

Bucky looks up, searching the crowd until he finds Steve. A smirk graces his face, and he blows Steve a kiss.

Tony watches them file in, face expressionless. Peter goes back and forth between watching Tony’s face and the new inmates filing in.

Suddenly a man taps on Tony’s shoulder, and Peter feels his heart rate pick up. Tony turns to him, raising a brow.

“Mr. Stark,” the inmate asks, nodding politely. “That new one down there, the one with red hair and a long beard?” Tony narrows his eyes, but nods slowly. “I have a request.”

Tony huffs. “Get on with it.”

The man nods again, shifting his weight. “I know that rapists are usually your thing, but he...that man raped my daughter. I’m in here because I tried to kill him out there. He’s been in the hospital since I tried it, but obviously he’s good enough to get in here. My request is that I can finish the job myself.”

Tony looks down at the man, watching him. “You can have one chance. If he’s alive tomorrow still, I won’t give you a second try. Understood?”

The inmate nods, thanking Tony and stalking out of the entry hall.

“That was nice of you,” Peter manages to quake out. Talking about pre-planned murder still scares him.

Tony hums, pulling Peter closer to him and watching the inmates file in. “I know. You’ve made me soft,” he accuses in a whisper.

Peter giggles, starting to relax a bit. The new inmates are marched off to closed off rooms, where they will spend the rest of the day getting cleaned, getting new clothes, and being walked through the rules of the prison.

“Come on,” Steve says to them, nodding his head in the other direction. “Let’s go kill time while we wait.

After killing the entire day doing mostly nothing, they’re finally forced back into their cells for the night. Steve and Bucky share a cell, and they do, in fact, keep the entire prison up all night with their reunion.

They were so loud, that the guards didn’t notice the screams of pain and fear coming from the red-haired new inmate’s cell.

~

Peter bounces excitedly next to Tony, ignoring the looks he gets from Bucky. Bucky is nice and all, but he has very little patience.

“Okay kid, what the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky finally asks.

Tony glares at Bucky, and Steve elbows his lover. “Never do that again,” Steve hisses under his breath.

Peter doesn’t let it bother him though. “It’s visitation day,” he says happily. “And Tony agreed to meet May with me today.”

Rhodey groans in annoyance. “I can’t convince you to meet Pepper in years, but two months with Peter and you cave to meet his aunt?”

Tony glares at Rhodey over Peter’s head. “His aunt doesn’t want to bring my family up to me, or give me anything.”

Rhodey tsks and rolls his eyes. “She gives you things anyway, you know.”

“I’ll never see it, doesn’t matter.” Tony shrugs again.

“My kids are coming,” Clint says to change the subject. “Finally.”

Bucky hums and gives Steve a look. “You don’t have any visitors this month.”

“I have a visitor that never leaves,” Steve corrects, kissing Bucky softly on the lips.

“Let’s go ladies,” the guard calls. “Cells or visiting area, you know the drill.”

Peter beams and grabs Tony’s hand, rushing them to the visiting areas. Tony doesn’t usually walk that fast, but he only grumbles his complaints instead of stopping Peter.

“Parker,” a guard calls. “Visitor.”

Peter happily goes to the assigned room, and squeals when he sees May. “May!” he calls, sitting and pulling the phone to his face.

“Hi...who’s that?” May asks, pointing to Tony. Tony waves at her, and Peter moves the phone so they can both hear.

“This is Tony Stark,” Peter says, leaning into the older man. “He’s my cellmate. He takes care of me and stuff.”

“I just-” Tony looks down at the phone. He’s never used one of these before. “I just make sure other inmates don’t give him sh-any problems.”

May narrows her eyes at him, pursing his lips. “Ahuh. Peter listen, I’m working on saving up extra money-”

“No, May. It’s isn’t worth it. I can’t go to college anymore.”

“You will go to college!” May yells, getting emotional. “You’re too smart not to.”

Tony lights up at this. “You can’t afford college?” he asks. “I have money.”

May narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t want illegal money.”

“It’s legal,” Tony says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Inheritance. Plus, my parents’ company is in my name, even if I can’t run it. You ever heard of Stark Industries?”

May suddenly pales, putting her hand on the glass. “You’re the Tony Stark that brutally murdered his father.”

“That isn’t the whole story, May. You only know what the media says-”

“I saw the video!” She yells, looking over her shoulder. “You-”

“May!” Peter yells, upset. “He’s not a cold-blooded murderer. Am I a murderer?”

May scoffs and shakes her head. “That was different.”

“It’s not.” Peter says. “It isn’t different. You have to trust me on this. I trust Tony, and you trust me. Right?” May is still for a long time, but the guard reminds her she doesn’t have much longer, and she finally nods. “Then trust him.”

May purses her lips. “Why would you give me money?” she asks Tony.

“I don’t have any use for it, and I like your nephew.” Tony shrugs, looking at Peter. “I’ll gladly give it all to you, honestly. I’m not planning on leaving here, and it’s better with you than rotting in a useless bank account.”

May looks on the verge of tears. “How can you trust him?”

Peter smiles at Tony leaning into him a bit more before looking back at May. “It’s not my place to tell you. But I do.”

May stands, still holding the phone. “I’ll be back next month. I want a better explanation than this time. I love you Peter, I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too, May.”

~

Peter jumps as Bucky slams his fist on the table, effectively cutting off Clint’s lecture. “I god damn know how to be quiet, asshole, I was a sniper before I was an assassin. Teach me the layout of the vents and which guards take bribes, skip the basics.”

Steve chuckles softly, rubbing soothing circles into Bucky’s thigh.

Clint huffs in annoyance. “I’m not doubting your experience, I was just saying...” he rolls his eyes and starts grumbling to himself.

Tony turns the page in his paper, taking a sip of his coffee. “Learn to take orders when given by higher ups Barnes, or this won’t work out.”

Peter notices Steve stiffen, even though Bucky merely scoffs. “Bird brains here isn’t a higher up, boss. He’s the guy I’m replacing.”

“Watch your mouth before I watch it for you,” Clint grunts, hands tightening into fists. He’s still pissed at how often Bucky’s arrival keeps the whole prison up.

“Cool it, Clint,” Steve warns, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.

“You’re gonna lengthen your sentence if you fight, Mr. Clint sir,” Peter pipes up, face pink from the anxiety.

The two assassins stare each other down for a minute more, before Clint scoffs and stands up, pushing his tray towards Peter. “Here kid, I’m not hungry anymore.”

Peter watches him storm off before turning his gaze to pout at Bucky. “You know, you don’t have to mean. We’re on the same team here.”

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes and planting a hand on the table. “We aren’t shit, pipsqueak. You can’t-” he cuts off with a hiss as a knife suddenly finds its way in between his middle and ring fingers.

“If you can’t learn your fucking place, Barnes, your place will be six feet under. Do I make myself crystal clear?” Tony’s paper rests on the table beside him, his hand gripping the handle of the knife tightly.

“He was just joking around, Tones, it’s okay. He won’t say another words about Peter. Right baby?” Steve says, one hand on Bucky’s chest to keep him back and his tone sharp.

Bucky is silent for a few seconds as he stares Tony down, jaw set angrily. Eventually, he slowly removes his hand from the table and nods once. “Right.”

Tony sniffs in indifference, hiding the knife back up his sleeve and grabbing his coffee again. “You said he wouldn’t cause problems, Cap.”

“He won’t anymore,” Steve says, a sharp edge to his voice as he side-eyes Bucky. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good,” Tony says, opening his paper again. “Finding one replacement is hard enough, I’d hate to have to find two.”

“Understood, boss,” Steve says lowly, standing up. “Buck, a word,” he says with air of finality, walking away without waiting for his lover.

Bucky doesn't keep him waiting long, glaring daggers into Tony’s forehead before following silently.

Peter sniffles once, leaning into Tony. “I’m sorry I’m causing problems.”

Rhodey laughs softly, the first noise he’s made this entire time. “Oh kid, you aren’t causing problems. Robo-cop is.”

Tony nods in agreement, pushing Clint’s tray towards Peter. “He’s right. Eat.”

Peter sighs sadly but obeys, starting with Clint’s roll.

~

Peter beams at May through the glass, picking up the phone and waving. “Heya May! How have you been?”

May is frowning, looking at Peter with suspicion. “The day after our last visit, ten million dollars appeared in my bank account.”

Peter gasps, feeling light headed. “Oh my god, that’s more than we could ever-”

“Where the hell did he get this money from? How did he get it to if he can’t access the accounts in his name?”

Peter sighs, feeling slightly frustrated. “Pepper Potts is the CEO of SI right now, she took over a few years ago. Tony signed papers to give her access to his accounts, so she sends him money from the business because she feels like she owes him. It’s all his money, all legally obtained, and all legally given to you.”

May shakes her head in disbelief. “What did you do, Peter?! What did you do to convince him to give you this money?”

Peter smiles sadly. “You don’t want to know, May. I didn’t do anything against my morals, don’t worry.”

“You can’t sleep with a murderer, Peter,” May hisses into the phone, tears in her eyes.

“It isn’t like that,” Peter promises, sighing. “Honestly May, it isn’t. We don’t want to sleep together. I mean, we share a cell, but that’s--that’s innocent. You could be there and I wouldn’t be embarrassed, I swear.” May shakes her head, lips tightening into a grimace. “Then what did you do?”

“You don’t need to know, and you don’t want to know. I didn’t do anything bad, nothing illegal. He just likes me, May. You don’t have to worry about the money. Get us a nice house, get a new car, get other things you’ve been wanting. The money is good and you don’t need to feel bad about having it.”

May sighs in disbelief, but decides that Peter wouldn’t lie to her. “Fine. God, I can’t wait to get you out of there and give you a giant hug.”

Peter grins, leaning back into his chair. “Me too, May.”

~

Tony sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Only six more months with you, Pete. I only have six more months. Do we really have to talk about this now?”

Peter pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna visit you all the time Tony, don’t say it’s only six months.”

Tony grunts. “It’s basically six months. You’ll visit once a month for a while, and then you’ll forget all about me.”

Peter makes a wounded noise, wrapping his arms around Tony’s torso and hugging him tightly. “Don’t say that. I love you, I’m not just going to forget you.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but hugs Peter back. “You will. What use do you have for an old, lonely, felon locked away fro the rest of his life?”

Peter hugs harder, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter what use you are, first of all. Love doesn’t mean need.”

“You have your aunt May.”

“That doesn’t mean if I have her I suddenly don’t have you.” He pulls back, looking up at Tony with teary eyes. “I won’t ever forget about you. Not ever. You’re stuck with me until the end of time, okay?”

Tony grins down at Peter fondly, ruffling his hair. “Okay.” He agrees eventually.

Peter gives him a small smile in return and kisses Tony’s cheek, pulling away finally and wiping his eyes. “So...what do you think then?”

Tony sighs. “I don’t want you to appeal, if I’m being honest. Even if you plan on visiting me forever, I still don’t want you to go. I know it’s selfish, but that’s what I think.”

Peter node sadly and kisses Tony’s chin before going back to their bed. “Then I’ll tell May to be patient. End of discussion.”

“no, wait....” Tony sighs and follows the boy. “You asked what I thought about it, not what you should do. You should get out of here, go live your life. Go to college and get a house and so on.”

“I can wait,” Peter says. Then he shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep.

Tony only sighs loudly and crawls into bed as well, kissing Peter’s hair before he settles down. “Little shit,” he accuses, which makes the ‘sleeping’ boy grin cheekily.

~

Peter hums as he looks at the houses in front of him, going back and forth between the images. “Hmmm...I like the one on the right, it’s beautiful.”

May nods, turning the picture to look at it herself. “I agree...but Peter, do we really need a house this big? It’s just the two of us, and when you move out it’ll be just me...”

Peter grins, a grin May knows very well means Peter is planning something May wouldn’t approve of. “It’s the perfect size, May. And this one is for me, I want you to have your own house.”

“Peter!” May gasps, eyes wide. “What do you mean this is just for you? Why on earth would you need a house this big by yourself?”

“And I think you should hire a maid and a chef in your house too, you know, you always do everything. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

May shakes her head, leaning back in her chair. “How much money are you planning to give me here, kid? These types of things are expensive, and-”

“As much as you need, May. Tony is a billionaire, and he got together with Pepper last week in order to make me his official heir. All of his money is mine when I get out of here, and he’s a billionaire. We wouldn’t be able to spend all his money in a hundred lifetimes.”

“Peter...” May has tears in her eyes. “Why would he-”

“He loves me. And you love me. He wants both of us to be happy.”

May sniffles, dabbing at her eyes. “Well then...I better start researching how to be rich, I guess.”

Peter smiles, a genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes. “Tony says all his mother ever did was host charity galas and manage their public image. We don’t have a public image, so I guess you better start learning how to throw charity galas.”

May smiles sadly at him, nodding. “My first one is going to be a fundraiser for the public defenders’ office. That way no other innocent little kids get thrown in jail unjustly.”

Peter beams at her, tapping his knuckles against the counter. “Sounds great, May.”

~

Peter wakes up giggling, scrunching his nose as he feels the kisses against his eyelids. “Tones?”

Tony chuckles deeply, pulling back and letting the boy sit up. “Morning sleepy-head. How did you sleep?”

Peter yawns and stretches, looking around the cell. ‘Good. What’s going on, the lights are still out?”

Tony smiles, shifting on the bed and pulling a small box out from behind his back. “Happy birthday, kid. It’s midnight.”

Peter gasps, taking the box. “What? How did you-where did you- wait, how did you know it was my birthday?”

Tony smirks, leaning back on an elbow. “I know everything. Open it.”

Peter laughs softly at the bossy nature, opening it quickly. He gasps when he sees it, taking it out of the box and looking between the gift and Tony in surprise. “I...what...I...”

“You’re almost out of here, kid, and it got me thinking...I don’t want to only see you once a month. I...I can’t see you only once a month. So I talked to Pepper, had her design team create something for me. So this is a prototype.”

Peter feels tears in his eyes, looking up at Tony’s face. “So this...this will...what does it do?”

“Once it’s working correctly, yes. You put it on the floor, turn it on, and wait. Once it’s on, it’ll start to vibrate the other one, so we’ll know the other wants to talk. Then once they’re both on, we’ll see each other very clearly.” Tony smiles and takes Peter’s hand. “It isn’t perfect or anything, but hopefully it’ll let me see you more than once a month. Maybe even once a day.”

Peter hurls himself into Tony’s lap, hugging him tightly and crying into his shoulder. Tony wraps his arms around Peter, hiding his face in Peter’s hair. “Oh, Tony! Thank you, thank you!”

Tony smiles into Peter’s hair sadly, kissing where he can. “Of course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

~

Rhodey sighs, slamming his cards on the table. “I liked Clint way better than you, soldier, he sucked at poker.”

Bucky grins, pulling his winnings closer to him. “My secret is I always look like I want to murder you. You can’t tell what’s in my hand anymore than you could against a computer.”

Steve chuckles, grabbing the cards and starting to shuffle them. “Clint had no poker face, I don’t know how he works with Nat without annoying her to death.”

Peter giggles at the image of Natasha and Clint on a mission, with Natasha being stone faced and cool while Clint is annoying her with faces of concentration and effort.

“Stop talking about me like I’m gone,” Clint sighs in annoyance. “I still have a minimum of nine months in here.”

“Did you hear that? I swear, I just heard Barton’s voice,” Steve chimes in, starting to deal for the next round.

Peter giggles again, leaning into Tony and grabbing his cards. “You think you’ll make it to the graduation?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint says, smiling as he rearranges his cards. He ignores as Rhodey groans loudly and folds his cards before they start even playing because of his obvious smugness. “I bribed the warden to give me a recommendation for parole, I’m not spending another two years in here.”

Peter turns to look at Tony, eyes sparkling. The older man doesn’t know what the look is for, and at this point, he knows better than to ask.

~

Peter sits down happily and starts to bounce his leg, grinning at his stablemates. “Morning!”

“Ah,” Clint grunts, rubbing his head. “Shhh, it’s too early.”

Steve laughs softly. “You’re just pissed several inmates got lucky last night.”

“I’m pissed because everyone decided sleep isn’t important anymore.”

Tony takes that moment to sit next to Peter, putting one tray of food in front of himself and one in front of Peter. “Well stop being pissed, today is not your day to be pissed.”

Clint makes a confused sound, before he suddenly straightens up and smiles at Peter. “Hey, today is the day you’re free! Shit, I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since you got here.”

Tony grunts, aggressively opening his paper.

Peter ignores him, nodding at Clint. “They’re taking me out front at noon, May is picking me up. I get to go home!”

Rhodey pats Peter on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Congrats man, make sure you come back to visit us.”

“Every month,” Peter promises, surprising the group. They thought Peter would want to forget about his time in prison as soon as possible. “C’mon, I wanna play one more game of go-fish before I have to go.”

“I’m really gonna miss you, kid,” Steve says, a sad smile on his face. “I don’t think anyone else in the world could have convinced a bunch of murderers to play go-fish over poker.”

Bucky hums, pulling out his cards. “You made me like you in less than six months, that’s a record for me for sure.”

Rhodey nods, taking the cards and starting to deal. “Yeah kid, we’ll all miss you.”

Peter blushes a bit but he can’t stop smiling. He’s finally going to get to hug Aunt May again!

~~~

Peter runs to the phone as soon as they let him, picking it up with a big smile. “Tony!”

Tony chuckles, the same sad glint in his eyes he always has. It’s been a year since Peter was released, and a lot has happened since then. Clint was released and he’s back at it with Natasha and his family. Rhodey gave pepper a design that was so successful she's only allowed to sell it to the United States military. Steve and Bucky have gotten along perfectly, making the prison business they have going even more successful. Peter has started college, Ivy League, majoring in robotics engineering.

According to Tony, not much has happened with him. But, according to Peter, this year has been very eventful for Tony.

Without telling Tony, Peter has been working very hard to get Tony out. He wasn’t able to completely free Tony, of course, but with the money he got from Tony has come in very handy. He blew through an entire half a billion dollars, but he eventually got something close to what he wanted.

“Peter? You okay there?”

Peter nods quickly, literally bouncing in excitement. “I have the best news ever, Tony.”

The older man grins, but he still has that sad look in his eyes. “I told you kid, getting an A is not the best news ever. It’s expected from someone as smart as you are.”

Peter giggles but shakes his head. “No, it isn’t that. Tony, I got you out.”

Tony literally drops the phone, and has to scramble to grab it again. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Peter beams and shows Tony some paperwork. “All you have to do is sign, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll be under house arrest, with a very nice man checking in on us once every day and once every night. You’ll have an ankle tracker on, and you won’t be allowed to leave the house. But you’ll be living with me, and you’ll be out of prison, and you'll see me every day! And not just that wonderful hologram you invented; I can hug you and hold your hand and...and...” Peter’s smile falters and he his voice trails off. “Tony?”

Tony is staring at Peter with a blank expression, holding the phone so tightly his knuckles are white.

Peter stutters a little, feeling like his heart dropped into his stomach. “I-I mean, you don’t have to sign it. You don’t-you don’t have to come live with me. I mean, I just--I thought you would like to...I thought, I mean you said you missed me and you didn’t want to not see me, so I just thought you...” Peter feels tears start to form in his eyes. “Never-never mind, I thought you--no, I mean, obviously you want to stay in there. You said that, I should have--I overst- I-I should go, actually, I have to visit, um, Rhodey, because he um, he-”

“Peter Benjamin Parker.” Tony interrupts, and it startles Peter into silence. “You spent the entire last year planning on how to get me out of my prison behind my back?”

Peter’s lower lip trembles, and he nods once. “I’m sorry, I thought you might be happy.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath, and Peter is surprised to see tears in his eyes for only the second time in Tony’s adult life. “Nobody in my entire life has ever cared so much about me that they-” his voice breaks, and he starts to shake his head. He slams the phone onto the receiver and goes away from where Peter can see.

Peter feels the tears start to fall down his cheek and he gently hangs up his own phone. He sniffles sadly, grabbing the papers and standing up. He’s about to throw them in the trash when a door suddenly bursts open, startling the boy.

Tony is suddenly there, eyes wet and arms open wide. Peter doesn’t really understand what’s happening until Tony’s arms are around him. “Take me home.”

Peter’s eyes widen into the hug, whimpering softly. “You...you do want to come live with me?”

Tony nods, pulling back and looking at Peter with so much emotion and awe that Peter is overwhelmed. “Peter...” Tony takes a step back, obviously trying to gather himself. “When I first got into prison, I thought I wasn’t ever going to get out. And honestly, I wanted that. I wanted to grow old here, die here, die knowing that I took out as many child rapists as I could. Knowing I made the world a better place, one scum removal at a time.

“But you...you came into my life and I...I just...Something changed in me. I wasn’t burning all the time, I wasn’t dying anymore. I wasn’t staying alive so that I could do my duty; no, when you moved into my cell, I realized I was staying alive so I could see you every day. So I could protect you, and spend time with you and talk to you. And once you were freed, it just made it even more obvious to me that...that I don’t want my old life anymore. The only thing I want is to stay with you, and have you in my life.”

Peter feels so overwhelmed with the confession, he simply hugs Tony and tightly as he can and refuses to let go. “Tony...Come on. Let’s go. Let’s go home.”

[theestervashti]

"The Impale." From Esther 7: 8-10.

Haman, a populist, has been condemned to death by Xerxes, the King of Persia, whose name means "science without mothballs."

Haman incited a genocide against the Jewish people and it was a close call except the god of resistance to oppression, Marduk, called Mordecai, a Jewish ally from Babylon, and his friend goddess Esther rally to their side, and the King chooses to listen to them instead of popular opinion.

Haman's fall from grace represents the transition between ritual impurity to ritual purity. Ritual purity does not mean we wash our hands repeatedly after masturbating, it means one's habits do not incur trouble. The more troubled a person or culture is, the less pure it is. If one finds oneself cleaning messes up all the time, one is not being clean enough.

One should not seek improvement at mess making but at prevention altogether. This is the theme with civil rights and human equity, one which we do not seem to want to become acclimated. When human rights are violated people fight, and when they fight they break things. It is best not to fight and that means the reasons not to fight must be better than the opposite. But if a fight is needed, one must fight to win; fighting to lose makes one and one's countrymen ritually impure.

The Ukrainians and people of Israel must therefore win their wars, castrate their enemies, plunder their territory and make it their own, or they have not fought the way the Torah instructs, one designed to protect the innocent for their entire lives. The righteous are expected to give them all the help they need. The wicked must fall from grace, the wise must be lauded, that is how the real world works.

NOW I have been insistent that the White House stand up like a man in front of the world and impale Donald Trump and his Party and publicly declare they will be no more, and provide a detailed plan for the end of the threats of Russia, Iran, and the rest to the world. Joe Biden has been a skunk, very afraid to use the might and right of the US Military to save lives - those abroad and our own- and this is not proper. He has not conquered his enemies, he has not changed their ways and we are all shitting broken glass and razor blades waiting to see who is going to die next.

The Torah and this frame are clear: there must be a clear propaganda and effective actions taken against our rapist ex-president all the dictators on this planet or we are going to have to have this conversation about saving lives again. Even the very words that caused loss of life and those who spoke them have to be routed and choked off:

"The verb תלה (tala) also means to hang or display conspicuously and occurs all over the Semitic language spectrum. It's used for totems and regalia (Isaiah 22:24), common use vessels (Ezekiel 15:3), protective or ornamental armor (Song of Solomon 4:4, Ezekiel 27:10), harps on willows (Psalm 137:2) or the earth on nothing (Job 26:7).

But our verb is also quite often used for people who found themselves accursed, subsequently executed and finally publicly displayed (2 Samuel 21:12, Joshua 8:29, 10:26).

This display occurred mostly on trees since trees are excellent natural bill boards, which led to the general rule that whoever hung on a tree probably did that because he was accursed (Deuteronomy 21:22-23, Galatians 3:13; and "cursed who hangs on a tree" has nothing to do with the tree or with any magical or imprecatory powers attributed to the tree; hanging from a tree was the result of being accursed, not the cause of it).

Execution by hanging does not seem to have happened in the Hebrew world, but it did in Egypt (Genesis 40:22), Persia (Esther 2:23) and the Roman empire (Matthew 27:35). This old world hanging was usually a form of impalement and was not designed to break one's neck or choke one to death relatively speedily but rather to torture and display the victim at length as a deterrent. The Babylonians appear to have hung people by their hands, which would lead to death by asphyxia, as does crucifixion (Lamentations 5:12).

The only Biblical character who was clearly first hanged (or rather: hung) and then killed was Absalom, the son of king David (2 Samuel 18:9), but his hanging was accidental and not part of a deliberate procedure. It was, nevertheless, a fully functioning sign of disgrace, which would probably translate to modern imagery as some bad guy being killed while sitting on the toilet."

In other words we need Harbona "scorching heat" of a different kind in our lives:

8 Just as the king returned from the palace garden to the banquet hall, Haman was falling on the couch where Esther was reclining.

The king exclaimed, “Will he even molest the queen while she is with me in the house?”

As soon as the word left the king’s mouth, they covered Haman’s face. 

9 Then Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, said, “A pole reaching to a height of fifty cubits[b] stands by Haman’s house. He had it set up for Mordecai, who spoke up to help the king.”

The king said, “Impale him on it!”

10 So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai. Then the king’s fury subsided.

I have said men are beliefs, women are behaviors. This frame more than the others explains how we are to speak about tyrants and dictators and what we are supposed to actually do about them.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 8: They covered Haman's face. "They recounted all he had done wrong." The Number is 12328, יבלבח‎‎, yavalbah, "I will confound, confuse, mix up."

=

"I will make the gait steady."

The king was not about to let a molester get near the Queen's bed, that would have been a mistake. So he interfered with the populist's plans to once again stage a coup on the royal palace. How positively prophetic.

v. 9: A pole stands! Men are supposed to be noble. The wicked to them must not compare. I never ever thought I would see a day when the American people would attempt to put a dullard and a convicted felon, a murderer, back into the White House to proclaim an agenda of overpopulation was in our future, and we accepted it. Then he and his friends excavated underneath the soil of Jerusalem so they could attack it and pray to Jesus Christ. And we are looking the other way.

This, oh this, Mister Joe Biden this cannot stand.

The Number is 7420, ז‎דבאֶפֶס, "A party in the pass."

While that sounds like a hoot, the word pass means trouble passes by. God says the best way to hurry it along is in the following passage from Betukochai:

"3 “‘If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, 4 I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit. 5 Your threshing will continue until grape harvest and the grape harvest will continue until planting, and you will eat all the food you want and live in safety in your land.

6 “‘I will grant peace in the land, and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid. I will remove wild beasts from the land, and the sword will not pass through your country. 7 You will pursue your enemies, and they will fall by the sword before you. 8 Five of you will chase a hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will fall by the sword before you.

9 “‘I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers, and I will keep my covenant with you. 10 You will still be eating last year’s harvest when you will have to move it out to make room for the new. 11 I will put my dwelling place[a] among you, and I will not abhor you. 12 I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people. 

13 I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt so that you would no longer be slaves to the Egyptians; I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with heads held high."

v. 10:  So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai. Then the king’s fury subsided. The Number is 3511, גהאא‎, "the medicine, the remedy."

So long as we are all angry, we must put it to good use. Then Joe Biden has to tell the TV set it's over and it's not coming back.

[tfgadgets]

Bengal Will Make Death Penalty Mandatory For Rapists: Mamata Banerjee

Kolkata: West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, under massive pressure from the Opposition since the rape-murder of a young doctor in Kolkata — has declared that she would change the laws in the state to make death penalty mandatory for rape. The amendment will be passed by the state assembly next week. There should only be one punishment for rape — hanging, hanging, hanging,” she said amid…

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

July 23, 2024

TURN DOWN THE HEATED RHETORIC, YOU BITCHES

Mean words are mean! Mean words can hurt people. Someone might even get shot in the ear. So say Republicans from House Speaker Mike Johnson to Utah Rep. Burgess Owens in the wake of the attempted assassination of Donald “Hang 'Em High” Trump. In his nomination speech, Trump sought to bring the country together by saying he would be president of all Americans not just the half that aren't stupid sonsofbitches. “The discord and division in our society must be healed,” he told the jubilant convention crowd. “In that spirit, the Democrat party should immediately stop weaponizing the justice system and labeling their political opponent as an enemy of democracy... In fact, I am the one saving democracy (from them stinking liberals).” Republicans followed suit. Georgia Rep. Mike Collins said President Joe Biden, himself, ordered the hit on Trump. Tennessee Sen. Marsha Blackburn said,"Just days ago, Biden said 'it's time to put Trump in a bullseye'.” That's just not nice. And it's much different than when Trump said Gen. Mark Milley, the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, deserved to face the death penalty. Or in California, when he called for shoplifters to be shot on sight. Or when he continues to label immigrants as rapists and murderers. That's just, you know, politics.

DEVINE PLAN FOR REVITALIZED DOWNTOWN SALT LAKE CITY

Hey Wilson, did you know that Mormon Church founder Joseph Smith drew up the plans for Salt Lake City before he was killed in 1844 by a mob in Carthage, Ill. So when Brigham Young and the faithful arrived at “this is the place,” they laid out the city according to their prophet's plan. It's all true. So get this: a dude named Ryan Smith showed up recently with billions of dollars and a plan to makeover 100 acres of downtown around the Delta Center. Some people say it's no coincidence that Joseph and Ryan have the same last name. Some have even offered that Ryan is Joseph's reincarnation but was unable to bring back more than one wife. So anyway, like Joseph, Ryan has a master plan and he's asking doubters and Salt Lake City planners to have faith, although he didn't specifically mention “The Book of Mormon.” And he does have some converts, like Mayor Erin Mendenhall and the City Council, who have given the green light to Zion 2.0. Some of the details remain a little fuzzy, like the height of the buildings, if 300 West will go underground, if bicycles will be allowed, and weather there will be connectivity to the rest of downtown so surrounding businesses won't go belly-up. You know, little things like that. But not to worry. Just have faith.

'FOLK HERO' PHIL LYMAN: GOV. COX STOLE THE ELECTION!

Here we go again. Stop the steal! San Juan County's rough rider and defeated gubernatorial candidate Phil Lyman is not calling it quits despite losing the Republican primary election to Gov. Spencer Cox in a blowout. Sound familiar? In contrast, Lyman gave Cox a drubbing to get on the ballot at the MAGA-flavored state GOP convention where the governor was booed like a Democrat. Lyman became a rural hero in 2014 when he organized an ATV protest ride in Recapture Canyon, which was closed to motorized vehicles to protect cultural artifacts. He was convicted of trespassing, but later was pardoned by then-President Donald Trump. Let freedom ring! Lyman thinks Cox pulled a fast one when he somehow got 28,006 signatures of registered Republicans in order to get on the primary ballot. Bogus signatures would leave Cox off the ballot, Lyman says, but state election officials won't let him inspect Cox's petition. Deep State conspiracy! As a legislator and former county commissioner Lyman has more experience than vice presidential nominee J.D. Vance. Too bad Lyman lacks the billionaire buddies that got Vance where he is. Word of advice: Phil, better get some rich friends.

Post script — That's gunna do it for one heck of a historic week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of assassination attempts and instant karma so you don't have to. Talk about a close one. Only an inch separated Donald Trump from an early exit. History was made and yet it wasn't. One inch could have meant the GOP would be without a standard bearer' taking the pressure off Joe Biden to step aside. But the bullet missed, Trump is riding high, and it is Joe Biden riding into the sunset. In a rally after his nomination was cemented, Trumps said this: “I took a bullet for democracy.” If that isn't a conversation stopper, we don't know what is. Football season can't come fast enough. Speaking of football (clever segue), University of Utah football coach Kyle Whittingham will make $6.25 million this year. You're right Wilson, most of us won't make that much in a lifetime. But wait, there's more. Upon retirement Whittingham will receive a one-time lump sum of about $5 million. Also after retirement as part of his contract he will serve as a special assistant to the athletic director for $995,000 a year for five years. Holy smokes. You'd never guess, but Whittingham is the highest paid state employee. By contrast, Gov. Spencer Cox earns $213,430. It's a mad, mad, mad world.

Well Wilson, the staff here at Smart Bomb is a bit unsettled — too much history, too fast. We just get used to one reality and then Wham! The guys in the band are used to shifting sands, so, Wilson, dig something out of your play book that will give us a dose of sanity and some perspective. OK, hit it:

To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose under heaven A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose under heaven A time to build up, a time to break down A time to dance, a time to mourn A time to cast away stones A time to gather stones together To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose under heaven A time of love, a time of hate A time of war, a time of peace A time you may embrace A time to refrain from embracing To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose under heaven A time to gain, a time to lose A time to rend, a time to sew A time for love, a time for hate A time for peace, I swear it's not too late!

(Turn, Turn, Turn — The Byrds)