#i still understand it its just worse than its supposed to be.. as a native speaker... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jetii · 8 months ago

Text

By Your Name

Part Two

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 11,228/19,226

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, unrequited feelings, love confessions, some kissing and heavy petting, smut in part 2

Summary: Ever since you were assigned to the squad, Wrecker has delighted in calling you pet names in Mando'a — an'edee, cyar'ika, mesh'la, the list goes on. Little does he know, you understand every single one of them, and it's starting to become a problem.

A/N: I wrote this months ago and got around to editing it recently and whoa, was not prepared for the sad. Sorry about that! This is mostly self-contained to part one, with part two being purely a smut add-on for my own amusement. I'll post that next week.

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You hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop face down in the dirt, your whole body aching. The ringing in your ears slowly subsides, and the sounds of battle come back in bits and pieces. The roar of blasterfire, the clatter of droids and metal feet, and crunch of tanks rolling over rubble. You groan and turn yourself over onto your back, coughing and trying to get the taste of dirt out of your mouth, just in time to see a droid bearing down on you, cannon aimed.

You try to move, but you’re completely winded. Your lightsaber was thrown from your grasp when you were sent flying, and it lay several feet away, taunting you with the idea of your own survival. You close your eyes and prepare for the worst, waiting for the searing pain of a laser bolt tearing through you

There’s the sound of metal tearing as a large hand grips the droid’s head and rips it clean off its neck, and your eyes fly open as the metal body falls to the ground in a clatter of lifeless metal, its head still in the hands of your savior.

You look up and meet Wrecker’s eyes, and he pushes his helmet up with the back of his hand to offer you a toothy grin, the droid head held aloft in the other. The relief at seeing him alive and well washes over you like a tide, and you can only manage a weak smile back, your ribs smarting from the impact of your fall.

"That was a close one!" he says, tossing the head away like a child throwing a ball for a dog. It pings off the chest of a droid advancing on the pair of you, sending the metal soldier careening backwards.

"A little too close for my liking," you wheeze, and you take his offered hand. Wrecker pulls you to your feet with ease, the motion tugging you close to his chest, and his arm wraps around you to steady you.

“You okay, cyar’ika?” he shouts over the sound of another tank exploding, a cloud of debris flying up and raining down around you in a shower of dust and smoke. You nod, the movement stiff and stilted, and you pray he doesn’t notice the flush on your cheeks at the use of that Mando'a word.

And that's the problem, isn't it? Cyar’ika, sarad, mesh’la, all the words he said to you in his native tongue, thinking you wouldn't know the difference. It made your heart race and your head spin, and the fact that you understood exactly what they meant only made it worse. It was like a secret between you two, one you weren't supposed to know.

The words made your heart do cartwheels, but the tone he said them in?

That was what was really going to kill you.

The soft way he said the words, the gentle, affectionate way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his hand seemed to linger on your shoulder after pulling you back up from a fall, the way his smile made your knees weak... It all came together to paint a picture of how Wrecker felt. It was a picture that made your face feel warm and your throat dry, and it was one that was starting to drive you crazy.

It also drove you to distraction, so much so that you hadn't even noticed the AAT firing at you until you were flying through the air.

And now you're here, in Wrecker's arms, your heart beating fast for more than one reason. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping back, Wrecker's arm falling reluctantly from around your shoulders, and you give him a grin that's a little stronger this time.

"I'm alright, thank you!" you shout back. "We need to stop that tank!"

Wrecker nods, and the two of you turn to face the massive tank, which was slowly making its way through the city, demolishing everything in its path. The cannons swivel back and forth, destroying a building to your right, then to the left, then forward.

You call your lightsaber back into your hand, and it flies past Wrecker's head into your awaiting palm. You ignite the blade and glance at him, and he grins and cracks his knuckles before slamming his helmet back onto his head.

"Ready, cyare?"

Your breath catches in your throat. It wasn't the word you thought he'd use, but the endearment has the same effect. He doesn't seem to realize what he's said, and you decide not to bring it up.

You can think about it later. For now, you had a droid army to stop.

"Ready," you murmur.

Wrecker holds his hand out to the side, bowing his head in a courtly gesture. "After you."

You roll your eyes and step past him, and you feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck.

"Keep up, then."

It doesn’t get any easier.

You try your best not to let it affect your performance. You focus on the missions, on keeping your men safe, but Wrecker is always there, with a compliment or a gentle touch, and the feelings grow until they threaten to burst from your chest.

He does everything in his power to make you laugh, and every time he does, your stomach feels like it's doing backflips. He calls you pet names and winks at you, and your knees get weak. He smiles at you, and the world seems to get brighter.

He does everything he can to protect you, and you find yourself falling for him, hard.

And you can't let it show.

So you ignore the feeling, try to bury it deep inside, but you can feel it growing, day by day.

You have never wanted to tell someone how you feel so much, and yet you are absolutely terrified to do it. It's almost funny, really. You’ve stared down the barrel of a blaster a hundred times, fought dozens of battles, and yet this one man is the only one who can make your heart race.

But there's a difference. With the other things, you could always fight back, try to fix the situation. But how can you fight against feelings? How can you stop yourself from falling in love with the most wonderful person you've ever met?

You can't, and you know it.

Every night, you think about telling him, but every morning, the fear stops you. In the light of day, the idea of a Jedi and a clone being together is ridiculous. It's impossible, and you can't risk your career and his life for something so foolish. So, each time, you say nothing, and the words go unsaid, lingering between the two of you, a heavy weight that seems to follow wherever you go.

You try your hardest not to think about it, but it's like a constant buzzing, an annoying insect that's always in your ear, always nipping at your thoughts, always reminding you of something you don't want to deal with. It's dangerous, and distracting, and it makes you worry that someday, someone will find out.

And that's the most terrifying thing of all.

If the Council ever discovered what was going on between you, they would have no choice but to separate the two of you. The thought of never seeing him again fills you with a deep dread, and the knowledge that it could happen at any time drives you crazy.

Every time the thought comes to the forefront of your mind, you try to push it away, and the effort has become a daily struggle. The others have noticed your preoccupation, and have done their best to cheer you up, but even their good-natured attempts have become frustrating, the reminders of what you were trying not to think about grating on your nerves.

The only person who doesn't seem to notice is Wrecker.

It's ironic, really. It's Wrecker who causes all the trouble, and it's him who's oblivious to it. He doesn't know the effect his words have on you, and if he does, he doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, he seems to be more affectionate, more playful, more himself than ever, and the more you try to push away your feelings, the harder they come crashing back.

It's like being caught in a riptide, unable to stop yourself from being pulled farther and farther out, no matter how much you struggle. You wish he would stop, wish he would just back off and let you think, but a part of you doesn't want him to. A part of you wants this, wants him, and it's slowly consuming the rest of you.

The only thing that keeps you sane is the knowledge that you will have to return to Coruscant soon, and that when you do, you can go back to the Order, and put the distance between you that you sorely need.

You can't hide anything from the Council. The Force is your ally and enemy, and it shows you exactly how they would react if they ever found out about you and Wrecker.

Dismissal. Disapproval. Disdain.

All things you're not ready to face, and the sooner you're separated, the better. That thought, the idea that you won't have to see Wrecker every day, helps to soothe your anxiety, and, despite the guilt and sadness it brings, you look forward to the mission ending.

The sooner you can distance yourself from him, the easier it will be.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You have no idea how wrong you are.

The tunnel network on Akiva is a mess, a winding labyrinth of tunnels and dead ends. The six of you have been trying to navigate them for hours now, and it's starting to take its toll. You've lost the trail of the tactical droid you're hunting multiple times, only to pick it up again an hour later. Your patience is wearing thin, and the squad is getting restless. You're all tired and hungry, and the dim, flickering lights of the tunnels are giving you a headache.

"How many turns have we made?" Crosshair asks, his voice echoing in the narrow tunnel. He's leading the pack with Hunter, whose trying his best to keep up with the trail, though it's growing colder by the minute.

"I...have lost count," Tech admits bitterly, squinting at the holographic map of the tunnels displayed on his datapad. "Perhaps we should have split up, that would have made the task—"

"Not happening," Wrecker cuts in, his voice firm.

"I wasn't finished," Tech snaps.

"Yeah, but you were gonna suggest splitting up," Wrecker says, "and that ain't gonna happen. We're all staying together."

"Tech, if we split up, we might lose each other," Hunter adds, his voice strained as he concentrates. "This trail is difficult enough to follow as it is. I don't need the distraction of trying to find a missing man on top of it."

Tech opens his mouth to reply, but stops when he catches your eye, and you give him a subtle shake of your head. He sighs and nods, looking back down at his datapad. "As always, the logical course of action is the least popular," he mutters.

Hunter snorts, but says nothing, and you and the rest of the group continue down the tunnel. You trail behind the group, trying to keep your frustration in check, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, and you glance back to see Wrecker fall into step next to you, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he says softly, and you can't help but return the expression. You realize what you're doing and try to school your features, but the damage is already done, and Wrecker's smile widens.

"Hi," you murmur.

"You holding up okay?" he asks.

You nod, the movement stiff. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Cause you look like you're ready to kill someone."

You grimace and glance ahead, where the others were slowly disappearing from view, and you lower your voice. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"Ain't that the truth," Wrecker mutters.

"This is a mess," you sigh, glancing around the cramped, dimly lit tunnel. "We're not gonna find anything at this rate."

He shrugs, and his elbow nudges yours gently. "It'll be alright, cyar'ika. We'll find him."

The affectionate word is like a bucket of cold water thrown over your head, and your heart skips a beat. You swallow hard, and nod, hoping he can't see the flush on your cheeks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Cause we're the best there is," Wrecker says. His arm brushes yours as the pair of you walk, and his fingers bump yours. He pulls his hand back quickly, but not before his fingertips brush against the back of your hand, and you can't suppress the shiver that runs through you. "And we have the best General in the galaxy."

"Stop," you groan, the tips of your ears burning. "I'm not the best. I've gotten us lost three times today, Wrecker. Three. If I was a better General, I would have found this stupid droid by now."

"Hey," he murmurs. "It's not your fault."

You keep your eyes on the ground, but his hand comes up and his fingers brush the back of yours. Your hand twitches, but you don't move, and his thumb runs gently over the back of your hand. You're too distracted by his touch to notice that the group had stopped walking, and it's only when Hunter speaks that you snap back to reality.

"Guys, we've got a problem."

You and Wrecker stop short, and you pull your hand from his quickly, ignoring the way his face falls. You glance up and see the other clones gathered around the entrance to a large cavern, their backs turned to you.

"What's wrong?"

Crosshair steps aside to allow you to join the group, and his eyebrow arches as his eyes flicker between you and Wrecker, a smirk crossing his face. You pointedly ignore him, and he shakes his head before returning his attention to the task at hand.

"Dead end," Hunter says.

"I don't understand," Tech murmurs. He steps forward to scan the walls and floor of the cavern with his datapad, and Echo peers over his shoulder. "According to the map, this tunnel should continue on, not stop at a room."

"Well, clearly it does," Crosshair snarks as he moves past you into the cavern. "Or are we supposed to climb the wall?"

"The structural integrity of these walls is poor," Tech replies. "Climbing would only serve to bring the ceiling down upon us."

"Then how are we supposed to get through?" Echo asks, and you bite your lip, the wheels turning in your mind.

Crosshair's flashlight pans over the walls and floor, illuminating the room, and it's then that you see the marks in the dirt. Footprints, dozens of them, some large, some small. Hunter crouches down and brushes the prints, and he frowns and pulls his glove off, running his fingers along the floor.

"These are fresh," he murmurs.

"So are these," Echo says. He and Crosshair are crouched by the far wall, examining a patch of disturbed dirt. You move to take a step forward when a chill runs up your spine, and you freeze, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

Something is wrong.

You feel it, the air becoming thick with danger. Your muscles tense, your hands clenching at your sides, and the others must sense it, too. They rise to their feet and turn to you, their weapons ready, and the only sound is the distant dripping of water and the soft whirring of Tech's datapad.

"What is it?" Hunter whispers, his voice barely audible, but you can't answer. Your eyes dart around the cavern, searching for the threat. There's no cover in the room, nowhere to hide, and it's making your skin crawl.

"I don't know," you whisper back.

Suddenly, the ground beneath your feet starts to sha, and the men shout in alarm as the shaking gets worse. Dust falls from the ceiling, and you scramble backwards, trying not to fall as the walls start to crumble.

"Go! Go!" Hunter shouts, and the group bolts for the tunnel. You trip on a stone, and the ground cracks and splits open, swallowing the rocks whole. Wrecker grabs you and pulls you to your feet, and the pair of you race after the others, the cavern falling apart around you.

"This isn't natural!" Tech shouts, and he ducks as a rock flies towards him, missing him by inches. "The droid must have set charges!"

"Doesn't matter! Just keep moving!" Hunter yells.

There's a loud roar, and the ceiling comes crashing down. You barely have time to throw up your hands before the weight of the cave-in hits you, and your arms tremble with the effort of holding it up. Ahead of you, the others shout, but the dust and rocks muffle the sound. Your knees buckle, and the rubble starts to push down on you, your back bowing.

No, no, no, no...

The rocks shift, and your hands slip, and the ceiling starts to come down again, and all you can think is that you're not ready, not ready, not ready—

There's a flash of black, and suddenly Wrecker is diving towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist, and the two of you are thrown to the side, out of the way of the falling rocks. He wraps himself around you, his broad shoulders protecting your head, and the pair of you hit the ground hard as the rest of the cavern collapses.

The impact knocks the wind from your lungs, and you're left gasping for breath, unable to move as the cave-in rages around you, the sounds of the others muffled by the rocks. After what feels like an eternity, the noise and movement ceases, and silence settles in, save for the soft tumble of stones.

Your eyes fly open, and you're greeted with darkness. It takes a moment for them to adjust, and you blink away the grit, a shudder running through you. Your limbs feel heavy, and it's only then that you notice the crushing weight on top of you. You can feel the hard edge of plastoid digging into your chest, something softer cradling your head, and Wrecker's heavy breathing fills your ears.

"Wrecker?" you rasp.

His body moves against yours, and his helmet buried in the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling as he pants for air.

"Yeah?"

"Are...are you okay?"

He laughs, a soft, wheezy sound, and his grip around you loosens, his arms pulling back, allowing the air to return to your lungs.

"Am I okay? I should be askin' you that!"

You laugh, the sound coming out as a half-sob, and you feel his hand cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. "What...what happened?"

"You almost got crushed," he replies, his voice hoarse. "Had to get you outta there."

You blink rapidly, trying to get the dust out of your eyes, and the dim light illuminates his form. He's curled around you, his body protecting yours, and his arms are still holding you tight, one wrapped around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head, his fingers gently stroking your hair.

"Oh," is all you can manage.

"Yeah," Wrecker chuckles, and his grip tightens. "'Oh' is right."

"How did you...?"

"I dunno," he mutters, and his chest rumbles with his words. "I just knew I had to get to you, no matter what."

"Well, thanks."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. His hand is large enough to cradle your entire head, and his thumb gently strokes the skin of your neck. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the feeling of him pressed against you, the weight of him, the warmth, the smell of metal and dirt and sweat, and you can't help the way your face heats up.

Your hand pushes at his chest plate, and his grip on you loosens. "Uh, we should—"

"Right!" Wrecker exclaims as his arms unwrap from around you. "Sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay!"

"I shoulda let go sooner," he babbles, and you can hear the flush in his voice. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," you assure him, and you sit up, wincing at the aches and pains in your body. You can hear him move beside you, his armor scraping the floor as he stands, and a moment later, a gloved hand appears in front of your face.

"Need a hand?"

"Thanks," you say, and Wrecker helps you up. The pair of you stand for a moment, listening to the silence around you. The room is dark, the only illumination coming from the narrow gaps in the stones above you, and the occasional shift sends dust falling from the ceiling.

“—al…Wrecker! Are you alright?" Hunter's voice crackles through the comms, the sound distorted by static.

"I'm okay," Wrecker replies, stepping back a little as he activates his comm. He pauses and glances down at you, and his head tilts slightly, like he's looking you over.

"What is it?" you ask, and Wrecker hesitates, his fingers brushing yours.

"You sure you're alright, cyar'ika?"

The endearment is like a slap to the face, and you blink rapidly, taken aback.

"I'm fine, thank you," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Wrecker doesn't seem convinced, and his fingers curl around yours. "You don't sound fine."

"I am."

"Really?"

"Yes, Wrecker," you snap. "I'm fine."

"Wrecker, report!" Hunter's voice demands, and Wrecker pulls his hand from yours and activates his comm again.

"We're okay," he says. "Me and the General."

"Thank the Maker," Hunter replies. "What happened?"

You let Wrecker answer while you try to calm yourself, your heart pounding against your ribs. It's just a word, you tell yourself, and yet the knowledge that he was willing to put himself in harm's way, risk being crushed by the rocks just to get to you...

You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

"Is anyone injured?" you ask, cutting off Wrecker mid-sentence.

"No," Hunter replies. "A few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

"Good," you say. You walk toward the wall of rubble, reaching out with the Force and testing it, searching for a way out. There are gaps here and there, large enough for a person to fit through, but the amount of debris is daunting, and you know that without tools, the task would take hours.

"Well, this is a karking mess," Crosshair grumbles, speaking your thoughts aloud.

“You can say that again,” you say. “We’ll try to dig our way out, but it might take a while."

“Negative,” Tech’s voice cuts in immediately. “This tunnel system is too unstable. Any further attempts to excavate the debris could result in further cave-ins, which could cause catastrophic structural damage.”

You sigh, leaning your head against the rocks. "So we're stuck?"

"It would appear so," Tech replies, and you can practically hear him grimace.

“What are your orders, General?” Echo asks. You can tell by the sound of his voice that he knows what you’re about to say, but the question still makes your stomach twist. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the feeling of the walls closing in is growing, and the anxiety is starting to become overwhelming.

"You're going to have to leave us," you say softly.

The words are met with a chorus of protests, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. Behind you, Wrecker has fallen silent, and his eyes are burning into the back of your skull, his presence looming, waiting.

"You'll be walking blind," Hunter argues. "Without Tech, you could get lost."

"Or crushed," Crosshair snarks.

"It's dangerous," Echo adds.

"It is," you reply. "But we can't stay here. We need to find the tactical droid, and the longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. So get moving. That's an order."

There's a moment of silence, then: "Copy that."

“May the Force be with you,” you reply, and you turn off your comm and close your eyes.

The silence seems deafening after the sound of the voices, and you stand there for a moment, collecting yourself. You can still feel Wrecker behind you, and his presence is as comforting as it is suffocating. You take a deep breath and steel yourself before turning to face him, and you offer him a small smile.

"Ready to get outta here?"

He doesn't reply, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. You clear your throat and glance away, and when you look back, he's still staring.

"Wrecker?"

"You really think they're gonna leave us here?"

"They don't have a choice," you say gently. "And neither do we."

He grunts, but says nothing, and he turns away to scan the rubble, the flashlight on his helmet casting eerie shadows on the walls. You watch him as he walks the perimeter of the cave, and it's not until he's made his third trip around the space that he speaks again.

"There's a gap over here," he calls, and you cross the cavern to join him.

He's right; the rocks have formed a tunnel, large enough for you to crawl through, and when you peek through the other side, the tunnel stretches on for several meters, the walls and floor clear of debris.

"Well, at least we have somewhere to start," you murmur.

"I'll go first," Wrecker offer, and he drops to his knees and crawls into the opening, his wide shoulders brushing the stone. You follow close behind, crawling over the jagged rocks, and when you reach the other side, Wrecker grabs your arm and helps you stand.

"Thanks," you murmur, and the pair of you turn and shine your lights down the tunnel. It stretches on ahead of you, twisting and turning, the path vanishing around a corner.

"When I get my hands on that droid..." Wrecker growls.

"If I don't get to it first," you mutter, and the two of you set off down the tunnel.

It's slow-going, with the two of you constantly checking for traps or pitfalls, and the longer you walk, the more nervous you become. It's too quiet, and the tension between you and Wrecker is thick, like an unspoken word lingering in the air.

You've been trying to think of something to say, but every time you open your mouth, your throat dries up, and the words die on your tongue. Every time, you convince yourself to tell him how you feel, and how you can't deal with his attention, his affection, but each time, your nerves get the better of you, and you lose the courage.

After a while, you turn and glance back at him, and his gaze is locked on you, his head tilted.

"What?" you ask, and the word is sharper than you intended, but the tension is starting to make your skin itch.

"Nothin'," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, and you sigh and look ahead again, trying not to think about his eyes on you.

"Stop looking at me like that," you grumble.

"Like what?" he asks, his voice low.

"I don't know," you say, your frustration getting the better of you. "Just...just stop."

He falls silent, and you bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt starting to eat at you. It's not his fault, you remind yourself. You're the one who has the problem. He's doing what he always does, and it's driving you insane, and he has no idea, and it's not his fault, it's yours.

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"No, no, it's okay," he replies. "I'll...I'll try not to stare."

You can hear the disappointment in his voice, and you swallow the lump in your throat. It's not his fault, it's yours.

"Thank you," is all you manage to say.

Silence settles in again, and the two of you continue on, your footsteps echoing off the walls. Wrecker keeps his promise and doesn't look at you, and it only makes the tension worse, the distance between you yawning wider.

It's hard to see anything in the dark, and the tunnel seems endless. The walls are crumbling, and the ceiling is low, and every time the stone shifts, you're afraid the tunnel will collapse on you, and that'll be the end of the Jedi and her trooper, crushed in the tunnels on Akiva. It's not the way you expected to go out, but you suppose it could be worse.

It's not a very Jedi-like thought, and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind. The exhaustion is starting to creep up on you, the long day finally catching up, and you're not sure how much longer you can stay focused.

"You okay, mesh'la?"

Wrecker's voice, soft and low, catches you by surprise, and you glance up to see him watching you, his head cocked. You're not sure what's worse, the fact that he can see right through you, or the fact that he's still calling you those names.

"Fine," you lie, turning away so he can't see your face. "Just tired."��

"We can stop if you want," he offers. "Rest for a bit."

"No," you say, forcing a laugh. "I'll be fine. We need to keep going."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he replies. "But tell me if you need to stop."

You nod and walk a little faster, leaving him behind. The sound of his footsteps behind you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and it takes all your self-control not to turn around.

You need the distance.

The longer the two of you are together, the closer you feel to him, and the closer you feel to him, the harder it will be to say goodbye. And if the way he looks at you, the softness in his voice when he speaks, the gentle brush of his hand against yours is anything to go by, Wrecker isn't planning on leaving your side anytime soon.

The thought makes your heart swell, but you push it down, ignoring the longing it brings. You can't get attached. You can't let him get attached. It's not fair to either of you.

Wrecker's hand finds your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm, but not painful, and his fingers gently squeeze, pulling you back a step.

"Cyar'ika, slow down," he murmurs. "Don't go runnin' off."

"Sorry," you mutter, and his thumb runs over your shoulder.

"S'okay. Just be careful."

He doesn't release you, and his grip stays on your shoulder, his thumb running gently over the fabric of your robes. You should pull away, should shrug his hand off, but his touch is comforting, and you can't help but lean into it.

"I will."

You don't move, and his fingers stroke your shoulder, the motion slow and rhythmic.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," he says. "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"It's nothing, Wrecker," you say, and this time, your words are firm. His grip on your shoulder tightens, not painfully, just enough to make his presence known. "Everything's fine."

"You can talk to me, y'know," he says, and the gentleness in his voice makes your throat close up. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

You stare at him, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You can't do this right now. You can't handle his concern, his kindness, his affection.

"I said I'm fine," you say, your voice tight. "Just drop it, Wrecker."

He stares at you for a moment, then his hand slips from your shoulder and falls to his side.

"Okay," he says flatly. "I'm sorry."

You want to reach out and grab him, pull him back and apologize, but you can't. You can't even bring yourself to say anything, to explain yourself. You just watch him as he walks away, and the distance between you feels like a chasm. He's only a few steps away, but it might as well be miles.

You stand there, frozen, for what feels like an eternity, before finally you turn and start walking again. The silence is unbearable, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped, with nowhere to go, and the man you care about most is walking away from you. It's a helpless, hopeless feeling, and you can't shake it. But you have to keep moving, so you do.

At some point, Hunter checks in and lets you know they're close to finding the T-1, but the knowledge does little to ease the pain in your chest. You keep walking, pushing yourself as fast as you can, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. The darkness, the silence, and the weight of your emotions seem to swallow you whole.

Wrecker doesn't seem to be faring much better. He keeps casting glances your way, and his posture is tense, his steps heavy. You know he wants to talk to you, but the words won't come. So you both suffer in silence, each step feeling like a betrayal, and the air is thick with things left unsaid.

When the two of you finally reach the end of the tunnel, the sun has started to set, casting the world outside in shades of orange and gold. The entrance opens into a field, the long grass swaying in the wind, and the sky is a vibrant shade of purple. It's a welcome relief from the stifling confines of the tunnel, and the sight of the sky is enough to make your heart ache.

I never want to be underground again, you think, and you take a deep breath, relishing the taste of the air. Beside you, Wrecker does the same, ripping off his helmet and sucking in a deep lungful of air.

"Fresh air," he groans. "I love fresh air."

"Me too," you murmur.

His head turns, and he smiles. "Glad we're outta there, cyar'ika?"

The affectionate word is enough to ruin the mood, and you glance away. "Yes. Glad."

"Good," he replies. His voice is soft, and when you look up, he's staring at you, his eyes searching your face. You want to look away, to avoid his gaze, but his eyes are like a magnet, drawing you in.

"Wrecker—"

"There you are!"

The sound of Hunter's voice startles you, and you tear your gaze away from Wrecker's to find the rest of the squad running towards you. Tech has his datapad in his hand, and his eyes are bright with triumph.

"I have good news," he says. "The tactical droid is—"

"Dead," Crosshair interrupts, and he tosses something at you. You reach up and catch the object, and the metal is still warm from Crosshair's grip. It's the head of a tactical droid, its expression fixed in a permanent nonplussed grimace, the red light behind its eyes extinguished.

"How...?"

"Hunter ripped it apart," Echo explains.

"I didn't like the way it was talking," Hunter mutters, and his shoulders shift uncomfortably.

"So, that's it, then?" Wrecker asks.

"Yep," Echo says. "Mission's done."

"Then let's go home," you sigh.

The men cheer, and the squad gathers around, jostling each other playfully. You smile at the display, and the weight on your chest starts to lift. You're free, the mission's over, and everything is going to go back to normal. It's a relief, and yet...

Your gaze wanders, and your eyes find Wrecker, and your chest aches. His expression is bright, a grin splitting his face, but his eyes are dark, and his smile doesn't reach them. Your hand tightens around the droid's head, and the guilt is almost unbearable.

It's better this way. You remind yourself. Safer. For both of us.

You can't risk the Council discovering what's been going on. If they ever found out, the repercussions would be disastrous. The thought of the men being punished for something that's your fault makes your stomach turn, and the idea of losing them, of never seeing Wrecker again...it's too much.

So you put on a smile and try not to think about the future, try not to think about what's waiting for you, the distance that will grow between you, the way you'll feel when the time comes to say goodbye.

The six of you pile into the ship, and Tech takes the controls, lifting the ship off the ground and flying into the evening sky. The takeoff is bumpy, and the ship groans under the strain, but eventually, you're in the air.

All you want to do is hide in your bunk, but there's a debrief to be done. Hunter is giving his report, and you're trying to pay attention, but all you can think about is the look on Wrecker's face.

You can't get it out of your head, and it's starting to drive you crazy. He was so happy when you got out of the tunnel, and now he looks like he's in pain, and you're the cause. You hate yourself for it, but the fear is still there, lingering, a constant reminder of the dangers that await you, and it's enough to make you stay away.

"We made it out with a few scrapes, but nothing too bad," Hunter finishes. He turns his head, looking between you and Wrecker. "What about the two of you?"

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your tongue, and the silence grows. All eyes are on you, and the longer you wait, the more concerned the men become. You look at Wrecker, hoping he'll say something, but he doesn't. He's staring at the floor, his shoulders tense.

"Uh, we're fine," you reply, and the words feel like glass. "No injuries. We're...we're good."

Wrecker scoffs and pushes himself out of his seat, stalking out of the cockpit. You watch him leave, a knot forming in your throat.

"That's odd," Tech murmurs, his eyes following Wrecker.

"Yeah," Hunter mutters. He shakes his head and sighs, then follows Wrecker, leaving you alone with the others

Crosshair raises an eyebrow and turns to look at you, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Well?"

"What?"

"You really expect us to believe that?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're a terrible liar, General."

You glance between him and Echo, and both of them are staring at you, their expressions unreadable. You swallow hard and force a laugh, shaking your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"If there was nothing to tell, Wrecker wouldn't be sulking," Echo points out.

"And you wouldn't be sitting here looking like you're about to throw up," Crosshair adds.

"I am not," you argue.

"Oh, please," Crosshair snorts. "It's written all over your face."

"It's pretty obvious," Echo says, his voice gentler than Crosshair's. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head and rise to your feet. "Nothing."

"We're not gonna leave this alone," Crosshair calls after you.

"We're worried about you," Echo adds.

"Fine," you say, trying not to sound as defeated as you feel. "Worry. It doesn't matter. We'll be on Coruscant soon, and then I won't be your problem anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Echo asks, his voice sharp, but you ignore him and keep walking. You can hear them arguing, their voices rising, and the words they're throwing at each other make your stomach churn. You keep your head down and keep walking, but before you can reach the bunks, you see Hunter and Wrecker. They're standing in the middle of the hallway, their backs to you, and Hunter's hand is on Wrecker's shoulder.

"—just give her some space," Hunter is saying.

"But she's—"

"She's fine," Hunter cuts in. "She just needs some time to herself. You've been a little clingy, and she needs a break."

Wrecker's shoulders stiffen, and the hurt in his voice is palpable. "Is that what she told you?"

"Well, no," Hunter says slowly. "But—"

"Then how do you know?" Wrecker demands, pulling away. "How do you know that's what she wants? How do you know she doesn't..." He trails off, his voice thick, and he turns, and his eyes land on you. The two of you stare at each other, the space between you charged with emotion, and when he speaks again, his words are quiet, and heartbreaking. "...want me?"

"She's a Jedi," Hunter says softly. "They don't...feel those kinds of things."

Wrecker stares at you, his expression open, the longing on his face so plain, so obvious, that your knees feel weak. You can't take it anymore. You turn away, ducking into the refresher and locking the door behind you

The room is silent, the air still. There's no sound but the pounding of your heart, the blood roaring in your ears. You lean against the door and slide to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees.

You know what you have to do, but the idea is terrifying, the thought of saying goodbye to Wrecker too painful to bear. But he's hurting, and it's because of you. You can't put him through that, not any longer. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can be with him, can give him the affection he deserves, not a cowardly Jedi who can't handle the consequences of her actions.

The realization hurts more than you thought it would, but there's nothing you can do. You've known all along that this would have to end someday, and that someday has come.

The only thing you can do is let him go.

The next day passes in a blur, and the tension is thick in the air. Wrecker doesn't say a word, doesn't look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and you're grateful for it. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and the others are quick to pick up on the change. They cast furtive glances at each other, their concern growing, and their efforts to cheer you up only make the situation worse. You'd much rather they focus their attentions on Wrecker, so you avoid all of them as best you can.

It's easier this way. Safer. Less painful.

And maybe, if you keep telling yourself that, you'll start to believe it.

Once you land on Kashyyyk to refuel, the five of them disappear into the village, leaving you alone to meditate. It's the one thing that can help you clear your mind, and you welcome the chance to relax.

The ship is silent, the hum of the engine the only noise, and the quiet helps soothe the ache in your chest. You close your eyes and settle onto the floor, clearing your mind and reaching out with the Force.

When you were a youngling, you were told that the Force was your ally, and you believed it. Now, you know better. The Force doesn't take sides. It simply is. It exists in everything, every living thing, and sometimes, when you meditate, you can feel it. It's a gentle brush against your senses, like a soft caress, and you let yourself sink into the feeling, allowing it to envelop you, and for a moment, everything seems to fade away.

That's why, when you hear the sound of someone approaching, you're startled, and your eyes fly open. You frown, remembering Hunter saying he'd comm you when the others were headed back. It's more than likely Tech sneaking away from the group to tinker with the ship, and so you stand, turning towards the sound.

What you see instead, however, makes your blood run cold.

Wrecker is standing at the top of the ramp, his form silhouetted by the light outside, his eyes burning into you. You're frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. All you can do is stare at him, trying to make sense of the expression on his face, but all you can see is anger, and your heart sinks.

"What's going on?" he asks. His voice is low, but there's an edge to it, and his shoulders are stiff.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been acting," he says, stepping further into the ship. "Ever since we left Akiva, you've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I haven't been avoiding you," you lie, turning away from him.

"Like kriff, you haven't!" he exclaims, and you flinch, the anger in his voice catching you off guard. "I've tried to talk to you, and you walk away! You won't even look at me!"

"That's not true," you argue. "I'm always—"

"Yeah, it is," he snaps. "You think I don't notice, but I do. You're always running away, avoiding me. Why? Just tell me why. Talk to me. Please."

"Wrecker..."

"Don't say my name like that," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Don't push me away. Please, cyar'ika, I need to know what's going on."

The endearment sends a jolt through your system, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry. You've spent the past twenty-four hours doing nothing but thinking about this, trying to steel yourself for what's to come, and yet here he is, begging for answers, and you're not ready. You can't bring yourself to say the words, can't bring yourself to push him away, but if you don't, it will only get harder.

"Please," he whispers. "What did I do? How did I hurt you?"

You can't look at him, but you can't ignore him, either. The last thing you want is for him to think any of this is his fault, and so you force yourself to turn, your eyes meeting his, and your resolve breaks.

"You didn't," you murmur. "It's not your fault, I promise."

"Then tell me what's wrong," he pleads, and his voice is soft, and the desperation in it is enough to break your heart. "Tell me what I can do to fix this."

Wrecker reaches out and takes a step towards you, his hand outstretched, but the gesture is hesitant, almost as if he's afraid to touch you. When you don't move away, he steps closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your sleeve. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours, and the ache in his voice is enough to make you want to scream.

"I'm not good at this," he admits. "This...talking stuff. I never know what to say, and I'm sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, or did somethin' wrong, I'm sorry."

"Wrecker..."

"I just want to make things right," he whispers, and his fingers curl around your sleeve. "Just tell me how, and I'll do it. I'll fix it."

He's so earnest, so sincere, and the guilt is crushing. You can't lie to him, not anymore. Not when he's looking at you like this.

"It's not that simple," you say, and the words feel like lead in your mouth.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice raw.

"Because," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Because I can't do this anymore, Wrecker. I can't..." You trail off, the words dying on your tongue. You can't bring yourself to say them, can't bring yourself to end things like this. But it's too late. He knows.

He drops his hand, and the look of pain on his face is almost enough to break your heart.

"Do what?" he asks, his voice shaking.

"This," you say, gesturing between the two of you. "Whatever this is. I can't keep pretending that I don't know what you mean when you call me those names. I can't keep acting like it's nothing, because it's not."

Wrecker stumbles back a step, eyes wide.

"You knew?" he asks, and his voice is barely audible. "This whole time...?"

"Of course I knew," you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You think I could have missed it?" You try to laugh, but it comes out as a choked sob. "You're not exactly subtle, Wrecker."

"Oh," he says, and the single word holds a world of hurt. He turns away from you, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and the tension in the air is palpable. A heavy silence settles in, and when he speaks again, his voice is a hoarse whisper.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"I couldn't," you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I...I liked it too much."

"What?" Wrecker turns, his head snapping around to face you, and his expression is torn between hope and horror.

"You heard me," you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. You turn away, but his hand finds your chin, gently tilting your face back to his. The heat of his palm burns into your skin, his touch so gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asks, and the words are barely audible. "If you like it, why are you trying to push me away?"

You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. It's a good question, and one you're not sure you can answer.

"Because," you start, and then trail off. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from yours, and the pain in his eyes is overwhelming. "Because I'm not meant for this. For us." You motion between the two of you. "I have a duty. A responsibility. I can't...I can't give you what you want. What you deserve."

"But I don't want anyone else,” Wrecker says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I just want you."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you close your eyes, trying not to cry. You can feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his hand, the scent of him surrounding you. You want to pull away, to run and hide, but the way his hands cradle your face, the gentleness in his touch, makes it impossible.

"You don't mean that," you whisper, the words like poison. "You can't. I'm a Jedi. You know what that means. You know what my life is. I can't give you anything, Wrecker. I can't even be there for you. I can't..."

"Stop," he whispers.

His hands drop, moving to your shoulders, and he turns you, pulling you closer. You let him, and his arms wrap around you, his forehead resting against yours. The touch is warm and gentle, and his eyes are soft, full of pain and love.

He's never been anything but gentle with you, even when he didn't have to be. Even when the mission demanded he take risks, put his life on the line, he was always careful with you. Always protective. Always gentle. And now, here, when the mission is over, the danger gone, he's still treating you like something precious, something to be treasured.

It's too much.

"Don't say that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. You can't decide for me, cyar'ika. I'm not gonna change my mind. I'm not gonna stop caring about you. So just...just stop. Okay?"

Your hands find his, curling around his wrists. His pulse is pounding under your fingertips, and his chest is rising and falling with each breath, the beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours. It would be so easy, so tempting, to let yourself give in. To give him the answer he wants. To give him the one thing you've wanted to give him for so long.

But you can't. You can't let him sacrifice his future, his happiness, for you. It's too much. Too selfish.

"Wrecker, please," you say, squeezing his wrists. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Then don't do this," he whispers. "Don't walk away from me. Please." His voice breaks, and his fingers dig into your shoulders. "Just...just give me a chance."

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to hit him, to shove him away, but you can't. All you can do is stare up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes begging. It would be so easy, and yet, impossibly difficult. If you do this, if you give in, it's not just your life on the line, but his. If you give him what he wants, if you allow him to care for you, it will only lead to more heartbreak. More pain.

And yet...

You can't bring yourself to pull away, can't bring yourself to deny him. And, if you're honest with yourself, you don't want to. You've wanted this for so long, wanted him, and now that the moment has finally come, the opportunity has presented itself, you can't let it go.

"I can't," you whisper, your voice shaking.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared," you confess. You reach out and cup his cheek, running your thumb over the scarred tissue beneath his eye, and his expression softens. "I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to...to love you." The words come out choked, and the tears in your eyes blur your vision. "It's wrong. It's forbidden. It's...it's..."

"It's what?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion. "It's amazing? It's the best feeling in the galaxy?"

"Yes," you whisper, and the tears spill over. "But I can't do this. I can't...I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Wrecker asks. His hand slips from your shoulder, his fingers stroking your cheek, catching a tear as it falls. "Cyar'ika, I'd sacrifice myself for you a hundred times over. You think I care about what they'd say? They can go kriff themselves. I'd fight every single member of the Council for you, if I had to. But I don't need to. 'Cause they can't tell me what to do, and neither can you."

"You say that now," you mutter. "But—"

"I'll say it every day," he cuts in. "Every single day until you believe me. I don't care about them. I don't care about the rules. I just want you."

"Wrecker, stop," you whisper, but he shakes his head, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

"I know you're scared. I know you're worried about what's going to happen. But we don't have to think about that. We can just be together. Just us. Nobody has to know. We can figure this out. Together. But you gotta let me in."

You stare at him, stunned by the strength and certainty in his words. He's right. You are scared. You're terrified. And not just of what the Council will do, or what the consequences might be.

You're afraid of him, of the power he holds over you, the way you feel about him. But standing here, with his hands on your face, his eyes searching yours, it's enough to make you reconsider. Enough to make you question everything. And so you swallow your fears, and you say the words.

"I love you, Wrecker."

His lips part, and his eyes widen, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"You mean that?" he asks, his voice tight with emotion.

"Yes," you say, and the word is like a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I do. I love you."

His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you into him, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your face. He doesn't say anything, just stares down at you, his gaze burning, and the silence stretches on, charged with anticipation. And then, finally, he speaks.

"I love you too, cyar'ika," he says, his voice trembling. "More than you know."

Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You pull him close, burying your face in his chest, and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight. It's an overwhelming feeling, this affection, this love, but you can't deny it. Not anymore. And as you stand there, his body wrapped around yours, his hands running through your hair, you know that he's right.

"Don't let go," you whisper, your voice muffled by his armor. "Please, don't ever let me go."

"I won't," he says, his voice a rumble in his chest. "I got you, an'edee. Always."

The words send a jolt of warmth through your body, and you melt into him, allowing yourself to be swept away by the feeling. It's like coming home, the warmth and comfort washing over you, and the tension melts away, leaving only relief in its wake.

You're not sure how long you stay there, wrapped up in each other, but when he finally pulls away, you're stunned by the look in his eyes. No one has ever looked at you like that. No one has ever seen you like he does.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Yes," you say, smiling up at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he says. "You don't gotta thank me. Just keep lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you love me," he murmurs.

"Oh," you reply, blushing. "Well, then, I suppose I should do my best. It wouldn't do for me to fail in that regard."

He chuckles, his hands sliding up your sides. "No, it wouldn't."

You shiver at his touch, the heat of his hands sinking into your skin. His palms are rough and calloused, and his fingers are gentle, tracing the curve of your waist. Your eyes meet, and his smile is so wide, so warm, that you can't help but return it.

"So," he says, his hands drifting lower. "Where does this leave us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. You know, our relationship," he says. "Are we...together? Or do I still gotta keep pretendin' that you're just a friend?"

You sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "Together, Wrecker. We're together."

"Good," he grins, his eyes bright. "'Cause I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it. Having you around, knowing how I felt, not being able to do anything about it."

"That's why I was avoiding you," you admit. "I knew if I had to spend much more time with you, I was going to break. I was already having trouble controlling my feelings. If we'd had another mission, I don't think I would have made it. I was so close to telling you how I felt."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he groans, his grip on your waist tightening. "I wish you would've said something sooner. Woulda made things a lot easier."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Don't apologize," he says, his voice husky. "You're worth the wait."

Your breath catches in your throat, and his eyes flick to yours, and his grin turns mischievous.

"What is it, mesh'la?" he asks, his fingers digging into your hips. "Tell me."

"I, um..." You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his voice makes your insides turn to mush. "It's just that...when you call me those names, it, uh, does things to me."

"Good things?" he asks, leaning in.

"Yes."

"You want me to keep saying them, then?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can do that," he murmurs. His breath is warm on your skin, his voice low and teasing. "And I can do a lot more, too. If you want me to."

You stare up at him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, trying not to let your desire show on your face. You've never done anything like this, never even considered doing something like this. And yet, the idea of him touching you, kissing you, fills you with anticipation.

"I'd like that," you manage, your voice hoarse.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he leans down, his lips ghosting over yours. His eyes search your face, and he waits, and when you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

It's a slow, soft kiss, the barest brush of skin on skin. But the contact sends a thrill through your body, and you can't help but press closer, wanting more. Your hands move to the back of his neck, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes, and he obliges, pulling you in.

His lips are warm, his tongue slick and hot as it traces the seam of your mouth. You open for him, letting him deepen the kiss, and his palm slides up your back, cradling your head. His thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness of the gesture sends a rush of warmth through your veins.

When the two of you finally break apart, your lungs are aching, and his breath is ragged. He leans his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of your neck.

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he whispers, and the name sends a thrill through you. You can hear the longing, the need, in his voice, and it's enough to make your knees weak. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

"Tell me," you say, your voice shaking.

"Too long," he murmurs. "Far too long."

You lean back, looking up at him. The adoration in his eyes takes your breath away, and you pull him down, kissing him again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more intense, and you can't hold back a moan as his tongue slips past your lips.

The noise seems to ignite something in him, because the next thing you know, his arms are around you, lifting you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in, and his hands roam over your back, sliding down to cup your ass. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, and the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, makes you gasp.

Wrecker sets you down on the edge of your bunk, and the height difference is suddenly very apparent. You're not used to being on eye level with him, but now, with your legs spread, his body between them, it's impossible not to notice. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail, and the hunger in his eyes sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. He sounds awed, like he can't believe his luck, and the compliment makes your heart flutter. "So kriffing beautiful, cyar'ika."

You lean into his touch, and his fingers brush against your lips, the callouses of his hands rough against your skin. You kiss his fingertips, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush.

"Not as beautiful as you," you murmur. He shakes his head with a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"No one's as beautiful as you," Wrecker says, his hand finding yours. His fingers lace with yours, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. His touch is gentle, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your heart clench. "I could look at you forever. Never get tired of it."

The heat on your cheeks is unbearable, and you're not sure how to respond. Words can't capture the emotions coursing through you, and so you lean in, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. He groans against your mouth, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your legs around him, the need to be closer, to feel his body pressed against yours, overwhelming. He seems to understand, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth nipping at your lip.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, cyar'ika," he promises, his voice rough with emotion. "Promise."

"You already have," you whisper. "Just having you here is more than I deserve."

"Don't talk like that," he mutters. His hand slides up, cupping the back of your head, and he kisses the corner of your mouth. He tilts your face up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'm not gonna give that up. You're mine, and I'm not lettin' go."

The words are a jolt to your system, the possessiveness of his tone making you tremble. He's always been protective of you, but this is different. This is more than just a desire to keep you safe. This is something else entirely. You can't find the words to respond, and so you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and praying the tears in your eyes don't spill over.

"Wrecker," you whisper. "I..."

"I love you," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. "So much."

The words are a balm on your aching heart, and the tears finally fall. Wrecker leans in and kisses them away, his lips soft and gentle against your cheeks. The tenderness, the closeness, it's too much to bear, and the emotions welling up inside you are overwhelming. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, and he holds you tight, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I got you," he whispers. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"I do," he replies. He cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes are soft, and his lips curl into a gentle smile. "You've been through a lot, and you're tired. You're allowed to cry."

You nod, wiping the tears from your face. He's right. The past few days have been exhausting, emotionally and physically. Between the mission, the tension between the two of you, the anxiety and uncertainty, it's a miracle you're not falling apart.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Stop thinking so hard. It's okay."

"I'm not supposed to let my emotions get the best of me," you murmur.

"That's some banthashit, an'edee," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a hint of steel in it. "You're human. You're allowed to have emotions."

"I suppose," you reply, unable to keep the smile off your face.

"Good," he says, and his thumb strokes your cheek. "We'll make this work. We'll find a way."

"Wrecker," you sigh.

"Shh," he cuts in. "None of that. We're together, right?"

"Right."

"Then trust me. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he promises. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"We'll figure it out," Wrecker says. "It might be hard, but we'll find a way. We always do."

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm. You kiss him back, allowing yourself to give in, to let go of the fear and worry, to let yourself be swept away by the feeling. He's right. It will be difficult, but it's worth it.

This is where you belong, in his arms, and no matter what the future holds, no matter what the Order says, no matter the consequences, you know you'll always have him. And that's more than you could have ever hoped for.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @meshlajetii @heaven1207

@808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper @sensitive_shark

@kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees

#wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker wednesday #the bad batch #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #the clone wars #roy writes #posts this and runs away #idk why this one bothers me so much oh well #anyway part two is pure smut so prepare thyself

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mystery-star · 7 months ago

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Occupational Hazard - Spock

Pairing: Spock x fem!reader

Warnings: robbery and insults

Words: 717

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

You had never believed that there would somewhere be a planet that was almost exactly like Earth during the early 20th century. And while the inhabitants did not call themselves ‘human’ one could almost think you had just landed in an old, American city. Since the Captain had been fascinated to find out more and put together a landing party. Since the aliens looked very similar except for two single facial ridges, you even could meet the natives, of course pretending you were from the planet too. What made you especially happy was that you could be down there with your husband. But as history expert you figured it was logical that you would be part of the small landing party that went down first.

As you walked along the streets, you were happily rambling about certain stuff you found, marveling at the similarities to Earth of the time. And yet, there were some differences, which were even more interesting. Spock patiently listened and sometimes did his own scans or asked questions. Suddenly, there was a young man in front of you.

“Hand over your dough and valuables, now!”

“I am neither carrying rough bakery products nor valuables with me at the moment. Even if I did I fail to understand as to why I would want to give them to you”

“Oh yeah? Maybe this helps” he pulled out a gun. Had Spock been human, there surely would have been a frown on his forehead

“Are you attempting to engage in a barter transaction?”

“If you wanna call it that” the guy adjusted his hair “Your money or your lives”

“I doubt this qualifies as a legal swap”

“Spock” you hissed, nudging his side because he was unknowingly making the situation worse

“Finally sunk in, huh? Now give it to me”

“As I have stated previously, I carry neither of the objects you desire and if I had them, I would be disinclined to leave them to you”

“Thinking you’re funny?”

“I am merely being serious and honest”

“Well, maybe the whore listens” he pointed his gun at you and you took a small step back “That gun you wear and your… whatever its” the pointed at the tricorder that you wore around your hip. Exchanging a glance with Spock you just wanted to hand them over because you didn’t fancy being shot.

“I would appreciate if you did not refer to my spouse in such a pejorative manner, especially seeing that her profession is entirely different from the one you have mentioned”

“You know what, cocksucker? I’ve had enough of you” with that he pointed his gun at your husband, making you cling to his arm.

“Please” you said, directed at both of them. To Spock that he should just shut up and to the man to stop “He’s just trying to be funny. He doesn’t mean it. Here” you took off the tricorder but Spock caught your wrist

“Handing over our equipment would violate the prime directive”

“And let him violate us instead? This is a robbery”

“See now, I think your Missy’s seeing sense”

“Robberies have always been considered a crime, no matter the culture” he told your attacker, who didn’t seem to like it at all

“Spock” you gently touched his arm and lowered your voice so only he could hear you “Let’s just give it to him and then you take him out. No harm done. ‘Cause even if such pistols are old they still were deadly” your husband didn’t react and at first you thought he had not heard you but then he gave a nod and took off his own tricorder. When the robber leant forward to take it Spock’s hand shot forward and he nerve pinched the guy, making him fall to the floor with a groan. You let out a relieved breath.

“Perhaps this individual would be better off searching for work instead of threatening people on the street into giving him their private possessions. I suppose it would a much safer occupation that would even earn him more” you chuckled

“Well yeah, work always was better and safer than robberies. Can’t be said for us though” you nudged him in the side with your elbow. “Our job almost got us robbed on the street right now”

#by linnie #spock #spock imagine #spock x reader #spock x you #imagine

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talkfastwalkfaster · 1 year ago

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Serenity ~ Ben Kenobi x Reader

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

A/N: this is set about 5 years after rots. reader is about 27 & obi-wan is 43. i was going to make a valentine anakin fic but that plan moved so enjoy my other love, hermit obi-wan. this is my first time writing smut so it might not be the best. also, if you have any feedback, it's welcomed & appreciated :)♡ WC: 3,041 Warnings: MDNI, smut, some angst

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Tatooine was known for its extremely warm temperatures, but today was worse than ever. Ben was drenched in sweat the entire day, making him wish they could afford a cooling system to install within their home.

He noticed you never seemed to sweat as extensively as he did. He assumed it was because you were a native of the planet.

“(y/n), are you certain that our animals will survive this weather?" Ben called out from the entrance of your home. His thoughts were consumed by his trusted stead, Eopie may have been able to sustain this weather in previous times, but that didn't ease his worries.

Ben headed into your house and over to the kitchen where you had been for the past few minutes.

He rested his hand on your lower back and peered over your shoulder to watch you chop up some vegetables for dinner. If he was honest, he was a little envious that this heat was seemingly not affecting you as it was him.

Your mouth formed into a small smile as you continued cutting vegetables, “I’m certain, Ben, they’ve survived hotter weather than this before. They’ll be fine.”

He exhaled, his shoulders deflating as he continued to gaze at you. He knew his worries were futile, yet his concerns wouldn’t falter. “I know, I know. I just can’t help but worry for them.”

This was his life now, he had accepted becoming a farmer ages ago, but there was still a lot more that he would have to come to terms with; he was still haunted by memories of the war, watching Anakin fall to the dark side, watching Qui-Gon die, watching Satine die, watching his beloved Commander and battalion turn against him in the blink of an eye…

He rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to shake the weight that always seemed to be weighing him down. “I suppose it’s just the heat getting on my nerves. It feels as though the heat of a hundred suns is shining down. I don’t know how you’re acting all nonchalant, I feel like I might as well be burning and yet you’ve barely broken a sweat.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at him, “Well I have lived here all my life, I’m used to the heat.” The truth was that the heat always did manage to bother you a little, but you had grown up in the scalding temperatures, you were, unfortunately, accustomed to them. It made no sense for you to complain about it.

“I don’t know how you do it if it’s not the heat that’s unbearable, it’s the awful sandstorms that are always passing through here,” Ben complained. Despite having lived on Tatooine for a while now, it seemed as though no matter what he did, he could never get used to the heat. His mind digressed toward Anakin and his hatred toward this planet, and he finally seemed to understand his point of view. But Ben quickly pushed that thought away as his heart ached each time his mind brought up his former student.

He was brought out of his trance by the sound of your voice. “You’ll get used to them. Sure, they might not be ideal but Tatooine isn’t as bad as it could be. I mean the war never came here and the Empire has little interest in this planet. The weather may not be perfect and there are always things that could be improved here, but i can’t think of living anywhere else,” You mused. You knew that Ben got stuck in his head easily and you’ve known him long enough to see the signs of it.

His brow always started to furrow and he stroked his beard, seemingly without even realizing it. You’ve figured out that the best way to bring him back to the present was to talk about where you are. Even though you’re not necessarily fond of praising Tatooine, he needs it, and that’s all that matters to you.

“I wish I had as much patience as you do, my dear,” he sighed, taking in another deep breath.

It all seemed so normal, this was a conversation that any couple could have. To any outsiders, you two would be seen as a regular husband and wife, like any other married couple in the galaxy. Ben was slowly starting to feel content with his life here, he could almost forget everything that happened five years prior. He could almost pretend that he did not come to Tatooine because of his failure, that he didn’t have to go into hiding, and that his life didn’t completely spiral because of one order.

Your face softened, knowing how difficult it’s been for Ben. It always seemed as though he was unable to completely move forward, despite his best attempts, because of whatever happened in his past. “Well, you've only been here what, 5 years? You have to give yourself time to adjust, sweetheart."

A faint smile stretched across his lips when you called him ‘sweetheart’. It was the most endearing pet name you had ever given him and he felt a warmness throughout his chest whenever you used it. It made him feel normal, he didn’t have to worry about his former life as Jedi Master and General Obi-Wan Kenobi anymore, he could just be Ben, your husband.

He chuckled softly, watching as you began to cook the vegetables before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “I know, darling, I know…” he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and sighed, breathing in the scent of you, something that always relaxed him.

As you cooked, your mind briefly wandered to Coruscant, Ben had once mentioned that he was born and lived most of his life there. You wondered if the planet was anything similar to Tatooine or if it was the complete opposite. You had always wanted to ask him more about his past, what he was like before you met him 3 years ago, and yet, for some reason, you could never bring yourself to give in to those desires.

However, as the two of you stood in the kitchen, you believed that now would be a better time than any to ask him, seeing as this was the first time in a while that he was truly beginning to relax. You hummed softly, attempting to keep the peaceful environment that had been created, “You said you were from Coruscant right? Is it very different from here?”

Ben stiffened slightly from his position behind you before forcing himself to relax, he knew you had no ill intent with your question. If this was any other time, he would have avoided your prodding, but for once, he decided to indulge you, even if only slightly. “It’s very different from here, my dear.” he held you tighter and kept his head resting in the crook of your neck, your familiar scent had always given him a sense of peace and calmness, something which he craved, wishing he could forever be engulfed in it.

“Coruscant makes Tatooine look like a ghost town. It’s full of large buildings and many different levels. You could always hear the buzzing of speeders and people clamoring to numerous places,” Ben paused for a second, wondering how much more he should tell you, before ultimately deciding it’s best to keep it brief, “Let’s just say there was never a dull moment there, my love.”

You decided to push your luck, desperately wanting to know more about your husband. You murmured, as if trying not to startle Ben with your next question, “Do you ever miss it?”

His heart immediately constricted at the thought, though he quickly dismissed it. There was no reason for him to start dwelling on what-ifs, this was his life now, and there was no changing the past. “My life there? No, not at all,” he replied quickly, the lie coming out easy.

This has become a type of dance for him, every once in a while you would try to inquire about his past and he would always find ways to avoid giving too much detail. He would only ever respond vaguely enough to not make you suspicious while also satisfying your curiosity. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you what his past life actually entailed, it was still too raw, too painful. He didn’t want you to worry either. He knew that he couldn’t hide who he once was from you forever, but he couldn’t tell you today, not now.

Ben rested his chin on your shoulder and muttered “I wouldn’t want to go back.” A half-truth, he’s not as fond of the planet as he used to be, but it still holds some sentimental value to him. It’s not that he would never want to go back to Coruscant, it’s that he can’t. If he ever tried he knew the Empire would be on him as soon as he was even remotely close to the planet’s atmosphere.

You finished cooking the vegetables and raised your eyebrows slightly surprised, not expecting that answer from him. “Never?” you inquired, feeling slightly bewildered. “You’d really never want to go back? Was it that bad?”

Ben held you tighter and exhaled, that part of him died years ago. To him, Obi-Wan died the moment he left Anakin to die on Mustafar — he had been, in a way, reborn as Ben. He was just Ben Kenobi, a simple farmer, and your husband. Nothing more, nothing less. “It was fine, nothing particularly interesting happened to me when I lived there,” he lied again, giving you a soft kiss on the side of your neck hoping that this topic of discussion would die out soon.

You sighed at his words and murmured, “Dinner’s ready.” You decided to let the topic drop, knowing that he wasn’t exactly telling you the truth, but you hoped that one day he would trust you enough to let you completely in.

The two of you ate dinner in silence, both of you seemingly lost in your thoughts. Ben had intrigued you from the start. You had met him at a market in Mos Espa, and he immediately stood out to you. From the way that he held himself to the way he talked. He looked like someone who had seen the galaxy, who had actually experienced life, something you had always wished to do but never had the luxury. His eyes — his beautiful, entrancing sapphire grey eyes that were like pools of sorrow. They showed a variety of complex emotions, something that made you want nothing more than to break down his highly built-walls and see who he truly was.

Ben was never one to speak much while eating, he felt there was no need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter — he wanted to just enjoy being with you, you were everything to him.

He had never thought that he would be able to have this, that he’d be able to feel happy again. For the first two years that he had lived on Tatooine, he had expected that he would be alone forever, that he had deserved to live a life of isolation. But then you came along and completely wrecked all those painful thoughts.

Ben hadn’t realized that he was being completely quiet, he was still processing that he was married and a farmer — he never thought this was how his life would turn out. “Thank you for the dinner dear,” he remarked appreciatively.

The corners of your mouth turned upward and your eyes brightened ever so slightly at his gratitude, “You’re welcome. I’m sorry though, I know it’s not much-”

He interrupted, “Don’t worry yourself, it’s perfect… You’re the best, you know that?”

You held back a smile, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Am I now?”

Ben brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the palm gently, “You certainly are, my dear. You are the best thing to happen to me in years and I wouldn’t have it any other way."

You leaned forward and kissed him, deciding that no words would be able to encapsulate how you felt towards him.

His heart fluttered as you kissed him, it was so tender and he was more than willing to return it. Your lips were soft and inviting, and he couldn’t resist pulling you into his lap, his hands gently caressing your face. In response, you wrapped your arms around his neck, desperately wanting to be closer to him.

You couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss, your body was reacting to his and you were so comfortable being in his arms. He was all you needed in life, there wasn’t anything else that mattered. His hands slowly drifted down and began rubbing small circles on the small of your back.

Your heartbeat quickened as the two of you pulled apart, the feeling of kissing him was intoxicating. You started to subtly grind your hips down, desperate for any type of friction.

Ben gasped softly at your ministrations and quickly connected your lips again. The kiss between the two of you was full of love and passion. Your hands were everywhere, one wrapped behind his neck and your other around his shoulder, as if you were trying to entangle yourself with him.

Ben deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out and exploring your mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore and picked you up, heading straight for your shared bedroom. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck and you kissed all over his face and neck as he took you to the room.

Once you reached the bedroom he gently laid you down on the bed and slowly made his way on top of you, wanting to savor each moment. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an expression that could only be described as pure, devoted love before lowering himself and kissing you again, this time slower and more intimate than he had previously.

Without breaking the kiss, he started to tenderly remove your tunic from your body, revealing your naked top to his gaze. The rest of your clothes were quickly removed and thrown off the bed as Ben began to kiss you everywhere — your neck, your shoulders, your chest, anywhere he could get his lips on. His hands slowly made their way down your chest, squeezing and massaging your breasts before finally heading towards your neglected pussy. You were completely entranced by his touch, his hands were sending shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble with anticipation.

You whimpered in pleasure as his hands moved downward and he inserted one finger into your dripping folds while lightly rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. You hastily tugged on his own tunic, stripping him until both of you were naked on the bed. You grasped his shoulders and spread your legs open wider, inviting him to come closer. Ben slotted himself in between your thighs and hovered on top of you, his arms caging you in.

Ben shifted slightly, slipping one hand in between your bodies to grasp his cock. He dragged the tip of it through your folds a couple of times before finally sinking into you. You moaned as he pressed himself closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist as you adjusted to the size of his cock.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, nails digging into his skin as you begged, “Ben, please, move.”

He slowly began to rock his hips, not wanting to rush this moment. The love between the two of you was palpable, your bodies fit together perfectly as if you were made for each other. He moved his head to your neck, pressing soft kisses into the crook of it. He knew right then that everything he went through was worth it if this was his fate. All of his struggles and hardships faded away as if all that mattered was you and him.

Your moans grew louder as he gradually picked up his pace, the wet squelching sounds of your skin meeting filled the room. Your nails raked down his back, pleasure completely filling your senses, the only thought on your mind was Ben.

As your lips met again, the kiss was tender yet rough, a juxtaposition that seemed to also perfectly describe your husband. You could feel your orgasm looming, squeezing his cock and pulling him deeper into you. He moaned into the kiss, his hips stuttered, spilling inside of you, coating your insides with his cum. His orgasm triggered your own, whining loudly as you spasmed around him, your whole body trembling as you rode out your high.

The two of you laid there for a while, basking in each other’s presence before he slowly pulled out of you, the mixture of your cum slowly running down your pussy and thighs.

You leaned up and gently kissed the side of his mouth, “I love you, Ben.”

A soft smile grew on his lips, his heart was overflowing with his love for you. He had never felt like this with anyone but you — you were his person and he was yours, you were perfectly suited. He had no doubt in his mind that you were his soulmate, and he’d thank the Maker that the Force led him to you. “I love you too, my dear.”

You looked up at him lovingly, knowing that this was where you were meant to be, everything seemed right, everything made sense, when you were with him and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You knew in the back of your mind that you still had ways to go with Ben, but in this moment, none of that mattered, you’d have him in any way you could.

He exhaled and pressed his forehead against your shoulder — leaning against you in this way felt very nice. His body, mind, and soul felt rejuvenated just by being in your presence.

The two of you shifted so that you were laying your head on his chest and your legs were intertwined. Slowly you and Ben drifted asleep, your bodies, minds, and souls forever entwined.

#nat's tales #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan #ben kenobi #ben kenobi x reader #⋆obi-wan⋆#obi wan x reader #ben kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #ben kenobi smut

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rigelmejo · 19 days ago

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woohhhhhh like clockwork it's about every 10-20 hours I feel the high of "wow I'm on top of the world, I understand so much!" and then to the low of "fuck I still can't understand so many words this is so frustrating." I call it the rollercoaster of intermediate level.

A few hours ago I was on the highest part of the rollercoaster, feeling over the moon at how much of DaGe I was understanding.

Now I'm listening to MoDaoZuShi a few hours later, and I feel the rollercoaster diving. I still understand WAY MORE than I did 20 hours ago, for sure. It's just now instead of being thrilled I can tell which scene is going on, I'm feeling frustrated every time I hear a word I don't know.

I should be thrilled I can now tell when the time skip happened in MDZS! I should be thrilled I caught Nie Huaisang and Lan Qiren's names! And the discussion about drinking in Gusu! If it was yesterday, I would still feel excited and over the moon lol. But instead, I am now feeling the frustration creep in of every phrase and word I still don't understand. The rollercoaster is diving again. It's gonna feel worse, for a while, before I hit another peak of excitement.

I wonder if we ever felt similar when we were children... learning our native language.

I suppose mainly with reading, as the hours we heard our native language was so high and so constant we probably didn't notice any peaks or lows in 10-20 hour chunks as that would just be Every Day. But with reading, we definitely all felt an initial 'this is hard' around kindergarten or whenever our parents/preschool/babysitter tried to help us read. Then we probably felt 'wow I can do this!' and excitedly read signs anywhere we saw them, then it got harder than picture books and we felt 'oh this is hard' as the teachers/parents/librarians urged us to try small chapter books. For some of us, people read with us aloud to help us through this stage. My dad did. My parents also got me one of those old LeapFrog reader toys where you put a special plastic book inside a bigger LeapFrog plastic folder, then clicked the words with the leapfrog pen and it would read the words aloud. (I think LeapFrog still exists but now its just a pen that can read words aloud, which is cool). My dad and that Leapfrog pushed me past that 'difficult' period. Then I felt okay reading easy chapter books, and got excited, and tried to read the novels for adults on my parents bookshelves (difficult novels like autobiographies, college science textbooks, Anne Rice, Michener novels) and I gave up. I'd try again, then give up, try again, then give up. Sometimes I picked up an easier book like an old middle school history book, and be able to understand some. Or a National Geographic magazine, and understand some. So maybe those years were full of the rollercoaster - feeling I could understand 'so much' then feeling I couldn't, over and over. Finally when I was around 9 my dad had us read a young adult book series together, and I got irritated by how slow we read it when we read aloud together, and that eventually pushed me to seriously stick to reading long enough to become able to reliably handle young adult novels on my own. Wanting to finish the series got me reading like a million words in a few days, and I'm sure that helped me lol. By the time I was 11 I could read whatever I wanted, and I remember by middle school I could read a 500 page book in a day.

I remember a few times in high school, feeling the 'low-high' thing again with reading, mainly when I had to read The Prince and The Pauper, the style was so different from modern English it took me a while to adjust. After that novel, older writing didn't throw me off much. Shakespeare threw me off of course, but it throws all high schoolers off to read both old English writing and poetic English writing. And then in college, I got REALLY good at reading non-fiction books in record time, because I had so much reading material for classes to get through and understand in very little time. So by mid way through college I could read a 600 page non-fiction book in 1-2 days or less. If it was intensive, like tons of equations, then 20 pages an hour (which is still my reading speed if there's a ton of equations to sort through or it's manga/comics as I like appreciating the art lol). In college I also got REALLY into fanfiction, to cheer me up, and I would read 300k fanfictions in 2 days, or several 10-25k fics a day. (I usually read fiction slower these days, as I enjoy savoring it more now). I also read a ton of wikipedia and news, as I really just was eager to distract myself from college lol.

That's when I got into learning French to read, and went through the reading process all over again with French. I saw it as a good thing that French seemed to follow the same pattern as learning to read English growing up. I figured it meant I was actually 'learning' and not just fumbling in the dark.

#rant #chinese listening experiment

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misc-obeyme · 2 years ago

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Hope you are okay??

So I was thinking about how langaues have changed over time, and I was wondering about if the OM characters did visit a country back in the 17th century and never visited again they would speak what they spoke back then

However, its mentioend that Lucifer, Satan and probably Mammon have visited England throughout many times they would have senw the empire and how it fell. They would have pickes up on the language and dialect

For example Lucifer having the queen accent which would have been around the 1990s

Satan having more of a modern British Oxford Accnet

But Mammon's accent would change throughout time, as he has been to (headcanon) that Mammon has been to the USA and his accent and dialect would have changed

So it would be intresting to see this and the country history through them, like their perspective, and understanding why demons seem like they are higher than the human race

Hello, anon!

I'm about as okay as I can be, I suppose. I've been better, but I've also been worse! I hope you're doing well!

Anyway, I think it's fascinating to consider what kind of accents the demons have. If we consider that they all spoke some native demon language (or angel language or both) before they ever learned any human world languages, then it stands to reason that they would speak any human world language with a demonic/angelic accent.

My experience with language learning is that although I am doomed to always have an American accent, I still try to use the accent of the language I'm learning to speak.

So I would think that if someone is learning English, they are going to try to emulate whichever English accent is around them. The one they hear the most. If they're not actually in an English speaking place (like they're learning in the Devildom first), they might end up with a mixture of some kind because they're using different learning sources. (I think it'd be pretty cute if they all picked up whatever accent MC has.)

Which means that they could absolutely pick up any of the accents you've suggested if they've spent any amount of time in a place where that accent is the one they encounter the most.

I think it would be kinda funny for Mammon to be the only one with an American accent. Now I'm just imagining him with a southern accent lol.

And it would indeed be interesting to hear what they've experienced of the human world and its various countries, especially the ones who seem to have been there often. Due to the whole witch situation, Mammon seems like he's the one who's been to the human world the most. However I do think that Satan would be the one who would be actually paying attention to human world history. I think he'd have a lot to say about historic events, especially if he happened to witness them first hand.

I think there's a lot of room for interesting headcanons about the way the demons have interacted with the human world.

#truly fascinating #but with the potential for demons causing problems lol #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #anon asks #misc answers

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paradoxcase · 2 years ago

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I decided to redo the section on the full moon celebrations in the QuCheanya document:

Basically, the soulwright religion was the original religious practices of the ancestors of the Cheanya about 5000-6000 years before this document came into existence, and is related to religions that continue to exist practiced by related peoples. The basic concept behind the religion is if god was a collective of Tolkienian dwarves, except instead of putting their heart and soul into crafting material goods, they do that for crafting human souls, and then they give the souls to human babies. A lot of the religion revolved around bribing or bargaining or tricking the soulwrights into giving your child a good soul, and souls were said to be worse-made or better-made or even what were called masterwork souls, which were supposed to belong to special or important people, and of course, the soulwrights liked to give the best souls out multiple times, so reincarnation was a thing as well. In other places this religion evolved into a more modern kind of faith, with specific individual soulwrights gaining personalities and preferences and interests and names, and it became less about how well your soul was crafted and more about which specific soulwright had made it. For the Cheanya ancestors, this religion was largely replaced by worship of Sapfita 5 or 6 thousand years before this document. The Sapfita religion didn't come from somewhere else, it was also native to the Cheanya and never really existed outside of their large island due to them never really gaining a lot of global social capital. Where exactly it came from and why it replaced the soulwright religion is something of a mystery to archaeologists that is sort of solved in the story I'm trying to write about this.

The main ideological beef that the Sapfita priests had with the soulwright religion is that it implies a certain amount of predestination - that the soul you're born with determines a lot about what you will accomplish in your life. The accepted model of time here is that there are a huge number of branching timelines, not every single branch that could possibly exist, but an extremely large number. The timeline tree cannot be changed (although time paradoxes can obviously occur, as they did with this document), but since it's not predetermined which timeline you specifically experience, you are still free to choose from an impossibly large number of possibilities. The basis of the Sapfita religion is that if you make good choices and therefore wind up on a favorable timeline, Sapfita blesses you with knowledge in form of difficult-to-interpret dreams, and there practices involving recording dreams as they happen and taking drugs that are supposed to make the dreams more likely, or more understandable. There is a lot of emphasis on advising actions that make the world a better place, to increase the likelihood of dreams, so there is also an emphasis on free will and the responsibility of choice. The other issue with the soulwright religion is of course that it promotes the idea that some people just have inherently better souls, and as the priesthood formed it also began opposing that as part of its political position of being generally oppose to the monarchy that they felt had used the time travel technology without proper recognition or gratefulness, especially since obviously the ancient rulers and kings were usually reckoned to have the best souls. As the document says, soulwright worship continued even after the priesthood officially formed as a result of this document and began opposing it as an organized religion, because the idea that you have a special soul and that it's better than someone else's that you don't like is an attractive idea and there were a lot of sacrifices to soulwrights that happened just in case they were actually real. However, it became increasingly taboo to worship soulwrights as time went on, and eventually the practice truly died out. They did stick around in a lot of sayings and fossilized language and are still the subject of ghost stories, however. Naturally none of this exists in QuCheanya, but only in the natural languages.

#qucheanya #worldbuilding #kelyira worldbuilding #religion worldbuilding

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horizon-verizon · 2 years ago

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I’m South African and American. I never planned on voting because I didn’t like Biden anyways (and fuck trump), but I always saw his as like a “better option” than Trump. Now I’m just not voting. Fuck that. Genocide Imperialist Joe needs to fuck off. These politicians are sick, they’re like weeds or cockroaches.

Then vote locally and look at your Congressional voting sessions monthly. Even weekly if you must. Some seats are up for voting every year! congress is responsible for the war budgeting and the president cannot lead the country into war independently nor without congressional approval--since they control that war budget--AND it is part of Congress' legal right in the check and balances system of American government.

Look up what you can do once you find yourself in corners. There are probably ways you can start to understand how you can dig yourself and help others to dig themselves out of that hopelessness from seeing limited voting options in terms of candidates due to corrupt nominees or presidential candidates.

The thing is, anon, once you don't vote, you're also giving much more room to those who are actively trying to block certain people (who may look like you, if you're any darker than the translucency of white people) from voting. Biden is not exempt from the things I will list below, but in an era where more and more control is being stripped away from individuals, the answer isn't to give up more of the little control you do have. And you do not need to vote Democrat or for Biden! That will be essentially lying in the dirt road, closing your eyes, and waiting for a death you still could at least roll yourself away into the edge from. There's a reason why many PoCs and women have fought for the right to vote for basically all of American history--if you have nothing, they have everything and they will use it against you.

The following is part of the past version of this post

This was supposed to b an explanation for why people were and are convinced that voting for Biden was the best bet:

There will be more votes for the "worse" candidate than the "better" one. If anything, Trump winning should have clued people in on that fact. One big reason why he won was because not enough people old enough who didn't, at least, want Trump, to actually go out and vote. Some out of their own volition and political lethargy than actually being blocked (at least from what's reported). And after Trump's election/being backed more by right-winged companies and Christofascists, we see more politicians employ the same sort of vote suppression because not everyone cannot remain stupid or apathetic forever, and the many in the generation who couldn't vote but can now or have been after Trump is a lot more energetic but also concious that they must remain politically concious. They've witnessed atrocities like the aftermath of pipelines and train crashes polluting their towns and native water supplies. They've seen Gerroge Floyd, climate change, and how companies are adamant about ignoring its effect on them and how it limits their future options not just economically but personally (can they have a family, for example). And of course, they saw how Trump's blatant stupidity and self-centered grossness were basically spearheading this particular Christofacism, as I mentioned, which is itself guiding a lot of decisions toward abortion rights and how people should or shouldn't look at Hamas and the Palestinian genocide.

In other words, it's understandable why one would be tired, but that's also what they are banking on. Roe v Wade was itself not a codified law and was a measure to give women little autonomy over their own bodies and now that's been taken away. The answer is not to then let them take no-fault divorce, yes? Then you'd be inviting more disaster and then it really is some of your fault. You need to vote for people you need, research, and convince others who may not know or be indoctrinated into voting alone. Perhaps be much more active by joining campaigns, protests, rallies, etc.

Yes, this should clue us all in that Biden and people you find out are like him (Democrats and other moderates) should not be the next president. Know who your candidates are and before elections for presidents, vote in lower elections so you have people you feel are not like Biden so those will be the only one(s) in the final ones.

#not asoiaf #us politics #israel and palestine 2023 #us voting #us elections #us history

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katyswrites · 3 years ago

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don't call me 'baby'

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap

Wordcount: 4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 1 | in the same room, at the same time

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.

It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.

Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.

“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”

“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”

“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”

He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.

“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”

As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.

1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself.

It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.

Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.

As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.

Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.

With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.

Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah?

You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.

You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.

You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned.

You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.

“Oh, none for me - thank you though.”

Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening.

“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.

“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off.

You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.

*****

The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.

“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.

“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.

He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.

“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.

“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”

You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.

You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.

When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed.

“Shit - d’you have a light?”

You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.

“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”

You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”

“I heard enough,” you said quickly.

His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.

“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head.

“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”

You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”

You shrugged.

“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”

He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.

“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What kind of bet?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.

“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”

“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”

“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”

“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.

“Huh?”

“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”

He scoffs, nodding fervently.

“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”

“Then let’s do it,” you said.

His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.

“Do what, exactly?”

He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”

*****

You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.

“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”

“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”

“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”

“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”

Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.

“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”

“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”

Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood.

“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”

You just smiled.

“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”

You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.

“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.

All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt.

“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.

But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.

“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”

Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.

Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”

“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”

“I doubt that.”

You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”

“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused.

“Why are you asking?”

“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”

Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.

“So, you think I’m strange?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile.

“Obviously, yes.”

Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.

“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”

He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:

I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!

You attached the photo and pressed send.

Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.

You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.

“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”

You shrugged, shifting to face him.

“Honestly?”

He nodded, gaze fixed on you.

“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”

“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”

“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re kind.”

It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”

“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh - alright.”

You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.

You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.

Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!

You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.

“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”

You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”

You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly.

******

Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.

“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.

Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:

Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.

S.H.

You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.

“Is that -”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”

He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least.

“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.

“I - yeah.”

“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”

You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.

“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.” Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?

Notes: a brand new fic! A ton of credit goes to my friend Em, who indulges my fantasies and headcanons with plenty of ideas of her own. Also, I've never been to Rome, so bear with me here. Also, please always read content warnings before reading each part!

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stoat-party · 2 years ago

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My Joshua Graham take (alternate title: stop beingng mean to him!!!!!!)

Now I’m not a Joshua-did-nothing-wrong girlie (I mean, if you can’t recognize his flaws then you get his bad ending, so there’s that), but I gotta defend my boy for a minute. I’m gonna try to tie things back to the facts of the game, but there will obviously be Themes and Context that I can’t even begin to get into, and your mileage may vary.

Mitigating factors

We’ve gotta keep in mind that this guy is in severe and continuous chronic pain. Now, that doesn’t make you a bad person — one of the most loving and giving people I know is disabled with chronic pain, and of course everyone starts dealing with some form of it as they get older. But it can definitely affect how people relate to the world, and the preoccupation of being in constant pain means it takes more effort to act the same as they used to, (assuming they were a good person even then). I’m just saying that I would be a little more prone to anger if I had to tear off and replace my skin every morning.

Also, he and Daniel are both in grief — the Wiki places the sacking of New Canaan in 2281, and while it could have been earlier than that based on the minimal evidence we have, that’s still an extremely fresh wound. Joshua implies he either has or had family in New Canaan. With their numbers reduced to about thirty, he’s undoubtedly lost multiple people, in a violent and traumatizing way, while also dealing with the guilt of having (indirectly) caused it. He’s not acting totally rationally here.

Claim: He spent thirty years acting as a warlord and committing total cultural annihilation in service of a maniac

Hey, granted. That did happen. He doesn’t offer much of an explanation for it, except that he first did it to survive and then kept making compromises until he’d completely lost his sense of morality. And explanations aren’t excuses, we know this, but they do make redemption arcs more palatable. Personally, I don’t understand being against redemption arcs in fiction. They’re my favorite thing.

It’s important to note that the narrative does punish him for his actions — the guy he committed all the atrocities for betrayed him, he has the aforementioned chronic pain and disability now, and then the war machine he created to destroy cultures destroyed his own. So if you’re the type to think redemption needs to include suffering/death, there you go.

Claim: He is racist

The most literal form of this claim can’t be accurate, because everyone in Honest Hearts is GECK-coded as Caucasian (except the caravan company). The tribals actually have races created specifically for them (to account for their tattoo styles), but they're still white. They weren’t all supposed to be white, but that’s how it turned out in the game due to extremely limited production time. The Sorrows are descended from American schoolchildren, the Dead Horses are descended from Germans and Native Americans, and the White Legs are descended from Shoshone, Latin-Americans, and Americans (they’re also the palest of the three, not that it really matters).

Claim: Stereotype of the “white man’s burden”

This is a bit more Doylist than Watsonian, but it wasn’t intentional. Daniel was supposed to be Asian, but again because of short production time he ended up white. I interpret him as biracial.

Claim: He’s culturally elitist

He does believe his religion is the best one, though IMO everyone should feel that way. But he doesn’t think of himself as above the tribals — he considers himself a tribal, and shows distaste for “civilized” places. Daniel is actually worse about this one.

Claim: He’s Mormon

Well, yeah. I take issue with this being considered a punishable offense on its own — unless it’s combined with anti-blackness or child marriage or something, it’s just a religion, and there’s no evidence of the Future Mormons practicing anything like that.

Claim: He’s a missionary

As above, judging based on this without any specific evidence of wrongdoing is a little bit ignorant. Most modern missionaries are basically aid workers with a religious motive, and they make an effort to culturally assimilate with the host community, if it wasn’t their country to begin with. (Are there horror stories, sure. Like I said, Themes and Context.) Based on Joshua’s (and Daniel’s) responses when you openly mock their faith, there’s no coercion going on.

Claim: He’s committing cultural imperialism against the Dead Horses

He did do this as Legate. He visited Dead Horse Point to prime them to join the Legion, teaching them warfare and allowing them to basically worship him. Follows-Chalk says he saved their tribe from extinction, but obviously he did that intending to wipe them out. However, Burned Guy Josh came back to prevent them from joining the Legion, and his track record since then shows a pretty high regard for their culture.

In Follows-Chalk’s quest, Joshua is concerned about influencing them more than he should. Follows-Chalk says he’s the tribe’s leader, but Joshua actually explicitly denies it, the implication being that he’s a little uncomfy with being more than a military advisor. He even says that there are better role models than him.

Claim: He wants to commit genocide

There’s one big misconception I want to correct: The White Legs don’t live in Zion, they live by the Great Salt Lake. The group we meet are a war party. At worst, they had a support staff of non-combatants.

They were trying to commit genocide against the other three factions. You can be on Daniel’s side in the big debate, but the Sorrows absolutely had a right to defend their homeland from people tasked with killing then all, whether or not it was a good idea in practice. (The Dead Horses are also visitors; they originate from Dead Horse Point.)

He does hate them, hence the racism accusations, but according to Ulysses, they really are violent raiders (he and Joshua both call them mongrels, actually). Again, they kinda burnt Joshua’s family to death. His prejudice comes from their collective actions and their affiliation with the Legion, not their race or lack of technology or anything like that. He calls Salty an animal, but he also says that he relates to him from his days in the Legion. His brutal tactics were wrong and that’s the point, but he didn’t want to commit genocide.

Claim: He’s a hypocrite/He uses religion to justify doing bad stuff

Yeh! That’s the idea, and getting him to admit he’s wrong about it is one of my favorite scenes in the game. It’s especially poignant if you’re religious, because you’ve undoubtedly seen others commit this sin and maybe struggle with it yourself. Admitting the motives you’re hiding from yourself, accepting responsibility for your actions, and forgoing revenge on someone who’s seriously hurt you are all really potent character moments, in the game and in real life.

Claim: He extorts the Courier by trapping them in the valley until they do a bunch of dangerous quests for him, then makes them pay for medical care and weapon repairs due to said dangerous quests, and oh whoopsy doo there’s no way of making money in the valley except collecting stuff and selling it to the general store, but MAMMA MIA GUESS WHO RUNS THE GENERAL STORE??

Okay, I’ve never actually heard anyone say this, but it’s true. It’s all true.

#fallout #new vegas #fallout: new vegas #fallout new vegas #honest hearts #joshua graham #daniel fallout #daniel new vegas #fnv #f:nv #fonv

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danoscigarette · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter I - Bad Moon Rising

Percy Dolarhyde x f!Reader

Summary: Moving to the town of Absolution has brought nothing but trouble. An arranged marriage to a certain son of the colonel doesn’t go down too well, especially as he’s an ass. How does your business cope with all the shenanigans? Will your relationship with Mr Dolarhyde remain rocky, or can either of your hearts be tamed?

Warnings: prostitution, swearing, alcohol, arranged marriage, eventual smut

A/N: Percy Dolarhyde brain rot, my Dano obsession seems to be circling his characters at the moment! But I actually have a thought out story with this so stay tuned for more content! Enemies to lovers is one of my favourite tropes so buckle up, save a horse and ride a cowboy!

The desert town of Absolution was a bustling town in New Mexico filled with stores, bars and of course, cowboys. It was a small, dishevelled place, but it was called home by many.

You weren't native to Absolution, in fact your home town was a little haven called Sparrowdale, a good 40 miles away from your current residence. You were relocated here by your father, Mr Noah Langtree, who was a respected tradesman and cattleman. Apparently he had business with the infamous Col. Woodrow Dolarhyde which required him to move into the town itself; this made your business affairs rather difficult. As a successful bar keeper (and guardian of women of the night) you had to move everything to this isolated town, including your girls. Back in Sparrowdale, you had connections you wouldn’t otherwise have, you built a rapport with its citizens and the ‘higher ups’ as an entertainment bar; which meant you were questioned less on its “entertaining activities” - all of this dissolved overnight thanks to your father's impulsive decisions.

What had made it worse was his intentions towards you and a certain son of the colonel.

"Absolutely not"

"You haven't even met him yet"

"And neither will I"

Your arms are folded, a scowl on your face as you stare your father down from the other side of the dinner table.

"Y/N, sweetheart, you need to understand that its not easy..." your father raises his hands defensively, you take none of it.

"You didn't even ask me first"

It came to you quite appallingly when you discovered your arranged marriage to a Mr Percy Dolarhyde, apparently the colonel had insisted and "twisted" your fathers hand. It would strengthen the family businesses, making both your father and Col. Woodrow extremely rich; your father just had to sacrifice you.

"I knew you'd say no darlin', but with this deal it could mean that we have a better life!"

"As if we weren't living a satisfactory life as it is? I mean look at me pa! I’m a respected business woman, you don’t come across those every day!" This was very true, you had lived very comfortably under the Langtree’s business, and even more so when you opened the bar. Being the only child, you were able to purchase most things you desired - jewellery, books, clothing, and you never went a day starved or parched. The two surviving family members have a steady income, and even if you didn’t have a job, it would still be more than enough! What more could your father possibly want?

"We are, but sweetheart I ain't gettin' any younger and I don't wanna see you alone…or like your girls" His voice sounds weepy, you didn't want to show any sympathy but part of you felt for the man. You suppose that he himself is lonely after your mother’s passing and wishes for you to not experience a companionless life.

“My girls aren’t alone, I’m not alone. We’re rather happy, thank you very much” you insist, your father lets out a long sigh and wipes his hand across his face.

“But years down the line you’ll look back and wish you’d have a youngun’ of your own. And your ‘business’ may be solid now but a husband can support you if things go wrong and I can’t always be there to take care of you”

You consider his words, not that you particularly wanted any children (lets face it, your job isn’t really appropriate for kids) and a husband sounds…awful. You did however understand the necessity of a spouse, especially as a woman in the world you live in. Whilst in thought, your father reaches to hold your hand with a sullen look; you allowed it and held him tight in your palm.

"Just meet him once, if you really don't get on..." your father sighs once more. "Then I will call it off. But promise me you'll try with this boy, okay?"

"It's a deal papa" you reluctantly shake his hand, if Percy was anything like you heard, then the marriage will be over before it even began.

2 days pass after your agreement, you and your father were invited to the Dolarhyde estate where you'd meet Percy and Col. Woodrow for the first time. It was a social gathering, a party if you will, for all the business men in the area; though, this could only mean alcohol was involved. Great, meeting your potential future husband for the first time and he could be black out drunk. One of the stories you were told about this harasser of Absolution was his insatiable desire for booze. No doubt he also took advantage of many an escort. Although you made sure your girls were (mostly) clean, you couldn’t speak for the pre-existing prostitutes of the town, so whatever diseases Percy had, you were sure to share; just imaging it made you feel repugnantly sick.

Throwing on your violet dress, you make sure to look presentable; not for Percy who will in no doubt forget even meeting you after today, but for your father's business partners and associates. You wanted to give your father a good reputation, your mother would say "a pretty face makes for pretty business".

Staring at the mirror, you check yourself out, brushing off any wrinkles and even lowering the neckline to accentuate your bust; it made you feel like a piece of meat but you were dressed to impress.

"You look just like your mother" you hear you father chime through the door, you turn to give him a smile. "You got her eyes…and my stubbornness” he reaches forward and places a gentle hand to your face. As much as your father had placed you in such a shit situation, he was your pa, and he loved you dearly as you did him.

"Here, I got you somethin" out of his bag, he pulls out a delicate bottle of perfume. "I hope you like it"

Thanking him, you immediately (and excitedly) spray yourself with it - it has lovely notes of rose and lavender, a floral combination that reminded you of your mother.

"That smells so nice! I love it pa, thank you" you give him a warm hug, it at least had put you in a cheerier mood.

Arriving at the estate, your carriage pulls outside of a rather large building; much larger than your home. You can somewhat understand your father's appeal of the place and the desire to own one himself. You could hear a rabble coming from the back where the party was taking place, spotting a few people dotted around; the ladies in particular had dolled up, making you feel a little insecure.

You internally slap yourself, you didn't really care what you looked like before and neither will you now. You felt that the girls you housed in your bar were infinitely more beautiful than you and it never mattered before. ‘Get it together Miss Langtree’. Eyes shift to the sky, although the weather was sunny, over in the horizon you saw storm clouds rolling in; you took this as a bad omen.

“I hear hurricanes a-blowin, something about this feels like trouble, pa” you pout

“Don’t be so dramatic Y/N, it’ll be fine. Now, straight back, head held high and give us a big ol’ smile” your father draws an invisible line over his lips as he pulls an exaggerated, toothy grin.

You could only sigh and let out a rather noticeably fake smile, but it was good enough for your pa.

“Mr and Miss Langtree?” You hear a young man great you, he was a smallish fellow with many missing teeth. “I was told to bring yer round the back, Mr Dolarhyde said to take ya’ll right to him”

“Thank you kindly, uh…”

“Otis, just call me Otis”

“Alrighty then Otis” Your father tilted his hat towards the man before linking his arm with yours. For some reason, you could feel him shake under your grip, was he nervous? The colonel was known for being quite ruthless, but you’d never take your father to be a scared man. Maybe the rumours were true; the mere thought had you trembling a little, what if Percy was like his father?

As you walked around the building, you took note of all the trees and foliage, they certainly tarted up the place, supposing its because they were extremely rich. You hoped to one day have a nice garden of your own with lots of flowers and maybe even a cherry tree. Your eyes gaze over many a face, lots of fancy looking folk mixed with less fancy looking folk; all seemingly staring at you and your dad, you were strangers after all.

“Sir its the Langtree’s” Otis called over to an older gentleman, he was very tall with grey hair and a sandy hat; this was Woodrow Dolarhyde.

“Welcome welcome, its great to see you again Mr Langtree…” Woodrow shook your fathers hand with a half smile, he had a serious yet amused tone in his voice. “…and you must be the lovely Miss Y/N Langtree, its a pleasure to meet you” he held out his hand to yours, you take it and are surprised by a quick kiss to your knuckles. Mr Dolarhyde’s presence was incredibly intimidating, though you couldn’t help but blush a little, you could tell he would’ve been quite handsome in his younger years.

“I believe the pleasure is all mine Mr Dolarhyde” you give a cute little curtesy before taking back your hand.

“A polite lil’ thing aren’t ya? But please, call me Woodrow. And can I say, you smell like a bed o’ roses” he lets out a low chuckle.

“Why thank you, my pa gifted me some perfume just for the occasion”

”Well ain’t you just sunshine and rainbows” Woodrow dryly jokes, he turns to your father and gives him a knowing look. “I assume your daddy’s given you the news of our…plans” he awkwardly rests a hand on the back of his neck and gives you a sympathetic smile.

“I have indeed sir” your father blurts, the nerves beginning to get the better of him. “Go on” he whispers and nudges you towards the colonel.

“I uh yes, yes he has” Your father’s nerves were rubbing off on you, now you understood why your father wasn’t able to put up much an objection to this proposal.

“Percy!” Woodrow shouted, it was sudden and rather aggressive; both you and your father jump at his words. “Percy, boy where the hell are ya?” He bellowed once more. You look around and see a stumbling lanky young man emerge from the bushes, followed by a giggling young girl who quickly runs away from the scene. ‘Hmm an excellent start’ you think to yourself.

“Percy the fuck are you doin” Woodrow quietly grunted at his son. You look at this mess of a man, greasy hair, dopey sad eyes and crooked teeth (at least he had all of them). Despite this, he was an oddly attractive man, given that he could do with a good scrub and brushed hair; he had a bit of a baby face and was very tall, towering above your party. The thing that puts you off the most though was this strong stench of alcohol. Perfect! Just as you envisioned, an alcoholic with greedy eyes for women. This engagement was as good as finished.

“This is my son, Percy Dolarhyde, Percy this is Noah and Y/N Langtree” Woodrow attempts to introduce his son, Percy looks between you and your pa and gives you both a pursed smile.

“Howdy” was all he could muster, he was rather tipsy at this point as his body swayed from left to right.

“Ahem” your father coughed in his chest, nudging you once more.

“A pleasure to meet you…Mr Dolarhyde” you say through gritted teeth, giving a slow and frustrated curtesy, Percy didn’t respond. All he could do was look at your breasts, this irritated you to no end. Woodrow stared up at the boy and gave him a firm and discrete punch in the arm.

“Oh, oh yeah uh nice to meet you too and all that” Percy tips his hat before his eyes looked away from your party, either out of awkwardness or searching for that young girl he was having a nice time with behind those bushes earlier. You could hear alarm bells in your mind, he kind of looked like a rag doll, and you wanted to shake him like one.

“So Miss Langtree, your father tells me that you are a business owner. What is it that you do?” Woodrow enquires, your father gives him a look of panic.

“I-”

“She’s an bar keeper!” Your dad interrupts, a pained grin on his lips

“I also provide a source of entertainment” you add

“Like what?”

“Mostly singing isn’t it darlin? Your girls are extremely talented”

“Girls?” Percy’s head swivels back to the conversation, Woodrow gives him another swift punch, at this rate he’ll give his son a dead arm.

“Yeah…when we came to Absolution, I brought all 7 of my girls. They’re either singers or dancers and-”

“They entertain at the bar!” Your father interrupts once more. You weren’t ashamed of the girls at all, what they have to do to survive in this world is their business and their business alone, all you could do is provide them shelter, food and a bed; and just for a few hours at the weekend they earn their keep to stay under your roof. Each girl is assigned a bedroom in your establishment, it cost a pretty penny but you had luckily saved enough to buy a building large enough for the girls to stay comfortably.

Woodrow looks you up and down, somewhat catching onto what kind of “entertainment” these girls get up to; which he doesn’t necessarily mind or care (especially after seeing a good few himself) but he wasn’t sure how well this will end with his son. Percy was the kind of person to divulge in anything he wants, not that Woodrow would ever stop him, he was his pride and joy but…in terms of business it wouldn’t look too good.

“Well I am sure we will have to pay a visit sometime and watch ya’ll perform. When do you open?”

“Yeah we’ll be sure to check them pretty ladies out” Percy drunkenly giggles, you give him a look of disgust, damned are you to allow him into your bar.

“Well I wanted my girls and I to settle in first, no doubt you’ve probably seen one of em’ walk about the town and explore. I intend to have a grand opening in a couple of weeks, give or take” You smile politely

“Well you better be prayin’ each night cuz you’ll have to compete with our good ol’ Gold Leaf” Percy spat, feeling rather defensive of his usual drinking spot. You swallow your anger before articulating an answer which didn’t come across as rude.

“I am sure the Gold Leaf has a well enough reputation to keep its loyal customers, just as I will gain mine. Plus I don’t know what entertainment the Gold Leaf has, but they certainly don’t have gals from Sparrowdale singin’ and dancin’ in revealin dresses”

“Reavealin??” Percy’s eyes widen with excitement, Woodrow rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed groan.

“Excuse me for a moment…Percy the fuck you playin’ around for?” Mr Dolarhyde grabs Percy by the scruff of his neck and pulls him aside to give him a good telling off. In the meantime, you turn to your father and give him a stern but amused look, a look to say ‘I told you so’.

“He’s uh…quite the catch huh?” Your father awkwardly chuckles.

“Clearly”

There is an awkward silence, you look between your father and over to the Dolarhydes who were arguing under hushed voices. You could overhear Percy whine something along the lines of “but I don��t wanna get married”. What a baby.

“So how do you feel if I stayed an independent woman for the rest of my life?” You half joked, your father rolled his shoulders back in attempts to collect himself.

“Come on sweetheart, give him a chance”

“I have! And look at him! You expect me to marry that?! Delusional” You furrow a brow, all you wanted to do was walk out, but you knew too much was at stake.

“Listen to me Y/N, he isn’t much of a man - and that’s a good thing”

You are somewhat taken aback by what your father said, he rests his hands on your shoulders and looks at you intently.

“A weak man is easy to control, a drunk man even easier. You may not love him, heck, you may not even like him but with you runnin the bar and him drinking all day at the Gold Leaf, you’ll barely see him. Now this is an entirely transactional wedding, I know its not great but imagine the benefits. You will be MRS Dolarhyde, the town will respect you and you’ll be well protected. If anything, do this for yourself, you could really take advantage of this”

Finally, a point that’s worth considering - when he puts it like that, it could actually be a good thing after all. Imagine if the Gold Leaf somehow outdid your bar, the girls would have to be let go, they would have to fend for themselves in a town they barely know. Having a husband in the Dolarhyde family would sure have its perks, if not a guaranteed safety net. ‘Fuck! I’d even marry Woodrow for that kind of stability’ you thought.

Giving Percy one last glance before sacrificing your freedom, you nod in agreement. You take your father’s hands off your shoulders and hold them in yours, stroking his palms and giving him a brave smile.

“I’m not happy about this but…you’re right. I accept”

“Accept what?” You hear Woodrow ask as he walks over, Percy sorrowfully following close behind him

“To opening the Sweetwater earlier than schedule. I believe the sooner we open my bar, the sooner I get acquainted to the town’s folk!” You lie, it was convincing enough though.

“Sweetwater? Is that the name of your establishment” Woodrow smirks, “I like it…listen here, I don’t want you to get a bad lookin’ of my son here. He can be mighty fine when sober so waddaya say to a little rendezvous tomorrow when Percy’s had his kip?”

You push down all initial negative thoughts, biting your lip you look up at Percy who is somewhat scowling at you. ‘The fuck’s he starin at?’ You thought, it took everything in your power not to throttle him.

“I would be delighted” you smile sweetly if not patronisingly “though I must see how my girls are doing at some point”

“Y’know what, I got an idea. How ‘bout I’ll swing by with Percy here and we can check it out, considering we’ll be your sponsors from now on. Gotta support the family business right?”

You curl your toes in your shoes, calling you family already? You certainly weren’t ready for your girls to meet your husband and father-in-law to be, but alas, you agree to the arrangement.

“Great, now how about we leave these two love birds to get acquainted whilst we talk, there’s a lot to discuss. Mr Langtree, may I?” Woodrow pulls your father away and you are left internally screaming with a scarecrow of a person.

You glance up at him a couple of times, he hasn’t said anything yet and the tension is thick.

“I know this is probably not what you want…” you begin calmly

“It’s not”

You wanted to punch him so badly, you grasp your fists together tightly.

“But its the cards we’ve been dealt with, so we might as well play along” your body is tense, you really don’t want to be here. Remembering the words of your father, you adjust your shoulders, head held high and you gave Percy a strong, confident look. “Mr Dolarhyde…”

“Percy, just call me Percy. Everyone does”

“MR Dolarhyde, I will be frank. If you don’t get in my way, I won’t get in yours. You do whatever you please and I will do whatever I please. We don’t get in each other’s shit, and we will get along just swimmingly. Okay?”

“Fine by me, bitch”

Your eyes burn into him, if looks could kill, this man would be dead in an instant. As you were at a party so you didn’t want to cause a commotion, you calm yourself before saying anything.

“Less with the attitude or I’ll slit both your neck and your balls you hear me? Call me that again and you’ll be a dead man” You whisper a threat, he gulps and gives you a slightly nervous expression. “I’ve dealt with men far worse than you, I have fought with my bare hand with men twice your size off of my girls so don’t try me Mr Dolarhyde”

“Gee whizz, you are one scary woman. I heard ya loud and clear - just don’t go blowin’ your head off or anything” Even though he was pretty sure he was well protected by his father, there was something in your eye that believed your warning.

At the end of the day you left the party in higher spirits, you had made yourself quite the first impression; never fuck with a Langtree, especially not the owner of the Sweetwater bar. Percy didn’t quite know what to think, he knew he disliked you; thought you were a little freak. But much like you, he had agreed to the wedding out of duty for his father, and chose not to tell anyone about your threat.

Your pa had questioned the smug grin on your face as you got into the carriage, you didn’t explain why, just that you had found your footing and established order between you and Percy.

#paul dano #danocel #danonation #percy dolarhyde #Percy Dolarhyde x reader #cowboys vs aliens #cowboys and aliens #cowboys and aliens x reader

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carryonthroughtheages · 4 years ago

Text

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

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little-mad · 4 years ago

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 11

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin wouldn’t really say he was a good judge of character, the amount of friends in low places he had was a testament to that. However, even he could tell that this new alteon that had appeared was bad news.

There was something about the way the guy held himself--it was cocky and arrogant, as if he was certain he was the most important person in the room. Not to mention the sleazy little smile he was wearing that seemed to promise trouble. But what Gavin hated most was the way the guy looked at him. It was hard to describe, but the only thing Gavin could think of to equate it to was how middle school bullies looked right before they were about to trip some poor kid in the hallway.

The green-eyed giant had been speaking in the same language that Gavin had heard a couple times throughout his time in the alteon dimension. Of course, he couldn’t understand any of it, which made him nervous for some reason.

“Not really much to look at, is he?” the new alteon remarked, now switching to English. “I know all humans are pretty pathetic, but I was expecting someone a bit tougher looking.”

Gavin scowled. This guy had intentionally alternated to speaking in a language Gavin could understand so that he would be able to hear the insult. Why was he being purposefully antagonistic? Yeah sure, Gavin was a criminal, but even Rael hadn’t been that big of a dick at first.

“Ashryn, I suppose you’re stationed here? Rael inquired. Gavin could tell he was trying to change the subject, to shift this “Ashryn” guy’s attention elsewhere.

“Why can’t he just tell this asshole to screw off?” Gavin thought to himself crankily. He tried to catch Rael’s eye but was unsuccessful. It was like he was very intentionally keeping his eyes up and forward.

“Hmm? Oh yes, that’s right,” Ashryn responded absentmindedly. He was apparently too preoccupied with staring at Gavin to give Rael his full attention.

What was it with these alteons and staring unabashedly? Just because Gavin was a comparatively tiny person from an alternate dimension didn’t mean they had the right to gawk at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. It was like all their manners flew out the window when it came to humans.

Ashryn stepped closer, a crafty smile still on his lips. “This is your first time dealing with a human up close, isn’t it?” he said to Rael while still not looking away from Gavin. “You don’t really realize how entirely inferior they are until you get close to them,” he continued. “Sure they look tiny and pathetic from afar, but up close you can really get a sense for how insignificant they are.”

Gavin really didn’t have a short temper, it was one of his few good traits actually. For the most part, he’d learned to just brush off insults and move on. He had given up on being well liked the moment he decided to become a thief. However, even Gavin’s temper had its limits, and he had just about reached his.

Springing to his feet, Gavin glared up at the massive elf-eared bastard standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

If this guy really wanted to insult Gavin and the rest of humanity so badly, why couldn’t he do it in his own native language? Oh yeah, because he was a complete ass. Ashryn didn’t just want to disparage humans, he wanted Gavin to know about it. For whatever reason, this alteon had decided he wanted to start a fight.

Next to Gavin, Rael had tensed up. The human hardly even noticed, he was too busy shooting daggers at Ashryn. Besides, Gavin was none too pleased with Rael at the moment anyways. He was basically just letting his comrade, or whatever they were to each other, run his mouth freely.

The grin on Ashryn’s face grew only wider at Gavin’s outburst. He took a step closer. “Rael, I think I’ve angered your little human,” he commented with a chuckle.

Gavin didn’t wait to see how Rael would’ve responded. Forget getting him to defend him. Who cared if Gavin was miniscule compared to Ashryn? He was going to stand up for himself. Someone needed to teach these giants some manners. Gavin was already in trouble, so it might as well be him.

“Okay you big, pointy-eared asshole,” he started with a bang. “Just because you’re bigger than humans doesn’t make you better than us--in fact with an attitude like yours, I’d argue you’re substantially worse than most humans I know...and I know some pretty shitty humans.” The words were flying out of his mouth almost of their own accord. It was like he’d opened a floodgate that he couldn’t close. “You’re clearly just a pompous dick who--”

“Enough!” The words echoed around him like thunder. At the same time there was a rush of air, a flash of movement, and then a thud that vibrated up through Gavin’s feet.

It took a moment for him to register the giant hand next to him, and a few more moments for him to realize it had just slammed down beside him. Gavin looked up, following the arm connected to the hand, expecting to see it attached to Ashryn. Instead, he was met with the rage filled face of Rael.

And then all of a sudden he was back in that clearing, pinned under a hand bigger than his entire body. The fear, the intimidation, the betrayal--it was all the same, probably even worse now actually. The worst part was that he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why Rael was staring down at him with nothing but fury in his teal colored eyes.

Despite their turbulent relationship, Gavin had...well he had come to trust Rael. For god’s sake, he’d nearly considered the alteon to be something akin to a friend. So why...why had this happened? How had Gavin screwed this up?

“You will show some respect,” Rael growled down at him, and it was like Gavin was looking at a completely different person to the one he’d been talking to only a few minutes ago.

Why had he been put in this situation? Why did the guard outside the office have to be Ashryn? Why did Gavin have to snap like that? These questions swirled around inside Rael’s head as he looked down at the fearful human standing mere inches away from where he’d slammed his palm down on the bench.

“You had to do it,” a dark part of Rael’s mind told him. “If you hadn’t, Ashryn would never respect you, and he’d defame you to the entire Imperial Guard.” It was true--if Rael had failed to scold the human that was in his charge after he’d blatantly insulted an alteon soldier, he would be viewed as a failure among anyone who was anyone. Still, he hadn’t enjoyed doing it.

It wasn’t like last time, when Rael had trapped Gavin under his hand. There was no sense of satisfaction or pleasure derived from the action. All he could feel was a mess of anger and guilt.

He was furious that Ashryn had essentially manufactured the situation, but he was also angry with Gavin for quite literally forcing his hand. If the human had just kept his mouth shut, if he’d ignored Ashryn’s goading, then none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t Gavin have just made things easier?

“Well,” Ashryn spoke up with an appreciative tut. “I must say, you certainly know how to put a human in their place.”

Rael shifted his gaze towards the alteon. He couldn’t stand looking at Gavin anymore, seeing the fear and betrayal in those hazel eyes only deepened the heavy pit that was forming in his stomach.

“And you apparently know how to rile them up,” Rael muttered as he moved his hand away from Gavin and placed it back on his own lap.

Ashryn gave an amused chuckle. “Maybe so,” he answered with a satisfied grin on his face.

Despite having a primarily amicable relationship with one another, Rael had never much liked Ashryn. While they were about the same age and had gone through most of their training at the same time, Ashryn was regarded more highly within the Imperial Guard. Rael attributed this largely due to the fact that Ashryn’s family has had a long history of involvement with the Guard. Perhaps that also explained why the man was so pompous and smug all the time.

It was then that the door to the Emperor’s office opened for a second time. This time, it was a group of some of the top Imperial advisors exiting. They all eyed Gavin as they passed, however none of them said anything, only acknowledging the two soldiers with brief nods. Rael noticed that the last advisor out failed to close the door behind her, leaving him with a view inside the office.

There, sitting at his desk, was the Emperor of the entire realm of Iaela. He wore a calm smile on lips and waved a beckoning hand at Rael. “Bring in our human guest,” he called, his tone authoritative yet somehow still polite.

Ashryn was quick to assume his position beside the office door. He stood up straight, his arms behind his back like a perfect soldier. However, the part that the Emperor wouldn’t be able to see was his face--with that, Ashryn smirked over at Gavin. “Why does he look like he knows something that we don’t?” Unfortunately, there was no time for Rael to ruminate on his uncertainties. The Emperor was the very last person to be kept waiting.

Rael turned to Gavin. The human had gone pale and his body was so tense that it looked like the guy might bolt at any second. Rael was sure that the last thing Gavin wanted was to be picked up after what had just happened. However, there was no choice. There wasn’t even time for Rael to allow the human to walk onto his palm of his own accord.

As gently as possible, Rael carefully scooped the human up into his hands. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t put up any kind of fight; he gave a quiet gasp, but otherwise made no audible complaints. Once Rael was sure he wouldn’t drop the little man, he began to make his way into the Emperor’s office.

Immediately upon getting past the doorway, Rael felt a whoosh of air and heard a soft thud, indicating that the door had been shut behind them. This left him and Gavin entirely alone with the most powerful person in the realm.

This wouldn’t be Rael’s first time speaking with the Emperor, however it was certainly his first time alone, without any advisors, scribes, or guards around. Rael swallowed hard. He couldn’t mess this up--he had to prove himself to be a proper soldier worthy of being accepted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. He wasn’t a peasant anymore, he was a proud, noble soldier.

“Rael, correct?” the Emperor inquired, the name sounded so foreign coming from his lips.

Rael nodded silently as he dipped into a low bow, which proved somewhat difficult while keeping his hands horizontal and steady for Gavin.

“Very well, Rael, could you place that human on my desk please?”

(Also, as a side note, I fixed up some continuity errors in chapters 6 and 9 if you feel like skimming through and seeing the minor adjustments)

#sometimes my own plot points just fly right out of my mind ig #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #g/t fearplay

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chicoriii · 4 years ago

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Season 4, Episode 22 - Éphémère (Ephemeral)

So Ephemeral is season 4 Chat Blanc, with much worse plot, but better animation (not the best level as for this show, but definitely better). This episode has some good moments, but it generally made me annoyed, especially because of its ending, as it seems to confirming my the biggest concern about this season. I don't even know where to start, I have too many chaotic thoughts in my head. So I'm so sorry in advance, as I know this post is not going to be well structured.

The episode itself is chaotic in the second half of it and the reason why the major events ever happened makes no sense. I can't take the entire episode really seriously when the most logical solution to the problem is much simpler.

Why Ladybug just could not arrange a meeting between Su-Han and Chat Noir, then leave them alone and let the cat Miraculous wielder to tell his identity to the Celestial Guardian? Why the creators treat audience of their own show like idiots? That's obvious solution of the problem "how to tell Su-Han identity of Chat Noir" without anyone else needing to know it in the process, I was just thinking about immediately after the Celestial Guardian agreed it will be enough to him. I'm sure kids would also see that. If I will ever watch this episode with my niece, I would stop it in that moment and I will ask what she thinks Ladybug should do now.

By the way, I've seen this in two parts, I started it on the 11th (it was Independence Day of Poland, so a day off work and school in my country), while watching I've got an offer to visit my brother and his family, which hasn't been planned before, and I came home late in the evening. I would have time to watch the whole episode, but not to write a post. Writing in English always takes me much more time than in my native language, especially since I knew that post about Ephemeral is going to be a very long one and I will also need some time to think about. I prefer to do that just after seeing the episode when it's still "fresh" in my head. This is mostly why I watch new episodes on the weekends usually. I mention that, because I've got interrupted in the moment in which Ladybug tells Luka she needs him for her plan. So I was thinking what the hell is going on, why she makes another complicated plan when arranging a meeting between Su-Han and Chat Noir is the most logical thing to do. There was also one more thing that has been bothering me that whole time, but it's for another paragraph.

Okay, then today I got the answer: Ladybug thinks he would not tell anyone except her. What? Is it supposed to be a believable explanation? Chat does whatever she tells him, if she explained him that someone needs to know his identity, he would understand. It's not that his dreamed scenario has a chance to happen, there's already someone who knows Ladybug's identity and he is aware of it, he would not be the first one anyway, so why he could have problem that she isn't the first person who learns his? I can see Adrien having some doubts to tell his identity to Luka or another "normal" person, but not Su-Han. He is the original guardian of the Mother Box after all! He has met him before, he knows he is the Celestial Guardian who already knows Ladybug identity, he could trust him. Not mention that Plagg could convince him that he isn't an impostor or something, just like Tikki and the other Kwamis did.

But the whole "arranging a meeting between them" wasn't an option taken into consideration by anyone, not even Luka, despite that was what Ladybug has done in Furious Fu. They made an effort to portray Luka as a smart guy who figured out all by himself why Ladybug and Chat Noir can't know identities of each other, but he also could not see that the cat wielder could just tell his identity to Su-Han directly? That's that much simple and there's really not need for a complicated and risky plan? This is another example of dumbing down the characters for the plot reasons.

Also letting Luka to know Chat's identity without even considering telling it to the cat wielder was an awful move towards him. Good it was undone, because Adrien definitely should be aware that Luka knows.

Another thing which bothers me is that Marinette just decided to trust Luka to know identity of Chat Noir of all sudden like it wasn't as much big deal as it was. Sorry, writers, I know you think you have convinced all us that they are very close to each other and she trusts him completely, but that's total bullshit. It's been portrayed like she is much closer to all girls from her class (minus Chloé and Lila of course) than she was ever to him. It's more like Marinette has never been treating her relationship with Luka really seriously, even when they were dating (forgetting their dates and what they are supposed to do etc.). And after their breaking up what she has been doing? She has been avoiding him until Crocoduel. If she really cared about their relationship (romantic or platonic, it doesn't matter), she would not want to avoid him in the first place. So how we are supposed to believe that he has no problem with him knowing identity of a superhero in possession of one of the ying-yang Miraculous?

So, if we're talking about Luka, at first I thought that this episode seems to confirm one of my biggest fears that Luka has learnt identities of both heroes mostly to make him look even better, even more "perfect" than ever before. And though I would not be surprised if it was really the reason, since I didn't think it's possible, but after watching this and few previous episodes, I have even more doubts if the writers really know what they are doing (I'm going to explain it in other paragraph I have roughly planned). There's still hinted that there are going to be bad consequences that Luka doesn't want to tell Ladybug he knows identities of her and Chat. I don't even mean that the repercussion of this episode could be easily avoided if he did. Ladybug told him that she doesn't want any superhero to know identities of both her and Chat at once because if they got akumatised, captured, or whatever, they both could get exposed. I can understand her logic (though I still have one big issue with it I'm going to mention later) and now when Luka is aware of it, he is that superhero who knows both identities, there's still no single thoughts in his head, that he should tell it to her. Luka fans can't justify his decision anymore. He knows identities of both and that's even more dangerous, since any of the guardians aren't aware of it.

Luka fans could raving about him being so ideal and selfless, helping Marinette with her "Adrien is Chat Noir" problem, and my first impression seeing the scene was: "Yeah, they definitely let Luka discover both identities to make him look even better, he deserves it, because he's most perfect guy in the world >____>". But then I realized that he still doesn't give up on Marinette, he only thinks he loves her even more knowing she's Ladybug. So I can't be sure he is really a genuine Adrienette shipper. He still has crush on her, but he isn't even a little jealous she's closer to be in a relationship with Adrien than ever before and he even helps them? Something is suspicious to me. As I said in one of my previous posts, no one could be as much selfless in a such situation without being negative affected by it, unrequited love always hurts. So either they are only trying to make an impression that Luka's completely fine with it, but in reality he's hoping that they will break up sooner or later due to their hero work or something, or he's just totally poorly written.

I don't believe that they made an original akuma design just for the episode in which he isn't the main enemy. I've been searching in the list of S4 episodes, there's no one titled Moolak, not in both English and French. He still could be reakumatised in season 5 because of those stupid mega akumas, but that's still weird.

Also Ladybug called all the heroes (minus Rena for obvious reasons), though not everyone was needed but whatever, just to beat him and there are no thoughts that she should appreciate him Chat Noir and trust him more.

My another big issue with this episode is that the creators try to pretend like the whole big Ladynoir conflict is not happening, we're not in the middle of it, Adrien isn't starting having doubts about their partnership. In the whole episode there is no sign of it, maybe outside of that little moment in which Chat seems to be somewhat upset that Ladybug doesn't want to tell him why she wanted to meet with him on the Eiffel Tower before. This episode made me realize even stronger that the writing team has a tendency to ignore consequences of the events or characters' actions from the previous episodes when they are not a theme of an episode they are writing. Sorry, but they can't write a good and believable story doing that as often as they do it, especially in crucial moments. It only makes me even more convinced that season 4 is the most inconsistently and illogical written in the history of this show.

In episode 16, Ladybug had betrayed his trust in her that badly for the first time not telling him that she is going to have a replacement, in the 17th one, he is angry discovering that she lets Alya and Nino to know their identities (so not everyone needs to keep her own rules, she has double standards), but after that everything is like nothing happened. In all the next episodes their partnership seems to be as good as before Alya saga, as she's not there, so "Ladybug ignoring Chat when Rena is around" is not happening.

Adrien magically forgot that he has seen strong evidences that Ladybug is not trusting him in reality, she's not treating him as her real partner anymore, there's a person she trusts way much more than him, to the point she told her her identity and entrust with the ladybug Miraculous? He isn't wondering what the hell is going on and he is still raving that she's the most outstanding person in the whole world (by the way, his declaration after telling and showing her who he is, was way too long and pseudo-poetic, I liked his confession in Chat Blanc way more, it was more simple but because of that more natural)? THIS. MAKES. NO. FUCKING. SENSE. I completely don't buy it, sorry.

Something similar happened with "I can't have a boyfriend as long as I'm Ladybug". It mattered only in two episodes, like the whole drama happened only to make Marinette telling her identity to Alya in one of the most weak moment of her. But after that, it's like her fear has magically gone, she's continuing making googly eyes at Adrien and planning to get a date with him.

I have an impression this episode exists mostly because they thought: "Hey, there's going to be the 100th episode in season 4, so we need to make it special, but that's not finale, so it can't be a resolution of the main conflict in the season, so why we don't do another Chat Blanc-like episode, but this time with Marinette learning the identity of Chat first" and that's completely not a bad thing in my opinion. Most of the fandom seem to hate undone identity reveals, they just want to see the real one now, not the fake ones, but personally I love them. I loved Oblivio and Chat Blanc, I love seeing different scenarios of "how the Identity Reveal™ could happen" and I would not mind more episodes like that. Or rather I was not mind that prior release of eps 13-17 (minus 15), now I can't just enjoy interesting Love Square content like before anymore for reasons mentioned in many of my previous posts. Good they didn't kiss, only hugged in this episode.

But okay, I'm going to try to be like a Miraculous creator for a moment, ignoring that Ladynoir drama exists, that there are episodes in which Marinette treats Chat Noir like a shit, while Adrien is starting losing his absolute trust in her. And forget that I really dislike season 4 Marinette.

The episode shows big(gest) difference between them: Marinette sees Adrien and Chat Noir as two completely different persons, while for Adrien she and Ladybug are very similar to each other. But I can't blame her for that: he isn't completely himself publicly, no matter which self he is in a moment, minus when he is alone or with Plagg, Kagami and maybe Nino as well. But definitely not when he's in public or with Marinette\Ladybug. His Adrien self and Chat self are two extremes: the first is too reserved, the second too crazy. The "real" him is a mix between these two extremes, not only Adrien-self or Chat Noir-self. Marinette had no possibility to see that, since she's still too afraid of being close to him, so he could not to show her his more Chat-y side. While Adrien had chances to see Marinette acting like Ladybug (and rarely Ladybug behaving like Marinette, see the Origins and the clumsy Bug moment). No wonder that's much easier to see resemblances between them two to him and not only easily accepting but also being happy discovering his classmate and Ladybug are the same person. Adrien just started acts like Chat extreme out of nowhere in public after telling Ladybug his identity, which wasn't a wise thing to do, as it could make him too obvious.

It's not showed completely clear, but it mostly seems that this time Adrien and Marinette were dating completely in a secret, maybe even Alya and Nino were not aware of it. I've seen many people claiming that everything would be fine in Chat Blanc, if they had kept their relationship in a secret. Éphémère shows it's not that simple, as long as Shadow/Hawk Moth is not beaten, it can't happen. That's far-fetched that Gabriel just decided to visit his son out of nowhere in a moment when Adrien has a phone call with his secret girlfriend, but I can ignore it, as it's not that much a big deal. That's another moment in which the creators are trying to tell us: don't expect the real reveal much before the final battle against the villain which will most probably happen at the end of season 5.

Many people thinks that Chat Blanc should be two-parter, but I have never agreed with it. Personally I would not add more than 5-10 minutes to it, and in my opinion "wanting more" is a lot better for that episode than "getting too much". If it was two-parter, the story would be too padded out, the whole thing would not be as much atmospheric. I also don't think Ephemeral has material for two episodes, but have more issues with its pacing, there are too many things happening chaotically in the second half. It's harder to keep track of the events than in Chat Blanc.

I always wanted to see Adrien being akumatised, more than return of Chat Blanc, so I'm very disappointed that he wasn't there for so long, there wasn't even a real battle between Ephemeral and Ladybug. Chat Blanc was much cooler, creepy and interesting. Ephemeral wasn't doing anything other than blindly following orders of his father. He even hasn't been trying to fight with akumatisation as long as Chat Blanc. That felt so anticlimactic in comparison. Not mention that the design was so dull.

But I think that the cat suit of Gabriel is... interesting. I don't know how to describe my feelings about it exactly, he looks so weird but in good sense, disturbing, creepy. It seems like it was supposed to be a fusion between the cat, butterfly and peacock Miraculous, but it resembles only cat, still I can deal with it, as long as he looks as cool.

I know I can't take timeline of this show too seriously, as it's very inconsequent from the start, but Gabriel told it's been 100 weeks since disappearance of Emilie Agreste. A year has 52 weeks and one day (or two in it's a leap year), which means that's also been almost two years since Marinette and Adrien got their Miraculous. So maybe we could expect their 15th birthdays in season 5. I want to see a proper birthday party for Adrien. If only I will still watch the show. ;)

If something as much chaotic happens when Sass is using his power on his own, I can't imagine what could when Fluff is doing the same. Her power is more powerful, so the time should go wild even more. I loved seeing ladybug Miraculous wielder from the past, now we need to get a cat one as well.

I'm so pleasantly surprised that we got a chance to see full transformation sequences of the space power ups. There are so short, but very nice and they look so different. Definitely it was one of the coolest moments of the entire episode to me. If I would ever want to draw Cosmobug and Astrochat again, I have finally some good material to make reference screenshots.

At the end, I write about my the biggest issue with the whole thing. It's like this episode is confirming my the biggest fear: that they are trying to convince as that Marinette is an amazing guardian, that's Su-Han who is in wrong here, she has done absolutely nothing wrong as a guardian. That's bullshit, Marinette is a poorly guardian, who has done too many reckless things and the only reason why Shadow Moth hasn't won yet is an extremely strong plot armor, dumbing down Gabriel every time when Marinette does something awfully stupid.

I really have no idea what's going on with Su-Han, is that the first time when he shows up since Furious Fu episode, or he was supposed to appears more times? It's been hinted that he had problems with Marinette guarding more times. I understand his fear of Chat Noir using his power for wrong reasons, he definitely knows about evil cat wielders. But that's so annoying seeing him showing up just because Chat Noir hasn't appeared in the battle for the first time since he's supposed to observe the new guardian, but he hasn't done that even once when Marinette let Alya to do whatever she wants. Chat Noir is not a issue, the fox wielder is, or rather how much Marinette is dealing recklessly with her. She has no control over what's Alya is doing with her power. She lets her to take a Miraculous without asking permission, she gives her a Miraculous permanently despite her identity has been exposed etc. I have written my issues with it so many times in other posts.

I'm still hoping that Su-Han really doesn't know what's Marinette is doing with Alya, he doesn't know that the fox is absent in the Miracle Box. If there are not going to be repercussion of that whole mess, I'm not sure if I will continue watching this show after season 4. There are only four episodes left that take place after Ephemeral, two "normal" and the finale. There's not much time to try to fix it, to shows that Marinette's blind trusts in Alya is not a wise thing, that she needs to know who is the guardian in their relationship. Alya has no rights to do anything Miraculous related without letting Marinette know about her plans first, she is not allowed to do anything without the guardian permission!!!

Besides, that makes Marinette so short-minded, because she doesn't see that Alya's situation is way more serious. Alya knows much more than just Ladybug's identity. Marinette treats her like a co-guardian. her best friend has access to all the information from the spellbook that the guardian has, as well as to the Miracle Box. If she got akumatised, she could reveal everything she knows to Shadow Moth (Marinette most probably is not aware that he also has an access to some of the decrypted informations made by Fu) and bring him the Miracle Box, or tell him where he could find it.

Do you see why I have hardly any faith in the writers that things like Ladynoir drama are going anywhere? Maybe we will see resolution of the Ladynoir conflict in the finale, but the issues with Alya needs to be addressed before season 4 ends as well. And the problem with Luka knowing what he is not supposed to.

I don't get why at the end of the episode Su-Han didn't learn Chat identity. From the start I think he definitely should, since he is also the guardian. I'm against "normal" people knowing identities of the ying-yang heroes (at this point of the story), but Su-Han should want to know who Chat Noir is, no matter he trusts him and/or Ladybug or not. I really don't like how they are writing him. He has much potential that is getting wasted. I'm asking, why isn't he training Marinette to be a proper guardian? That's another thing that makes me angry.

This is why if I only could write stories decently, I would made my own version of season 4 in which Alya and Luka don't discover the ying-yang heroes identities, there's no stupid Ladynoir drama, but Su-Han becomes a real mentor for Marinette after their initial problems, Chat Noir supports Ladybug emotionally, since she tells him some things about being a guardian and Miraculous lore those are safe to say without risking revealing her identity, and Marinette and Adrien really develops their friendship. No romance for some time, only building of their friendship and partnership simultaneously in both of their lives. Is there anyone who likes my rough concept of alternative version of season 4?

----

In conclusion, I would enjoy Ephemeral much more if the reason why Marinette decided that they should reveal their identities would be written differently to actually makes any sense and if the episodes 13, 14, 16 and 17 didn't happen. It still would be worse than Chat Blanc, but it would feel much better.

#miraculous ladybug #ml ephemeral #ml season 4 #ml spoilers #ml spoiler #ml season 4 spoilers #chicoriii about S4 episodes #chicoriii #original post

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csykora · 4 years ago

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A thought about meaningful change

I don’t want to distract from the most recent thing Benn did. I’m going to be talking about several different things, and some might seem smaller than others: I know. I’m not saying that the newest thing isn’t important enough on its own or that everything’s on the same level. But I think patterns can be useful.

(I have also made myself sick with nerves a couple times so I’m posting this as is: sorry for typos, and while I’ll stand behind my ideas there may be some sentences that are a little long or awkwardly worded).

Back in 2015, Jame Benn and Tyler Seguin were doing a radio interview.

Some of you might be thinking, “You want to talk about THIS, AGAIN?” Yes. More of you are probably thinking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yeah, that’s what I want to talk about.

cw for discussions of sexual harassment, incest, homophobia, bullying, misogyny and transmisogyny, transphobia

So during this interview, one of the radio hosts asked Benn if he and his brother were ever road roommates. Benn said no, and the host commented that Henrik and Daniel Sedin probably roomed together.

“Well yeah…that’s the Sedins,” Seguin said.

“Who knows what else they do together?" Benn said. Everyone laughed.

“Seriously,” Seguin said.

"Dude, it's creepy," the radio hosts said, "In fact, it's a good example to future brothers in the NHL on how not to do things." Then they reassured Benn, “In no way am I implying that you have a Sedin-type vibe going about you.”

Benn and Seguin laughed. The conversation continued, calling the Sedins creepy for wearing similar facial hair, leaving nearby and spending too much time together.

When asked pointblank, “Are the Sedins weird?” Benn answered, “I don’t know. I can’t say.”

To finish the sentence he didn’t: he was implying that the Sedin brothers fuck each other.

Now, these were shock jockeys. They were almost certainly hoping Benn and Seguin would say something homophobic. That said, even shock jockeys pre-screen an interview. They’re not going to invite just anyone on the air and try this with them, because all it takes is someone saying, “I don’t know what you mean,” or “No, I actually respect Dan and Henke a lot as my colleagues” to ruin that set up. If a shock jockey thinks you’re a mark, you’ve probably said something off-air that made them think you’re a mark. And if they dug a pit in front of him, Benn is still the one who decided to stick his dick in it and make things overtly sexual.

After, the Stars stated that Benn had “reached out” the Sedins to apologize. Seguin did not reach out but was “included” in whatever Benn wrote or said. Neither of them gave a public explanation or apology. As far as I can tell the Sedins never commented on whether they received that message, what sort of apology it was, or whether they accepted it. Henrik Sedin’s only comment was, “I think it says more about them than it does about us.”

Ways that homophobia is working here:

-the idea that two men having any degree of physical or emotional closeness, even family members, is suspicious.

-Benn roomed with his brother. Course he did. The hosts spell out what he was afraid of: that the other men in the room might think he had the wrong vibe. He was so afraid of them thinking he had unmanly vulnerabilities like liking his own brother that he misrepresented the situation and pushed someone else forward.

-the idea that a man having any relationship to another man’s physical body or appearance, is suspicious.

Dressing or looking too similar to another man—which means you’ve paid attention to how another man’s body looks in order to copy him, like you’re trying to take ownership of his body, which = fucking him—is a really common accusation. Gay men are seen as lusting after and trying to copy other men’s real masculinity for themselves (but of course never quite succeeding). A man thinking that another man who he knows or suspects to be gay looks too similar to him, and so must have been watching and ‘copying’ him, is a common spark for homophobic attacks.

-the idea that any of this could have been a joke depends on the idea that two men having sex is wacky and unrealistic. Imagine if that happened, wouldn’t that be weird.

Now, someone might say, “It’s not that gay sex is wacky, it’s that the incest that is!” First, incest accounts for a lot of childhood sexual abuse, so I wouldn’t say it’s wacky either. And while it’s true that people can say awful things to different gender twins as well out of a combination of gender prejudices, in this case there were also homophobic ideas about men and masculinity at play.

Ways that power is working here:

-People forgot this fast. It was treated as settled because the Stars said it was settled. People gave “kudos” to Benn “doing the right thing” afterward, or for seeming to realize what was happening and not saying yes to the final question.

I would argue that “I don’t know, I can’t say” is somehow a worse answer to a yes-or-no question, because it means that either you want to say yes but you’re scared of the consequences, or you sincerely don’t know what to say. All he had to do was say “No.” After he said “I don’t know,” Seguin continued and said, “They are weird.” If Benn had said, “No, actually they’ve been professional when I’ve worked with them and I won’t comment any more on their personal life,” Sequin might have noticed, and Benn might have encouraged him to change his behavior. Not saying “no” was a direct, demonstrable failure to show any kind of leadership.

-This counts as workplace sexual harassment. I’m not saying a case should have been pursued: that should have been at least partly up to the Sedins (although there should also be workplace rules about what is and isn’t acceptable without the victims having to ask for it). But that’s a word we can use for this, this could have been counted as that. Sexual harassment are actions based on a person’s gender, assigned sex, sexual activity, or other qualities related to sex, not just sexual attraction. I worry that often, conflicted feelings about putting people into the category of “Sexual Harasser” lead people to think that actions “aren’t bad enough” to be sexual harassment when they definitionally can be. In other lines of work, if you talk about your coworkers fucking their twins in the office, there are rules about that: at the very least, you’ll be getting a bunch of trainings and be moved to a part of the office where you won’t see them again.

In the NHL, it seems frighteningly clear that people don’t have recourse for sexual harassment. This was discussed and handled as a “childish insult”, not harassment against two coworkers/employees. Often, there’s a logic that something is just an insult, not a ‘real’ threat, because the person who did it couldn’t possibly be sexually attracted to the person they did it to.

-In 2015 Eric and Jordan Staal were living in identical houses outside Raleigh and ‘playing’ together every night. Seems super suspicious. Unless beefy Canadian boys’ behavior is normal, and European masculinity always has to be questioned as being softer-spoken, slimmer, more intellectual, scared of heavy hitting. There are a lot of reasons you might not call Eric Staal gay—maybe you know he’s bigger than you, more successful on Team Canada than you, more popular with the other Team Canada guys than you. Or maybe you just don’t look at him and think he could be gay. Or both. Eric is positioned so you’d have to punch up at him: Benn tried to position himself closer to that kind of social standing, by pushing someone else who already doesn’t quite fit in further out. This isn’t directly in the words, so I’m not all-out accusing them of xenophobia: what I mean is that it’s always worth asking if and how and why feminization is applied to Those Other People.

There’s the eating out thing. Which he sent to teammate Jason Demers, commenting “I feel like your (sic) the kind of guy who would”.

How misogyny is working here:

-the idea that this could have been funny or interesting or worth saying at all depends on the idea that vulvas are weird. Imagine if someone willing touched a cis woman with anything but their dick. Gosh.

-There’s no good explanation for what ‘the kind of guy who would’ was meant to mean. No one says, ‘Hey, do you do this widely mocked sex act? I don’t, but I think you would, and that’s cool and doesn’t affect your masculinity at all, bro, life is a rich tapestry.’

How power is working here:

-This counts as sexual harassment again. Even if asking a coworker (or really more like someone you shift-manage or who reports to you) ‘how do you fuck your partner?’ wasn’t, saying ‘you seem like you would do ___’ is. Again, I’m not saying that Demers has to feel that way about it, but he should have had options.

-Demers was also in a new relationship at the time, so this could be harassment to both him and his partner, who had no recourse when someone her partner has to work with/for comments on her body.

-I don’t think it was intended as sexual harassment. But there’s not really a nice explanation of what he meant to say. It seems like it was intended as an insult or a ‘warning’: ‘this is the way men are allowed and no allowed to be in our group, do you know your place?’

Around that time, the Stars shared a video of Benn, Seguin, and Valeri Nichushkin. Each were supposed to say a couple lines, including their name. Valeri pronounced his nickname ‘Vall’, with a native Russian accent, more like “Wall” in English. Each time Benn and Seguin laughed and questions him and the producer cut. After a couple takes Benn said, “I thought your name was ‘Val.’”

Sequin physically turned away from Nichushkin and laughed. Nichushkin, not understanding the comment, and not laughing, turned to Benn for an explanation, but Benn only turned toward Seguin, both continuing to laugh.

It was part of a pattern of comments from observers: “If Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn are having a laugh in the locker room, Nichushkin can only guess what’s so funny.” They themselves commented on how “His English is really not good at all…A lot of times we find him just sitting there.” “(In) normal conversations, he doesn’t really know what’s going on.”

I’ll give them credit—they said they felt pity and “try to help” too. I just can’t find any examples of them doing it, compared to teammates like Sharp or Spezza who can more concretely describe spending time with him.

Nichushkin chose to burn contract time in the KHL rather than Dallas before being bought out, expressing that he no longer felt like he “belonged in the NHL.” He felt that the Stars didn’t “trust” in him, was “nervous” in the locker room, and said his family worried for his mental health because of the culture.

“There is a bit of it because I want to be part of the conversation when someone says something,” Nichushkin said. “But I don’t have enough words I know so I can join in.”

-Is it the worst xenophobia in the world? Nah. It’s not free from xenophobia, when the only joke is that someone speaks differently than you. It’s not Benn joking about his own misunderstanding to invite Nichushkin in. I often point to Tripp Tracy, who asks players to teach him words in their language and then sets up jokes about his accent so they can deliver the punchline and laugh with him.

-Is it bullying? It kind of came off like it, to make a joke about someone you know can’t understand. At least it was unnecessary, and unkind. It’s just reminding someone they don’t belong.

-It’s unimpressive. It’s deflecting. Oh, he doesn’t know what’s going on? What did you do to tell to him? My family communicate through a mix of finger-signing, Scrabble tiles, and interpretive dance: I guarantee you, if you can’t communicate concepts like “we’re going to get dinner now, you’re welcome here, we’re having fun!”, you’re not trying. Which is fine, I guess, you don’t have to talk to people, unless it’s like, your job to work with your teammates.

Wanting to ban trans*feminine athletes from competition is based on a complete misunderstanding of math, medicine, and athletics; it’s unnecessary, unethical, and unkind.

It’s an unsurprising continuation of the ideas that there’s a line between men and women and transgressing it is suspicious, that women are gross, that people who are different are shocking and funny, that social pressure can and should be used to remind people who are different that they don’t belong.

It’s a fascist use of power, which I don’t say to mean that “He is A Fascist in every sense,” but that those beliesf express a desire and a comfort with using power to control other people’s bodies, and which bodies have access to certain spaces, to maintain “purity”.

I’m not saying that anyone should have looked at any of these things and easily decided in that moment, “That’s it, he’s shouldn’t have a platform or power over other players, he’s irredeemable.” You might look at a couple of them and think, “That’s not even a problem at all.” I’ll agree to disagree on some of them, but my point is about a pattern of how this dude uses the power he’s given.

I have a phrase, or more a series of words I sometimes yell when I’m talking about subjects like this—“STRUCK A TIM HORTONS.” I shout this in commemoration of the time that Ryan O’Reilly got drunk and drove his pickup into the wall of a small town Ontario Timmies.

“Struck a Tim Hortons” is a very good phrase to read in a police report. And, also, I’m an ACoA. I’ve experienced impaired driving, I’m terrified to shaking of it, and I know that other people have experienced much worse consequences. This isn’t a perfect metaphor (it’s not an example of prejudice or violence against a class of people, etc) but my point is that I try to hold it in my heart because that’s one case where I know what it’s like to really, really want something to just be NBD. Where part of me wants to just think it was a funny mistake so I don’t have to really think about the serious implications of it, and part of me super doesn’t. I have an instinct to resolve those feelings, to come down and decide that it’s either insignificant enough that I don’t have to think about it, or significant enough that I can hate him and then also stop thinking about it, and then I can have the relief of feeling just one feeling at a time.

I don’t think it’s bad to feel conflicted learning something about someone. I think it’s important.

But the problem is that if one thing isn’t significant enough, and we decide to keep thinking someone is fundamentally Good, we often toss that thing out. So when another thing happens, we only look at the new thing, trying to decide: is this enough? And that next thing might not be enough either. So we can go on and on, until you add up to a lot of things that have each done some harm, but none of them have been enough to change how we see and talk about someone.

Now I, personally, decided that the Timmies wasn’t so bad that ROR couldn’t ever make it up to me. But I didn’t decide to feel fine about it: I tried to just put a pin in how conflicted I felt. It’s been years, and over the years I think his actions have showed meaningful change. He hasn’t struck a Starbucks, a Dunkin, or even a Caribou. There’s a pattern.

I think a lot of people who don’t really like the things Benn says or does or believes have given him a lot of chances to make up for them, because they don’t want him to really mean those things. By which I really mean that I know there are a lot of women and queer fans who liked the guy. I get it (I don’t actually get it get it, but I mean I can try to understand people coming from a very different place than I do about him).

I’ve read a lot of ways that people who are themselves vulnerable in our society try to empathize with him by imagining him as vulnerable too--he’s also experienced fatphobia, homophobia, he wasn’t expected to succeed, etc! I think that’s a wonderfully human instinct. But often I think people have more empathy for those experiences than he expresses for himself--he agrees that it was Bad to be fat and he’s Worked Hard to fit into the masculine norm, he agrees that it’s Bad to be close with another man and works to avoid it--and certainly more than he has showed in his actions toward others. If you’re going to say I hate him for saying that, I don’t--I want him and everyone in our society not to feel and do this shit!

I see a lot of people starting from the idea he is a good leader trying really hard to spin his choices as a smart strategy when he plays dumb with media, when he doesn’t give specific action plans or give public statements or apologies. (I actually agree with the first one, I think it is a strategy for him to avoid transparency and not do a part of his job that he doesn’t want to do.) It just…it seems like a lot of work to reach a pre-determined goal. It’s okay to like someone and for them to still not be good at their jobs! When I say I think a guy’s not a good leader, that’s not always the same as saying he’s a bad person. And if we keep on promoting a guy as a good leader because we like them regardless of their demonstrated leadership skills…that’s how we end up with a lot of shitty policies in the NHL.

Over the years he has consistently avoided stepping up to his captaincy and using his personal power to say things like, “No,” “Tyler, cut it out,” “This is what I’m going to do to fix a problem,” or “I believe in…” anything, really.

I really, really want to ask people to be mad as hell and advocate for the NHL to improve its code of conduct and harassment processes. I do. But I’m also tired. I don’t think, if I did ask you that, it would work. I don’t have an argument for why you should be mad at someone who’s mad at my existence. I’m not trying. I just want to encourage you, if you’re feeling the tug of feelings and just want to be able to simplify someone’s behavior and love them in simple terms, to put a pin in the more complicated parts, and remember them the next time, and look for patterns.

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couchpotatoaniki · 4 years ago

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One Year ❣︎ Two: Plotting and Planning

Chapter Summary: You finally arrive at Jeju Island, but there’s trouble in paradise between you and Dominic.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, stalking, cheating Word count: 2.7k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter One For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

You wanted to punch him square in the face.

Dominic was pushing your buttons beyond what you could handle, and you had no idea what had gotten into him. Never this bad when it came to his attention. Never did he make you feel this annoyed.

Jeju was a nice place--just as beautiful as you had imagined--but the flight was fairly long so none of you went sight seeing the day you landed. Skipped off to the hotel room for some much needed rest, you most of all.

Though you had a weird sense, chills running up your spine occasionally and funny feelings at the back of your head, you tried to shove it aside. Work was not meant to make it’s way while you were all on your holiday.

Not to mention, your boyfriend was talking once again to his colleagues and friends, not paying mind to you as you hauled the rest of the luggage around the large airport and hotel.

You were tired. You felt not normal. He was being a dick.

So it all had started off on the wrong foot. Still time left to change it around, right?

Then Dominic decided it would be great to take up most of the hotel bed--probably because it was so comfy, whereas he only had half of the bed back at home.

Eventually, you were too tired to put up with this behaviour so you got up and walked to Seonghwa’s and Yeosang’s room.

“The fuck, why are you here?” Yeosang mumbled, half-asleep himself.

Caught the rapid pitter-patters of water running in the background, which must’ve been Seonghwa. “How long’s he been in the shower?” You asked since he generally takes quite a long time.

“Just got in,” he answered, moving aside as you pushed through the doorway with a lazy glare resting on your face.

“Good. Stealin’ his bed,” was all you said before flopping onto the nearest double bed--still as comfortable as the king sized you were supposed to share--and knocking out right there on the spot.

Yeosang ruffled his silvery-grey hair, sighing. “His bed was the other one...”

The next day was a little more manageable.

The sleep definitely helped your patience level, though Seonghwa was a little annoyed that he had to share the night with Yeosang.

Granted, when you explained everything in the morning over some food from the breakfast buffet, he understood.

You were like a little sister to him. Sure, he took you under his wing a little less than five years ago, taught you his trade, polished you up to be the best of the best, he still grew fond of you.

An older brother you never had, and acting as such, he was highly sceptical when you brought a boy to the dinner table. Dominic, you had introduced.

Never liked him since. Sucked it up only for you, but his patience too was tested often by comments that were made and outlandish behaviour that was presented. No, Seonghwa didn’t like him one bit.

“Well,” he began, taking a bite of a golden, buttered croissant, “if you start feeling uncomfortable again, just pop over to our room and I’ll kick Yeosang out.”

You chuckled at the thought. “He’ll rip him to shreds.”

“Who? Yeosang or Dom?” Threw a pointed look in his direction, as if to ask him if he actually did just say that. “Okay, okay,” Seonghwa laughed as he almost spat out his orange juice, “I knew you meant Yeosang.”

“Happy birthday, dipshit!” Mingi’s voice boomed from behind, as the rest began to join the two of you. His long arms wrapped around your shoulders as he squeezed you in a bone-crushing hug.

“Happy birthday to you too, douchebag,” you squeaked out. The other boys had settled down, wishing you both a happy birthday--Dominic giving you a little kiss too.

Tried to hold back the smirk fighting its way onto your lips as you saw Seonghwa openly grimacing in your peripheral. “Where were you last night, babe?”

You never particularly liked it, that nickname. ‘Babe’...

“You’re asking that now?” Playfully teasing, though there was a slight hint of venom. None of which he picked up on. “I was with Seonghwa and Yeosang.”

“Really?” Dominic’s brow lifted, the judgement of you spending a night in two other men’s room clearly written in his expression.

“Yes, really,” you replied, less playful since he should have known by now that all of you were strictly friends. Neither passion nor romance was held for either the black-haired clean-freak and the grumpy introvert.

Has never been since you were all like family.

“Okay then,” he sighed, sitting beside you with his plate of a heavy breakfast.

The boys stayed quiet throughout the exchange, noticing everything going on but not saying a word. Knew that you could handle it better on your own.

San, on the other hand, was fuming. Although he was not close enough to hear a word any of you said--not that it would matter since he couldn’t understand it anyway--the boy could see the feelings of annoyance brew in your mind.

Hongjoong had his hand on his friend’s shoulder, preventing him from walking up and doing something he would regret. “Look, you don’t know what’s being said, so just give it a rest and enjoy your toast.”

“Joong, I can’t enjoy my toast, especially if he’s said something that makes her upset. I’ll floor the fucker, I swear--”

“San,” the blur-haired boy warned in a low tone, “eat your toast.”

One of his strengths would be that San knew when to back off. Sure, it came to a much bigger challenge when you were involved, apparently, but he still had listened to his second-in-command. “Fine. I’ll eat it, but I won’t like it.”

Hongjoong had not said another word to him, still pissed off about what his boss had pulled last night. Flying over had drained energy out of him, no matter how many times he did it, so all he wanted to do was to go to the villa, greet Jongho and Wooyoung, and then go to sleep.

That was it.

But no. San decided he had to chase you to this hotel. This hotel which was less luxurious than the villa and the food was sub-par at best. Not to mention he kept pacing about the room that was supposed to be opposite yours and your boyfriend’s, worried how you left the room and went into a different one.

Hongjoong had to stop him from bugging the rooms or even go pounding the door so hard it knocked down.

Seeing his boss and friend like this had him beyond concerned, since this was the first time it’s ever gotten to this degree.

In fact, he was so concerned, he had to update the two other boys about it--without San’s knowledge.

Wooyoung had told him to bring San to the villa as soon as possible--by tomorrow night, no matter what--but the man in question appeared to have other plans.

Throughout the day, San became more calculated in his movements (particularly when it seemed that you were on alert of some strange presence by the side glances you gave in their general direction). “We're going back to the villa tomorrow night.”

To hear that was a bit of a shock, especially when he had planned for the same thing. “What are you gonna do?”

“Sweep her off her feet, of course,” San smirked, devious little cogs in his head turning.

Ruffling his hair as he looked over at you and your friends--sat down in the tent lounge for your celebratory dinner--Hongjoong shuddered slightly at the ominous tone.

Clinking of a fork against glass, Dominic grabbed the attention of everyone, including the bystanders around him. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a piece of of paper with words scribbled on.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, surprisingly in Korean rather than the language you all communicated in--though it wasn’t perfect, he was still trying. San was glad, now able to understand what was being said.

“Today is a special day, because it is the birthday of two very special people. One of which is my lovely girlfriend. So I would like to embarrass her by preparing this speech, to let everyone know this wonderful woman is mine.”

The mafia boss didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit.

“I’m so glad you were born, because life wouldn’t have been as fun without you, and you’re certainly very special in not only my heart, but the rest of the boys as well.”

It wasn’t only San who was unhappy about this speech. This wasn’t just your birthday, it was Mingi’s as well, yet he was written off. So, before Dominic could conclude his speech, you stood up, interjecting him.

“Thank you, for that nice speech. But I also want to congratulate my childhood friend, for it’s his birthday today too.” You lifted your glass to cheer the giant. “If it weren’t for you, God knows where I would be, if I would even be alive. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count and for that, I’ll forever be eternally grateful.”

Hearing you speak such good Korean had--for some bizarre reason--made San’s heart skip a beat of two. Even as your accent shone, the pronunciation was close to flawless.

Yet Dominic was not feeling so proud. Yes, it was Mingi’s birthday too, but that speech was for you. Interrupting him was almost as if you were putting Mingi before him. Before your boyfriend.

As the chocolate cake topped with sparklers was brought out by the staff and people around you started to sing ‘happy birthday’ in Korean (your friends being the loudest), you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were being watched again. But what was worse, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Dominic was going to do something dumb tonight.

“Excuse me,” you said as you stood up in the middle of dinner, when everything went back to normal.

“And where are you going, little missy?” Yunho asked as he moved his long legs to let you get past.

“Bathroom,” was all you said as you went by, needing to freshen up after feeling so... odd. Confined under the eyes of people you didn’t know.

The night had brought itself a particularly cold wind, rushing past your black chiffon dress. “Crap,” you cursed, “should’ve brought a thicker coat.”

Each turn you made, you became increasingly confused as to where you were. This place was like a damn maze. “Should’ve probably asked for directions too.”

“Are you lost, babygirl?” a deep voice asked you in English, cocky tone evident in the way the words rolled off his tongue. You turned to see the man who had just dared to call you that, ready to thump him in the face with a nearby plant pot, but when you saw his face, a sense of familiarity washed over you.

This was the guy. He's eyes were following you since you came off the plane--you could feel it in your bones.

“No thanks, you replied back in English, “I’m perfectly fine.”

And you turned around, not capturing the devilish smirk growing across San’s face as he watched you powerfully walk off in some random direction, not knowing if it was towards the bathroom.

But he didn’t need to know that, did he?

“Where’s Dom?” Mingi pondered as he looked around, realising it was oddly peaceful in the area.

“Not a clue,” you shrugged, “he’s been gone all night. Disappeared after dinner.”

While Yeosang, Yunho, and Seonghwa went swimming in the hotel pool, hearing their yells of ‘Marco!’ and ‘Polo!’, you and your childhood friend opted for sunbathing on colourful lounge chairs.

“Since when the fuck do you not have a clue? Plus, we all saw how that dickhead was eyefucking that random hoe at the dinner.”

“I really don’t wanna think about it. After all, it’s our birthday and I don’t wanna ruin the mood by thinking of the things he’s probably doing.”

Propping himself on his elbows, he took off his sunglasses to look at you. “Bastard’s cheating on you and you’re not gonna do anything?”

“Oh no, I’m definitely going to bring pain upon his ass like never before, but right now is not the time. Besides, it’s not as if we ever loved each other. And I finally got a good night’s sleep.” You placed your hand over his in a reassuring way, but it did nothing much.

Your response had Mingi biting his bottom lip, worried. “Hearing you talk like that scares me sometimes, ya know?”

“After everything I went through, you still think I’m going to be who I was?” You opened your eyes, peering over at him with eyes so cold that there was only one situation he would see them. “Do you still fucking think with all the shit that the five of us do, I’d still be a person who believes in mercy or love?”

Sighing, he lay back down with his sunglasses covering his eyes once more. “You’re right, it’s dampening the mood. What are you planning to do between now and dinner? Any particular place you wanna visit?”

Contemplating, you hummed as you thought of what to do next. “Maybe visit the stone park? Looked beautiful enough in the pictures,” you sighed, “What do you think? Your birthday too, ya know?”

The tall man shot a boyish grin your way. “Sounds great--”

“Hey!” The two of you turned your head to look at Dominic, who had trudged towards you in flip-flops. When he bent down to peck your cheek, you made no move whatsoever, internally cringing at the feel of his dirtied lips against your skin.

“And where were you?” you inquired, clearly not pleased with this. He hadn’t even bothered to hide the lingering scent of fruity perfume of the random woman he spent the night with.

Though there was something very much off about him since this isn’t something he would do, you will never excuse his disloyal behaviour.

“Oh, I went to Hallim Park. You seemed busy with the rest of the boys so I decided to leave you in peace.”

You took your glasses off, pretending to be pissed off about him going to a place he didn’t actually visit when it was actually about the secret he was trying to hide from you. “Are you shitting me right now? You promised we’d go there together.”

“I know, but I just needed to clear my head for a bit.” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, no longer looking you in the eye.

“For the entire night?”

“Yes, for the entire night,” he snapped, instantly irking you even more because how fucking dare he?

Sighing, you got out of the lounge chair you were in, licking you lips to calm you down just a fraction before you stab him in the eye. “You know what?”

Each step you took towards him, he took backwards until he was right at the edge of the pool.

You brought you lips right next to his ear, the faint scent of pineapple lingering on your tongue, spotting the hickey hidden under his neck. You whispered, “fuck you,” before pushing him with ease into the pool to create a massive splash.

With steam coming out of your ears, you stormed away back into the hotel as Mingi lay there, laughing.

“That’s my girl,” San chuckled as he watched the scene unfold. He could tell from the feeling of the argument that you were unhappy about your boyfriend not being home that night.

In fact, when the mafia boss first noticed the way Dominic couldn’t peel his eyes away from one of the other women in the lounge last night, he decided to keep tabs on his movements--and thank god he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have found the great evidence that could pull you two apart and thrust you into his arms.

Hongjoong however, was actually somewhat terrified. “That man was twice the size of her.”

“I know. Feisty little lady.”

The blue-haired man looked at him with so much disgust, watching how he was so enamoured by you and a little turned on. No matter how open San was about what he liked in ‘bedroom matters’ both verbally and (unfortunately) physically, he still couldn’t help how grossed out he was.

“Jesus, keep it in your pants,” he grunted.

“Chin up, Joong,” San sighed, strangely gleeful, “we won’t have to stalk around much longer.”

“No?”

“No,” he smiled, “because she’s back with us to the villa. Tonight.”

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin ,

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