#doing violence in a manner that you feel you could never justify

[mollypaup]

the struggle of wanting to play more horror games but hating survival horror

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[luxlightly]

Thoughts on Omeluum vs the Emperor

I love that Omeluum exists as a character for many reasons. It's a fantastic character, even given the very small role it plays in the story. It gives us a context that sets up the reveal of the Emperor later, the idea an illithid can (and would likely want to) escape from the Grand Design. It's also just a good person who genuinely wants to help people and cares deeply about his research (and implied possibly romantic) partner, Blurg. But, unlike the Emperor, it is very distinctly illithid. It doesn't behave in a human manner. It doesn't speak in a human manner, it doesn't emote in a human manner. It doesn't feel in a human manner. But it is a good person. It doesn't need to be at all human to be a good person. It is undeniably illithid in everything about it, but it defies the social structure that Elder Brains impose on illithid and therefore does not reflect the values we might expect from an illithid. It's not manipulative. It's not dishonest. It never hides who or what it is or what its intentions are. It's not selfish. In fact, it will try to convince you to save Duke Ravengard in the Iron Throne, at the expense of its own life, because it knows the Duke has more of a capacity to help people than it does. But it never becomes more "human". It doesn't need to. Because it doesn't have to be human to be a good person. Compare that to the Emperor, who constantly insists how different he is from other mind flayers, who constantly compares himself and the player character. He speaks, emotes, and acts very human. He still considers himself to be the same person he was before his ceremorphosis. But he is a bad person. He is manipulative. He is dishonest. He lies to the player character constantly, never giving them the whole truth and, when lies don't work, he resorts to threats, then outright violence. And he is, more than anything, selfish. He cares more about preserving his own life than anything and will betray even those closest to him in order to do so. He kills first and rationalizes it afterwards. Despite not being a slave to an Elder Brain, he is everything the Grand Design desires that illithid should be, save for obedient, though he's more than willing to submit to the Absolute the second he feels like his life could be in danger from not doing so. It gives great insight to him as a character and the way that, in basically all things, he acts the way that benefits him, then finds a way to justify it afterwards, both to others and to himself. He didn't tell you he was a mind flayer because you would have killed him. Except that, from your interaction with Omeluum, he could have clearly seen you wouldn't have. He insists that his constant manipulation is just his nature, yet we clearly see with Omeluum that that nature is not set in stone and does not have to be manipulative to the point of maliciousness. It's not being a mind flayer that made Balduran this way, it was his own personality. Which is why he desperately wants the player to make the same choices he did, to agree that they are the same. He's convinced himself he was forced into every horrible decision of his life or that it was inevitable. Which is why he gets so upset when you deviate from the path he himself took. Because you, like Omeluum, prove that it wasn't nature that made the Emperor, it was conscious choices that he tries to retroactively justify. Ironically, if you don't buy into his lies, he eventually tells you he'll resort to force to make you "accept your potential". He needs so badly to believe you would make his mistakes that he'd force you to.

[skaruresonic]

"Yes, Woolie, you can win any argument if you just change what words mean."

Apologies for bringing up an old debate, but I feel the need to clarify my stance on this topic. Twitter character limits will not allow the space needed for explanation.

There's a reason I mentioned the Erazor Djinn and not Shahra. It's because, unlike the Erazor Djinn, Shahra has done nothing wrong. Sonic helps her because he wants to, not because she's earned it by performing regret to a "sufficient" degree.

"The concept of freedom and redemption is neutral."

No, it isn't. That's a culturally Christian view. Some cultures emphasize rehabilitation instead, which differs from redemption.

Not to mention that morality is, to some extent, culturally defined and will vary on that basis.

"Some people deserve it and some people don't."

Yeah, no, I have Problems(tm) with this mindset.

The reason the idea that anyone particularly "deserves" anything - in this case, punishment for crime - doesn't sit right with me is because some external force must define the crime and impose the punishment. I take umbrage with the very idea that we must relent the onus of our problem-solving to an authority, which is naive at best and dangerous at worst.

In other words, at some point you must defer complex moral decisions to an authority. Historically, these punitive frameworks rarely serve justice and usually leverage their power to target the oppressed.

At best, the "criminals deserve to be punished for hurting people" mindset assumes the just world fallacy is true. Good people ought to be rewarded, but more importantly, bad people ought to be punished. On top of other potential pitfalls and opportunities for abuse, this fallacy assumes victims can never exploit their own hurt, real or fabricated, to facilitate oppression.

What this results in, more often than not, is a culture of anxiety that stunts one's moral growth. People become afraid to speak out, make the normal range of mistakes expected of being human, and sometimes even do the right thing upon pain of being branded a Criminal(tm) onto whom punishment is justified and equally little grace afforded. And since "bad people" and "criminals" are categories upon which cruelty for catharsis' sake is considered more justified than rehabilitation or justice for victims, this system can, has been, and will be exploited.

This is why humans rights exist and are called human rights, not "fuck up hard enough and get your humanity revoked" rights.

At worst, it can feed into an authoritarian mindset that paves the way for fascism: dominant cultures enforcing their bigotry through institutionalized violence. "Undeserving" is a severely loaded term especially given this context and this risk.

The wording of "But the fact [Shahra] wishes to make things right for herself and ultimately regretted her mistakes shows that she is more deserving of redemption and freedom than Erazor" implicitly frames her as someone who, under Sonic's supposed moral authority, must be screened or vetted. It risks lumping abuse victim with abuser. If she did nothing wrong, only suffered being a victim of circumstance, why must she "earn" Sonic's grace where the Erazor Djinn does not?

What did she do that would require punishment otherwise if Sonic had found her regret wanting? Lie out of necessity? How could he deign to exercise the authority to punish her for such a thing?

Add the fact that she defers to Sonic as the master of the ring, and this whole power dynamic becomes horribly problematic incredibly fast. That Sonic insists on seeing Shahra as not only an equal but a friend is the whole point the game was attempting to make about their dynamic. It would have been beyond fucked for him to have exploited his power over her in such a manner, and I'm glad the game explicitly avoided that implication right out of the gate. Shut that shit down before it even had a chance to start.

Ironically enough, we see this framework fail when IDW!Sonic is confronted with an abuse victim in the form of Surge. He callously treats her with the same flippant disdain as with other irredeemable villains (barring Eggman, but we'll get to that in a second) even though Surge makes it clear that she's suffering.

The fact that his solution is not to listen to her, but to instead preach his values and say "I'll just kick your ass until you magically start Acting Right(tm)," as if hurting people who are already in pain ever taught them a lesson other than "never trust anyone," means IDW!Sonic is less interested in harm reduction than in appearing "good" and merciful. He winds up reinforcing his status as the moral authority of this world, which is ironic for a character who supposedly values freedom for all.

But maybe not.

Freedom includes the freedom to fuck up, yes. And what I'm certain IDW!Sonic meant to add was the caveat "...but not freedom from consequences." However, his selective hypocrisy in who deserves what and when is so obvious that it winds up warping the message into "Do what Sonic tells you or suffer the consequences he decides are fit."

Again, this loops back around to my original assertion that the "what you deserve" mindset is authoritarian. Who is Sonic to establish himself as the arbiter of freedom?

At least in SatSR, when he condemns the Erazor Djinn to the lamp, it's for pragmatic reasons as much as it is for moral considerations---perhaps the former even more so than the latter.

Sonic knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that letting the Djinn go free will result in the events of the game happening again. Shahra has told him that the Djinn abused his power once before, and he's seen the evidence for abusing it a second time throughout the course of the game. To say nothing of how the Erazor Djinn basically hammered the nail in his own coffin through his callous disregard of Shahra.

The Djinn's actions determine his fate. If we left it at "he's just a scumbag," that reduces him to an identity that may or may not be permanent and shifts focus away from his choices.

Likewise, Shahra is not a good person simply because she regrets her mistakes hard enough, but rather, Sonic knows her hand was forced because she winds up doing the right thing in the end, even at a high personal cost.

Hence Sonic takes concrete steps, such as tossing the lamp down a furnace where no one would be inclined to look for it or even accidentally stumble upon it again, to diminish the threat the Erazor Djinn presents.

It must be emphasized that he also makes an equal effort to comfort a grieving Shahra. Not because she's a good person who "deserves" comfort after all she's been through, but because it is a good thing to alleviate suffering. Also because Shahra is his friend, and Sonic doesn't need a reason to want to help out a friend.

What concrete steps has IDW!Sonic taken to reduce the harm his villains present?

1.) Convinced Shadow to step down from killing Mr. Tinker by leveraging Shadow's traumatic past against him, rather than argue that Mr. Tinker should be given a chance to live as his own person.

2.) Made a promise to check up on Mr. Tinker to make sure things continued to go smoothly, only to later break that promise by assuming Eggman will remain Mr. Tinker forever with no real evidence.

3.) Decided to let Metal Sonic go regardless of Tails' warnings, on the reasoning that Metal was his own person whose autonomy needed to be respected (despite Metal admitting that he essentially had no free will in a previous issue, and despite Tails later pointing out that Metal remained dangerous as he still had his jet engine and claws). Eggman even calls Sonic out on this, explaining that Metal is programmed to obey his master. Yet Sonic still gets chuffed at Metal for having "chosen wrongly."

4.) On top of exacerbating the metal virus and nearly destroying the world for personal gain, Zavok killed people in the Zeti hunt arc and very graphically threatened to flay Sonic alive while storming Restoration HQ. Yet he's shuttled back to the Lost Hex without any real guarantee that he won't do it again.

5.) Nothing against Starline, except to eulogize his death as "big oof," despite having told Surge that he (Sonic) was willing to give even him (Starline) a second chance.

6.) Eulogized Surge with "That's the real problem with freedom: you can't stop people from making the wrong choice."

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

The way Condal, Hess and co write certain characters, especially Alicent, just makes them look like some kind of aliens who cannot comprehend the core of human nature and familial bonds (motherly love, sibling dynamic...) . I mean, fine, maybe they aren't parents honestly have no idea about their private lives nor do I want to know ), but that still doesn't justify the atrocious manner in which they have been portraying Alicent's relationship with her children. And I dislike the explanations that come from one part of the fandom (she married against her will, never wanted those children, never felt freedom...) I mean, I don't deny these, but they are not enough to explain or justify her weird (and sudden imo) detachment and dare i say, borderline hatred of her sons. Not to mention that this was the life of westerosi women, basically every one of them. Also, Ryan talked how Alicent and Viserys had "a loving marriage, just weren't in love " and generally holds Viserys in high regard, so he obviously doesn't see him as Alicent's abuser or anything. That's why i cannot understand what is the point of showing her so disgusted by her children and incapable of showing them love. Otto's influence? Maybe, but still not the greatest explanation. And she seems even harsher and distant to her sons this season than Otto ever was to her. She doesn't seem broken over Jaehaerys, she doesn't seem overly upset over Aegon (he's burned alive and is dying ffs and she won't shed a tear), Aemond is apparently an ireedemeable monster in her eyes fur some reason, even before RR... It's so frustrating that there are people who eat it all up and justify it as a genius and subtle storytelling with a lot of details that we "the whiners" refuse or are unable to grasp. Idk, I really liked her in s1 and although she was a bit inconsistent in ep 8 and 9 I hoped it would be retconed. Unfortunately, this season I'm watching a character I don't recognise anymore. And the worst thing is that she doesn't suffer from a lack of screentime like Aemond or Helaena do. Almost everything on tg revolves around her and yet I still have no idea what is her goal or who she is anymore.

Sorry for the rant.

Hello!

I could not agree with you more. Not sure if some kind of personal/family circumstances of HotD writers played a role in them fumbling the Greens family dynamic so badly but I am convinced that their "women good men bad" narrative policy did.

In "Driftmark" Alicent orders for Luke's eye to be cut out (and immediately, in public) - and then attacks Luke and Rhaenyra herself. But a few minutes (in show time) later she repents - and after that, apparently, she is all for "violence is reserved for men" agenda. That's where her disdain for Aemond (in whose name she was about to commit a public act of violence herself) is supposed to come from, I think. It doesn't even feel like she is horrified precisely by the fact that he might have almost killed (deliberately at that) his own brother. Lack of consistency and logic? Yes. Obliviousness at best, hypocrisy at worst (from Alicent, I mean)? Yes. But who cares, right? Alicent does not support the evil deeds of men - and that's what matters.

And her treatment of Aegon looks even more moronic. Girl, you put him on the throne against his will! After her meeting with Rhaenyra she knows it was a result of a misunderstanding (the favourite trick of this show, dammit - but it is a topic for a whole another conversation) but how is Aegon to blame for it?

I can relate to Alicent growing tired of being used and manipulated - but IMO (I agree with you here as well) this is not a good enough excuse for her to fully go into the "fuck yourselves, the lot of you" mode. But for the writers it is, at least it looks like it. They were trying to sell us the bullying of Aemond by Aegon (combined with the former's desire for power) being a sufficient motivation for Aemond to get rid of his brother (during the civil war where they are supposed to be on the same side no less) - and now they are trying to justify whatever Alicent does with her being a child bride and so on and so forth. I have no love for Viserys (or sympathy for Otto - where it comes to him pimping his teenage daughter out to the king) - but turning Alicent into this and expecting everyone to eat it up? Come on. Even some casual viewers are going "WTF" watching Alicent's scenes with her children, never mind those who are familiar with Fire and Blood.

And double yes to the point about the show very heavily focusing on Alicent to the detriment of many other characters (Aemond first of all). It feels like the writers believe that all that audience is supposed to know about Aemond now is that he is a bad guy - and they give him just enough screen time to show that. Meanwhile Alicent has loads of it - just so we could get a really good, really long look at her face and understand just how bad patriarchy failed her.

So, as I see it Alicent is now no more than a means to the end of hammering home the main idea of the show. How does she do that and what happens to her character in the process is unimportant - at least, to the writers and showrunners.

Sorry for the rant as well🙈

[nrilliree]

TG don't waste a moment before condemning Viserys in Alicent's case without understanding the complexity of that situation. Yes, Alicent didn't enjoy bedding Viserys and he was in a position of power over her. Still, his personality - as depicted on the show - was reasonable enough in most cases and he was not a wilfully cruel man most of the time.

He had made it abundantly clear that he was marrying for more children, not unlike any other man of his era. He picked Alicent because he believed she was interested in him. What else was he supposed to do once they were married, if she never attempted to communicate her feelings with him? Read her mind?

We have also been shown that he respected Alicent's opinion enough to take her advice on important matters and, even after he realised that his marriage was an outcome of Otto's machinations, he didn't take it out on Alicent and, post time skip, she wielded greater power in court. She could openly override his wishes ( Jace/Helaena) and rule in his stead.

It won't be far fetched to say that had Show Alicent opened up to Show Viserys, if not to Rhaenyra, before marriage during their meetings, about how she was being pressurized by her father to visit him then he might have put a stop to all that and even helped her get out of Otto's grasp by arranging a suitable marriage for her. I'm not getting into Book Viserys and Alicent because they were different characters with a different relationship.

Aegon, on the other hand, raped Dyana, Helaena and God knows how many others. He has displayed a lack of consideration and reason more than once. He is the one who has no control over his cruelty for what else can explain the child fighting rings? Yet, it's he whose crimes get excused and even justified through the most absurd mental gymnastics.

I try to take it logically and I came to my conclusions this way:

Alicent: lied to him, declared war on his daughter at the royal wedding, spread deadly rumors about the birth of his grandchildren, broke royal laws, planned usurpation, attempted a coup, attacked his heiress with a knife, publicly questioned the king's authority, showed him disrespect as a husband and, above all, as a king. Viserys: He didn't do anything.

But at the very moment when she told him that "husband, I don't want to go to bed with you tonight", would he turn out to be an assertive, brutal man who would not tolerate disrespect, and would resort to violence, forcing her by force? Maybe I'm wrong, but Viserys didn't seem like that type of person and his entire characterization in the series wouldn't be consistent with that. He was a lousy husband, but not a brutal one. There is no indication that he was brutal or violent, and the only times he reacted this way were: it was about Daemon, it was about Daemon again. He never reacted in an aggressive or brutal manner towards Alicent, even when she disobeyed his orders, stole his knife, and attacked his daughter in public. He tried to avoid any clashes and problems so much that he created new ones, but not like this.

Seriously, HotD added so many negative traits to him that he didn't have in the book that TGs don't need to add new ones. They won't justify Aegon anyway by making Viserys a brutal rapist without conscience or respect.

[merakiui]

Sk! Octavinelle!!! Sk! Octavinelle!!! Sk! Octavinelle!!! Oh gosh, I love your concept and the fact that all three of them are so different in method and why they kill. It’s so interesting how you characterize them all!

You mentioned that Jade justifies to himself that he kills because he’s a predator and part of the food chain… and that he’s really hungry, hahahah. Do you think he suffers from cognitive dissonance? Do you think he suffers from guilt? Like, months into his first planned murder, do you think he contemplates turning back and that he could live life without human meat? Or does he think about the morality and legality of things, but knows deep down he’s going to do it anyway, so why bother with negative emotions in the first place?

There are so many sides to Jade and I love how capture him so well!!!

I think there is definitely some level of cognitive dissonance, but it's on a very basic level. As a mer, the concept of death and murder is a little different in the sea. For all creatures, survival is a priority, but this is especially true for merfolk. Life in the sea is harsh, and sometimes you must resort to violence for the sake of survival. If living comes at the cost of potentially eating someone of the same kind so be it. It's normalized in rougher parts of the sea where food is harder to come by, but in more civilized areas (such as in underwater cities and neighborhoods) cannibalism and violence are frowned upon just like they are on the surface.

On the surface, murder is wrong. Very wrong and punishable in all manner of ways (the ultimate punishment, in some cases, being death). And though murder is still wrong depending on what part of the sea you're in, sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes it's what guarantees survival. And Jade will always be a mer. He can wear human skin, think and act like a human, but at the end of the day he always will be and always has been a mer. Thus, he still thinks like one. That, and when you grow up in an environment as cold and harsh as he did you're bound to come across unsavory things, especially when the family business can be particularly ruthless at times.

He's seen all manner of things most human children wouldn't ever see in their young lives (and will hopefully never have to see). Like skeletons in shipwrecks or fresh corpses, whether from drowning or from shark attacks. And he's seen enough death and gore to know it's normal and not something grotesque or scary. It's just the cycle life, the food chain, and that's how he often rationalizes things. After all, in the sea it's eat or be eaten.

I don't think he feels guilt. Rather, I think Jade would feel more regretful if he was caught rather than fretting over the fact that he killed a living person. One of his kills was messy and the blood spatter got all over his favorite curtain set. That made him sad. Seeing the life ebb away from his victim did not. It's little, unimportant things that upset Jade. Like bloodstains that just can't be washed out or curtains that can't be salvaged or even spoiled organs that can't be eaten no matter how hard he tries to prepare them in a delicious way. It's not death that saddens; it's what happens when he's too messy or careless that has him frowning. It's when he can't utilize the human body and all of its parts to the fullest potential. He always rationalizes it with the food chain because he genuinely believes that's the truth of the matter—a natural law of the world. His morals are also quite crooked, but then that's bound to happen when you're from the Leech family and the Coral Sea. ^^;;;

Legality has always been a strange subject for the Leeches because their entire business always toes the line between legal and illegal. Jade has never had to worry about legal troubles because he's learned how to conceal all unsavory, illegal things behind a perfectly clean veneer. He's spent years observing how others do it, learning and understanding the tricks of the trade. He makes decisions based on what's right in his mind; he's objective and calculating and so very intelligent.

As for the part about being hungry and his first planned murder, that actually plays a role in DRU! I'd love to talk more about it, but it would spoil the plot. >_< for now, thank you so much for liking how I characterize sk!Jade. He's so terrifying. <3

[winterwitch-trash]

“All hell breaks loose.”

Author's Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Apologies this took so long to post! I'm back on this fic with a small change: Bucky's wife has a name finally. (Otherwise it would be boring to keep repeating "She" or "Bucky's wife" all the time, right? Right!)

Summary: Bucky's wife has arranged a day out in the city to attend meetings with local charities. Bucky isn't too keen on letting her go without a bodyguard but she has convinced him that she can take care of herself. Oh how wrong she was...

Word Count: 1952 words Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence, non-con (TRIGGERING CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, DNI)

Months of meticulous planning and preparation were finally paying off. Rumlow had somehow found out where Barnes’s wife would be. She would be having a business lunch with people representing various charities. Too bad she would never make it there. Rumlow’s men had strict orders to keep her alive. After all, he wanted to be the one who dealt with her, knowing that it would ruin James.

“Sir, we are all prepared to leave.” One of the men informed the mobster who smirked in response. “Bring her to me.” He simply ordered, taking a sip from his scotch. In a few hours, he would have his enemy down to his knees, begging like a dog…

As for Bucky’s wife, she had absolutely no idea what was about to happen to her. It was one of those rare times she didn’t choose to take a bodyguard with her, despite Bucky’s requests for her to do so. She was just about to leave the mansion when a disgruntled brown-haired mobster appeared at her door. “Doll…Please, at least take Steve with you.. That’ll give me some peace of mind while you’re out there doing business.” He attempted one more time only to be met with an amused look from her. “Sweetheart, I love you, but you know I can take care of myself… Besides, you taught me self-defense.  ” She reminded him, a soft laugh echoing from her lips as she kissed his cheek before moving towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.” She finally told him, not knowing that it would be a while until she made it home… She also didn’t know that things would change from now on…

Bucky knew she was right. She could take care of herself if need be. Nothing could prepare him for what was coming though.

As the day went by, he couldn’t really focus on anything. And Steve was able to pick up on his friend’s discomfort. “I know you’re worried, but you know her.. She’s going to be back soon, and she’ll be in one piece. Right?”

He couldn’t be more wrong though…. Soon, Bucky’s worries would turn out to be justified.

As his wife was heading to the restaurant where the representatives of the charity organization were awaiting, a gunshot echoed in the air, lodging itself between the driver’s eyes, sending the car spinning out, ultimately crashing into a water pole. The impact was so intense that it caused her to black out.

After what seemed like an eternity, she woke up in a dark room, slightly disoriented from the crash earlier. But eventually, her vision became clearer and she realized that she was tied down. “Shit… I’ve got to get out of here…” She mumbled to herself, fear and panic rising within her as the minutes ticked by. It was only then that she saw a dark shadow approaching with slow movements. “Glad to see you woke up princess…” He said, wetting his lips in that disgusting manner that made the uneasy feeling worse. Who was this man and what did he want with her? “…. Ah, yes. Where are my manners?” He taunted, revealing himself. “The name is Rumlow…” 

At the sound of the name, a shiver wrecked Bucky’s wife. This was not good. Not good at all.

“What do you want with me?” She asked bravely, making the dark-haired mobster laugh in response. “Simply to meet the woman who stole my enemy’s heart. And I can see why he’s taken with you sweetheart…” Rumlow mused tracing a finger across her collarbone. Sweetheart.. God, the pet name sounded so wrong from his lips….

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me!” The female spat, trying to get his hands off her. This act of defiance only served to enrage Rumlow who backhanded her without a warning. Deep down though, he liked women who appeared brave in the face of danger…

“Then don’t provoke me you little bitch…” He growled, ripping the dress shirt off of her, leaving her exposed in the cool air of the room. And that was the first time she actually began feeling scared, considering the hungry look he was sporting. Whatever he was planning… it was not good. Not good at all.

“Now, you and I will send a little message to your husband… It would be a shame for him to worry about your whereabouts..” He smirked again, causing her to whimper in fear. And that’s what spurred Rumlow on to carry out his plan. What the girl didn’t know was that there was a camera recording all the disgusting actions that took place.

It didn’t matter that Bucky’s wife kept pleading for him to stop touching her… He simply laughed, extinguishing cigars all over her body, just to make her scream in agony before he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look up at him through tearful eyes. “The real pain has begun baby girl… Are you ready for yours?” He taunted, lowering his pants. “Please… Please let me go…” She cried, seemingly having given up. After all he was physically stronger.

“Stop moving and I’ll make it fun for the both of us…” He sneered, cupping her cheek. This gesture made her nauseous but she stilled and allowed him to caress her cheek. Oh this was turning out easier than he thought… “See, princess? It’s not that hard to relax and enjoy it…I can’t wait to hear those sweet sounds I’m sure you’re gonna make..” That was the breaking point for Odette. She couldn’t bare feeling his disgusting hands all over her. So she did the one thing she could think of, biting down on his hand, causing Rumlow to jump back in surprise. “What the fuck?!” He yelped inspecting his palm that was bleeding. She had drawn blood, which both impressed him and enraged him.

While Rumlow was trying to stop the blood from the small wound, Odette found the opportunity to undo the knot that was binding her hands together, and then it was a fight or flight situation as she tried to make a run for the door, only to be pulled back by none other than Rumlow who was practically inhaling her scent, causing violent shivers to wreck her scarred body resulting her freezing completely in fear. Whatever fight she had left in her had completely vanished, and now she was at his mercy – or the lack of it. She just wanted this to end as quickly as possible.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?? Rumlow smirked forcing a wet kiss across her breasts. For the first time, Odette’s voice was caught in a silent plea for help, wishing that Bucky would storm the place and shoot Rumlow dead. But to no avail…

Rumlow simply laughed mockingly, bending her over, towards where the camera was placed. After that, it felt like everything had faded to black… She missed how he enjoyed taking advantage of her, how he growled in pleasure while she suffered. All while that damn camera was recording everything. Hours later, Odette woke up, disoriented and sore, and scared out of her mind as her memory of the events that took place mere hours ago.  Oh god… She had to get out of here… @tuiccim @world-of-aus A huge thank you to both for helping out with ideas and feedback <3

[seldaryne]

haven't finished the durge pt yet (idc about spoiling anything though that has 0 impact on me enjoying the game fdgh) but i've been thinking Thoughts.

edit okay as i was writing this i went ahead and just read up on the backstory so i could continue my thoughts in a coherent manner lmfao

(lots of info here, apparently ive gotten Very attached to her in the last uh. three weeks give or take. kinda sorta chronological?? idk it makes sense to me lmao)

--

velrith probably definitely only settled on that name in act 2. prior that she was just called whatever people drifted to if they needed her attention. & she didn't really care, having a void for memories will do that to a bitch, but it can make introductions awkward or give them a weird 'im too good to even give you my identity' energy. not super great when paired with someone who doesn't really emote or put a ton of effort into masking tonal inflections. she pointedly allowed other people to do more of the talking as a result for a while & would get roped into conversations that way.

i'd like to go ahead and tie in astarion's frequent use of pet names here to this too. he's got a goal here, and can't just drop a 'hey you' every time he's angling for something. it's easier to fill in the blanks that way & make sure it doesn't come across as cold and calculated as the seduction actually is for a time. of course, the mental gymnastics weren't necessary here. aside from the fact that she's extremely intense about her oath & therefore is legally obligated to send cazador straight to hell on sight, he'd also have the same luck with a low-effort, straightforward 'do you want to have sex?' the lines are... usually fine, never actually crossing boundaries, but she does find a lot of them to be really goddamn weird & unnecessary when the point could be made in less than 10 words.

picture a distraught-looking sighthound & you have the general idea of the face she makes when he lays it on thick. she's giving her best shot at a socially appropriate expression. it's not working.

also on names, she can't say for sure if that's who she was before or if she just pieced together syllables that sounded like Something from memory. again, doesn't really matter either way, since she's not in any hurry to reclaim her former self. it's fine.

ketheric felt straightforward. a tragic figure who she did extend an olive branch towards, but ultimately felt nothing when it came time to bring her blade down (besides, isobel seemed like she knew what she was talking about when velrith confessed [suddenly coming back into her room just to point-blank tell her about the desire to spill her blood] certain thoughts of violence towards the cleric, and it felt like the sort of assurance she should be trusting, right? more than any of her own emotions, anyway.)

gortash gives her the ick. like, there's no other way to describe that one. he actually probably still would even without all the history (and the fact that he needed to repent for what he'd done to karlach), but the slimy over-familiarity was really the nail in the coffin there. velrith isn't smooth nor particularly socially gifted, but she has a certain air of formal pride she carries herself with. acting like you know her better than she does herself (even if it may very well be the truth!) is so beyond an overstep of what she's able to function with. stripping away everything else, if he even tried to touch her casually on the shoulder, he would have been liable to lose that hand.

orin troubles her. for the obvious reasons, but she also just... pities her. almost. pre-tadpole, velrith was honestly relatively similar compared to her current personality. colder and more able to justify slaughter, sure, but still staunchly refusing to compromise her own feelings for social games. she understood how the game pieces moved when she watched other people, even when she was younger, but if asked to copy the same techniques, she was only ever able to bludgeon straight through in a line. consequently, people don't really care how strange you are if you're just that good at your job. orin made a one-sided rivalry out of someone who otherwise just regarded her as a peer in the same arena, and now sees her as someone who wouldn't have been able to take the chance at redemption even if it had been on the table. she was too far gone, unable to stand on her own or cope with the fact that she would always be lesser than someone who genuinely could not have cared less about standings. maybe if velrith had feigned some interest, there wouldn't have been so much hatred. or maybe there would have.

either way, she sees orin in a depressing light. someone who had nothing and no one but the prospect of power, and who crumbled as soon as that chance at power was taken away. to let her live would have been to co-sign on her projecting those emotions outwards. velrith isn't stupid and knows there's a good chance she might have gone the same way if she hadn't been lucky enough to receive her parasite. in another life, she thinks that maybe she could have found a connection, and they might have saved each other (either genuinely or in a twisted version of the word). this isn't a thought she shares with anyone. she thinks about that death and their interactions for a long time afterwards.

her 'normal' childhood sometimes comes to her in fleeting memories that disappear out of her periphery if she focuses too hard. she thinks she liked her parents, and they seemed like nice people from what she can semi-recall. but she can also tell that there's always just been something wrong with her if she compares herself to other people. many of these snippets feature her looking anywhere but at her parents' faces, unable to express herself verbally in a way they could understand (the words were right, they way she used them was... her own, shall we say?). something flipped at some point, and all of the sudden she would stare too much at them, not blinking or looking away at the right moments. they'd seemed to squirm a bit under this. they always seemed a bit sad when they looked at her, as if they'd loved her but she was never quite as they hoped she would be.

she had to be taught what to do during a hug as an older child instead of leaving her arms limp at her sides. she knows that.

she doesn't remember killing them. she doesn't remember how it would have felt to receive her first order or how she was unable to do anything but listen to the violent urges.

there's more guilt for not feeling much towards them than there is for the killing.

the staring hasn't shifted again. she knows she looks at people too hard and/or too long, looks at them dead in the eyes and studies their faces, but she can't help it. one, it's good to be aware and alert. two, looking away doesn't seem to be the answer either. at least this way they know she's paying attention, right?

she thinks she shouldn't care about these things, that it's so ridiculous coming from her blood-soaked past, laughable that she'd wonder what it meant to have people relax in your presence instead of becoming more visibly anxious. but she wants to be good, she really, really does. she wants to be able to join a group like everyone else, slipping seamlessly into their words and laughing how they laugh instead of her own (the faintest of smiles and a soft rush of air running past her lips, blink-and-you'll-miss-it laughter that may as well not exist outside of her head). she doesn't hate herself for these things, because she doesn't know how else to be, but she does wonder. she wants to know what it's like for these things to be easy. bhaal's favourite hadn't been blessed with charisma, apparently.

consequently, she has a very hard time now figuring out how to actually connect with anyone, or what it should feel like to have friends.

it made her somewhat uncomfortable in the beginning to be asked questions by these people on a regular basis. not even personal questions, just things to signal that she existed to them in some capacity. gale remembers when she'd wrinkled her nose at a certain seasoning, and leaves it off her plate when he makes dinner going forward. lae'zel likes how she fights and asks her questions on technique, asking to spar so she could better understand the answers. shadowheart thinks they're alike with similar holes in their memories, and seeks out her company because of it. she doesn't understand, and for a while she even feels a bit suffocated by it. exposure therapy is really the only remedy here.

initially there are some reasonable assumptions on whether she just dislikes them all that much, or if she thinks she's better than them, or some other nasty reason. it takes approximately two conversations with her for everyone to understand that's not the case. it's like speaking to someone who only every studied social behaviour from an incomplete textbook and was visibly struggling to fill in the gaps in real-time. is she scary? yes, a bit. does she stare at you Way too much when you're speaking to her (at her, really, because you will be carrying that conversation until she's gotten her footing)? also yes. but she's really earnestly trying to sort herself out for the sake of the people around her, brain twisting around itself to learn things that were as easy as breathing to most. and it's sort of sweet, in its own way.

over time, she stops simply caring about these people based on her code of ethics. she starts to remember things about them too, her love language starts to show itself through gift-giving at an absolutely glacial pace, but it's noticeable to literally everyone despite that. a small trinket picked up at the market matching shadowheart's usual taste is pressed into her hand with only a nod before velrith is turning on her heel and almost running away. a tome is thrust at wyll with such startling intensity that the kindness actually comes off as a bit of a threat, but she looks visibly relieved when he takes it with a smile. so on and so forth. every incident like this, every blunt display of 'i notice you. i think you would like this. i thought of you today,' is accompanied by a hasty exit. task accomplished, but now the script has run out, so she's doing the same. she also finds it hard to look at people once the exchange has taken place, and is pretty sure this is an affliction only she suffers from.

she's going to push through it anyway, even if it makes her skin feel like its trying to recoil off her bones.

it also comes out in the protection. again, it's expected as a paladin of devotion, but no one is quite prepared for the molten fury that burns in her eyes or the weight of her voice whenever ghosts from the past arise. not only has she sworn her protection to those suffering from harm (and names like orin, gortash, cazador, viconia & more absolutely qualify as those who cause harm), but it feels personal. acting as shield and guillotine is when velrith is truly in her element, standing tall and embodying the virtues laid out in her tenets.

she is fighting internally just as much as externally, pushing back against base instincts to continue her sworn oath. driving her sword through the flesh of the emperor is just as much about defeating him as it is proving to herself that she is still capable of goodness. if she falls here, she can at least die knowing she was dedicated to rebellion until her very last breath.

this does not mean that she actually registers it when people like her, though. in fact, once she pieces together what her true nature is (she hadn't wanted to kick that poor animal, or make a spectacle of that nice bard's corpse, or try to rip out astarion's throat as he slept--but she had done those things, and more, and what's worse, some of them don't even to her like they would anyone else) she's pretty sure that the unanimous, logical choice would be to put her at a distance.

so she braces, prepares, makes peace with returning to the status quo & starts pulling away before staging her little ted talk. jaheira catches her first, though, and it gets to her. she's not spoken much to the woman, but she's... incredibly understanding, actually. so much so that it leaves velrith with a profound ache in her chest when she rolls over and tries to sleep again (jaheira's insistence, and her promise to stand watch all night in case she lost control again). being around jaheira hurts like hell, but she still seeks her out after that incident. she looks at her kindly but doesn't treat her with any more fragility than before. she's good-humoured when answering question after question about bhaalspawn, and stays honest the whole time too. she seeks her out when she isolates as much as she can on the outside of camp, dropping a sack of potatoes at velrith's feet and sitting beside her so that they can peel them in easy silence.

she likes that the most. sometimes it feels like velrith's head is too full; not from the parasite or the echoes of a murderous god, but from--she's not sure, actually, but it makes thinking hard, and speech tends to take a temporary leave as well. no amount of coaxing makes a difference, it'll return when it decides to. that's the bad sort of silence, the type that other people feel like they should fix so that everyone can be comfortable again. except jaheira, who apparently can figure out what she needs before velrith can even process that question. and sometimes, she just needs to peel some potatoes for a bit.

standing before everyone else, she prepares for the logical choice of rejection again. instead, she's greeted with shrugs, support, sympathy, but overall--not much of a change. that's the part that sends her off, only pausing just long enough to take a breath before excusing herself to the surrounding woods. it hurts so damn much, being loved like this. she wonders if any technicalities in her oath actually require her to slay herself at this point, just based on the implications alone. they should be appalled. fearful. cold. and she'd wound herself up so much inside determining this to already be the only end to her confession. bare your soul, lose what you'd only started to ease into, return to your duty.

the other shoe never does drop, though. it's gone so catastrophically well that she can't even make the tears flow properly (she's only done it once before that she remembers, but that should be adequate). instead, her sobs are muffled gasps against her hands, choking on her own confusion as she sinks to the ground, shaking.

of course, this comes out after the "incident", in the underdark, which means astarion has already seen her cry precisely once of something that seemed to her a similar scale. he's got a better handle on it, he'd like to believe, and he can sense that he's being silently volunteered for the 'fetch our bhaalspawn' quest. she's not hard to find either, an ice-white tiefling amongst the greenery with her head hidden in her arms, folded in on herself like she's not worth the weight of her own bones. it's sad, and a little annoying, actually, because if she was to insist that he possessed worth like it was the most obvious fact in the world, like he was strange for not feeling the same way, why shouldn't that same sentiment extend in her direction.

of course, there's little he can say to soothe in a way that matters, he's not going to make that mistake again, but he's at least able to bring her up for air. yes my love, perhaps it is foolish and unwise for any of us to stay around something so dangerous, but that argument can be made in many directions, not just yours. you would be the first among us to dismiss those very notions if they were coming from someone else, and have done so--multiple times, may i add--as bhaalspawn. if there's upset about the reveal, i'm confident that it's more to do with how you feel than anything else.

and really, what's she supposed to do with that aside from break even more (from relief, maybe? tension and fear of rejection that she hadn't known how to recognize, hadn't known she was holding onto? the understanding that this is not just from him, but on behalf of everyone else too?) and crumble into him.

against all odds, she is worthy of loving. despite her bloodline and her personal shortcomings, she is worthy of that much.

nothing in half-measures, as most paladins tend to be. does she remember when or why or even how she took the oath? not even a bit. but it's the only thing in her head when she wakes up on the mind flayer ship, the sole thing she's sure of, the only guiding direction she has. it should be enough to understand right and wrong, but it isn't for her. following the oath is a choice, something she can steady herself on when nothing else makes sense. devotion to her cause of protection, restoring some of the balance in the world that she lost before orin killed her. maybe that was why she lived; something needed her to right some of her sins before death arrived. or maybe a divine power was looking for someone who wouldn't be missed if they were lost in stopping the ithilids.

whatever it is, she does everything in her power to stick to it. until, of course, life happens (as it tends to) and she does something in the underdark. what did she do? she doesn't know, because she thought she was helping--that myconid was going to betray the colony that took him in when he lost all others. she raised her sword when it was clear a scolding wouldn't change his mind. and then... the sinking feeling that something was wrong.

something was missing. the only part of her that felt like it was anything was gone, and for the first time (maybe ever?) she gets emotional. there's no anchor anymore, no calming guide of tenets to follow.

the oathbreaker knight will find her later, she knows. at camp, she's distraught, and the little bit she dared interact goes out the window entirely. there's nothing anyone could actually say that would help, anyway. this does not stop astarion from trying.

glib as ever, were she in a more normal headspace she would have seen the dismissive comment for the hand-waving attempt at comfort it was. he probably knows there's nothing he can actually say to bring her down, but surely a joke (meant to reassure that she would be fine regardless, whether the oath stayed broken or was re-taken, she was competent on the field and he at least trusted her that much) would be alright?

it was not.

for all that he carried, he could not--did not--understand. of course he could be cavalier about it; despite all that was taken from him, he still had his own gods-damned name. he knew who he was, wasn't scrambling to put together fragments of his own ghost just to make some unimpressive small talk like she was. she has not yet chosen her name at this point, and that oath is where she begins & ends as a person.

he's silent when she snaps, unexpected. like a cornered animal about to tear its own leg out of a trap, daring anyone to come closer to 'help' so that they too can be maimed. a total loss for words, even when she stalks off to keep herself from acting out even further (who knows how prone she would be to violence now? not her!), raising her voice for the first time at him in pure grief.

he doesn't really get it, but he understand more in the middle of all that. the pieces click together in his mind, working themselves out during the berating. the gods never answered his cries, and so his outlook remained fairly bleak on the whole pantheon. paladins occupied a space at the opposite end of the spectrum, and he'd assumed that her more uptight habits were an offshoot from that (it's not like she gave him a ton to work with, either. he did his best from what he was allowed to see). for her, there may as well have been no gods involved in any capacity. it was simply the thing that kept her from fracturing entirely, now gone thanks to a misunderstood line in the agreement.

she still refuses to speak to him, even after she's begged for the oath back--she'll be good this time, really, she'll be good, she promises, it won't happen again, please--and received it successfully. she's not talking much to anyone, feeling both too exhausted and over-sensitive to even contemplate that. his apology isn't... good, exactly. but it's honest and that's really all she gives a shit about. things are still weird and cold for a bit, manifesting in a physical distance & reinforcing just how off his initial read on her was. but it's her first real brush with interpersonal conflict, so learning curves are expected. time and circumstance eventually help things settle, with there being bigger things to worry about.

she's quiet during sex. responsive and hyper-aware of her body, definitely, but still restrained. she enjoys the act, however, despite the lack of volume, and this shows through a readiness to explore and feel things. the ability to feel physical pleasure is something that at least seems to be something she has in common with most people. but she's overly permissive too, sometimes uncomfortably so; she's simply not attached enough to her body to have real concerns or strong preferences. at first glance, this seems to be deference, the need to be agreeable in every situation lest she tip the scales too much in her own direction.

he puts his finger on that after the third encounter, and finds himself taking a break from her for a while after as a result (once again, an act that she's absolutely fine with--god, has the thought of challenging him ever even crossed her mind in this department?). Further observation, however, reveals something else. her actions are exploratory. experimental. there's no frame of reference, she needs to establish preferences all over again for this version of herself. in fact, he sees that this extends to other tasks people ask of her as well. every action or accompaniment is met with the same reserved curiosity, considering what's being asked of her before ultimately deciding to try something new. perhaps that was why he felt like he was being intensely studied if he squints.

there's no doubt that she does see him. but she only sees enough to know that she lacks the connections to actually do anything with that. an unbalanced, vexing sort of safety net. (still, there was probably no one better for him to glue himself to than a paladin, and he tells himself that's why he spends so long trying to figure her out. because surely, her motivations can't be as obviously honest as they come across--can they?)

it's only after she tells him on the name she's privately decided to give herself (private for now, since everyone else will be informed in the morning) that he starts to realize just how much he enjoys kissing her. she's not nearly as practiced as he is, but gods, there's such a single-mindedness to the kisses it actually leaves him dizzy. her focus is so all-encompassing, the world around them may as well have been unravelling at its seams and she still wouldn't break contact. chasing pleasure but holding back just enough to keep her head above the water, prolonging the act as much as she can. he's been kissed before. many times, actually, but not like this.

there is... so much disappointment when rejecting bhaal doesn't actually change anything fundamental in her. on one hand, that really does mean that it's been her personality the entire time. that the good choices she made were hers, and they were worth fighting for.

on the other hand, fostering even that small seed of hope that she might become less of herself and more like other people had been a dangerous game. the distance remains, along with the lack of understanding and knowledge that some things would always be more hard-won for her, while others would simply be entirely beyond her reach. knowing this logically is one thing. accepting it is... entirely different. it will take time, and she will at least allow herself as much so as to properly grieve a version of herself whose body knew how to laugh freely.

she'll be okay.

[goth-mothered]

@shireentheunburnt || Gory Starter ! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

TW For: Violence / Death / Murder, Blood & Gore, Slight body horror & Potentially Disturbing Descriptions.

“ Life & Death hold court together under this painted sky. “  Morticia’s voice is flatter than ever before, bereft of it’s usual warmth and lilting timbre - her usual teasing hiding somewhere in her battered face, her mottled cheeks red and slick up to the temples. People didn’t take kindly to a witch in their midst. She’d never done them harm, not one of them, so then -- how could they justify their ire ? ( Of course, she had fought and protected herself when they had come with their swords, torches and fists aiming for a kill. They’d been denied that - a quick blast from a whispered spell and a head had exploded from the assailant’s shoulders. The body had remained standing and had the nerve to swing an ax in her direction. Morticia had stood defiant and unflinching as the ax sank into her shoulder on the cross swing. Another lay reduced to ash, a thick black pillar of pungent smoke rising off the smoldering pile. )  The shell-shocked look in her eyes could have been mistaken for madness as she clutched a leather bound book to her chest. The book itself, seemed to be whispering - a papery fluttering sound if one weren’t close enough. Where one might have assumed it to be reassurance and comfort - was easily found fraudulent upon closer listening. It was instead letting out a string of obscenities against the witch’s tormenters.  Morticia silenced the book lovingly: ‘ Calme, Jakabok. ‘, that’s what it sounded like she mumbled, but it was as subdued as her usual manner. She wiped the blood trailing down her nose with the back of her hand and winced. It was getting harder to heal herself & even now that the feeling was back in her swollen face it was a blinding wash of pain.  ( Had this broken her tentative hold on sanity ? Perhaps. Was she willing to throw some of the more detestable parts of humanity into a tailspin of terror as they were given proper punishment ? Yes, this she knew absolutely ! )  It was already made up in her mind: She’d call on the dead & damned to aid this injustice’s retribution. They may take her dignity, but she’d steal away their sanity with no remorse. 

“ I’ll be sure of it. “ Morticia let her astonished wide-eyed gaze fall on Shireen. The witch knew she looked pitiful and the idea of someone she’d grown to care for feeling pity for her made her ill at ease. Tish shrank back against the cold stone wall and lowered her eyes: 

“ You should go - there’s nothing you can do here. “ 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the head that had been rendered free from it’s body and on childish hurt impulse, she rushed & kicked it with enough force to break some of it’s facial bones and took satisfaction in the sickening crunch the bone made as it gave under her force. 

“ Let me guess, you think I’m a monster too ... ? Yes ? “

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Hi! Hope this is alright to ask. Pretty much I am trying to figure out what draws me to whump, and I feel a bit out of place when I try to find answers. I've been through traumatic experiences before and a lot of times I've heard that people cope by putting characters through traumatic experiences but then give them comfort or a happy ending as a way to take your power back/rewrite your personal life story. Personally I don't resonate with that because I don't always include comfort. But at the same time I do feel like I'm using whump writing to cope somehow... I'm just not sure how? Like when I look up articles on 'writing therapy' a lot of what comes up has to do with 'giving the characters the happy ending you would have liked for yourself' but again, I can't really relate. Plus, I also consume whump. Lately a show I'm watching has had one character go through a lot of whumpy scenes and it's sparked an interest in me, like I rewatch those scenes a bunch of times and now have an interest in writing that specific character going through pain when I had never considered that before. And it's also caused my mind to 'branch out' I guess, and get more ideas for what kind of whump I'd want to include in my own writing. Even though I've been interested in whump for a while already, this is really the first time canon whump scenes have drawn me in so much. I know I don't really have to justify liking whump to anyone and some people simply just like it, but in my case, I do feel like it's deeper than that and I just don't know what some possible explanations could be? Thanks if you're able to offer some insight!

Ah, glad you’ve found us here on the Tumblr Dot Com, my dude!

I’m kind of the same way, honestly. I’m mostly in it for the physical sensation (which is cozy and warms me up like a hot cup of tea on a cold, rainy day). It may very well be that whump is a brain chemistry thing that some people are just predisposed to (like how some people feel tingles when listening to AS/MR while others don’t). (I also experience tingles by the way… I know correlation doesn’t equal causation, but hm… it might be worth researching [nudges the psychology academics])

But I do also feel a level of emotional attachment to certain types of whump (particularly if a character is crying or screaming). For me, I like watching/reading those kind of scenes because that’s the only time I react in a “normal” way to sad and/or messed-up things; because I’m usually alone when I do this, so I don’t feel I have to hide what I feel from others. Everything comes to the surface and it’s very nice.

Or sometimes I’m just down in the dumps and I decide to stare at Gilbert Kane writhing on the dinner table for the eight-millionth time and go “Damn I wish that were me.” But like in a very normal, catharsis-seeking way… I don’t have a death wish.

So it could be an emotional expression thing(?) Or (if you’re into the more, eh, one-on-one Whumper/Whumpee dynamic) it could also be seeking validation that what people did to you was, in fact, Very Bad… or not idk.

Or, you could just have a fascination with the weird, disturbing, and gross, which manifests itself in a love of whump. This could be indicated by your other interests.

Or, you could just enjoy seeing variations on a theme; what writers do differently or the same as each other. I know I love binge-watching an actor’s work for a year (or three lmfao) and studying their mannerisms and micro-expressions. I also love picking apart imagery and wording in written pieces. So, it could just be a different type of “Love of the Craft,” so to speak?

Or, it could be an outlet for anger. Sometimes it is for me, but usually it isn’t the case. But generally, when I feel like throttling a person and cracking their skull open like a pistachio shell, I find a whump blogger with open asks and do horrible things to their OCs. I squeeze them like stress balls. Didn’t ask. Don’t care. [violence] [violence] [violence]

Anyway, thank you for asking me! Have fun and keep whumping.

(Autocorrect almost changed “whumping” to “whipping.” Very off-topic, I know… but so, so on-brand djdjdjdjdjdndndn help I’m laughing now)

[terrifickid]

Some affinity for stealth whatever that is. It exists in nature. It's not inherently violating.

But moreso, I was very influenced by my perception of the confluence between my study of grotius and international law and computer programming.

As well as narcissism.

This revealed to me a foundational 'reality' that I may be didn't have the courage to believe in as a child being in such a warp zone environment.

So this really unlocked my mind to begin functioning again.

And left me with a real interest in them going about getting to the root of other things to restore myself from a massive cumulative confusion.

What is stealth? A more interesting question is what is the ultimate nature of ninpo. Or enduring...

I don't understand who Leon 'is' but I don't care. Nevertheless it seems very clear that stealth has a Pareto level impact on tactical reality, in other words real outcomes and I think that in my reacquisition of a stable reality based on relationships, having reached the limitations of conceptual mentation, I believe there then must be a connection between ninpo and reality since it's been established by international norms the inherent rationale of sovereign principals of relations.

So, thus far, 'concealment' and 'misdirection' are Pareto level aspects of stealth - and stealth seems to be an inherent relational concept. Ok, that reads.

Next, the utilization of the immediate circumstances and resources also seems ninpo - and an aspect of enduring within unseemly and unideal conditions, namely the human condition.

Because it seems crystal clear that any uh, 'so called' 'normative paradigm' is actually a manufactured 'statist' political narrative. And is thusly a magic cult language, also clearly architected for the purpose of private and not public good. Making it both illusory and illegitimate.

Wherein, there is a non-statist reality beneath political reality.

Well, one I just think asymmetry is interesting. Next, I Intuit that to understand 'ninpo' will be an excellent vantage point to attain some orientation in being. The study also functions a test of that notion that things are something. For instance, blah blah blah ryu isn't actually anything while putting a knife nearer to me is threatening.

And I think this is relevant in relationships and obviously asymmetrical 'power' over narratives as to 'facts' wherein coercive violence is only justified.

Ya is ninpo what 'no' is?

I'm not sure.

If you didn't say no than was consent implied? And if you can't say it?

Is saying no saying yes to something else? Is it all just a language?

What do you want this relationship to be? Because it seems like you can choose.

I never thought of that. I was immediately bothered by all manner of worry and never stoped to consider what I actually did want this or that relationship to be. I simply feared for my life and was completely unnecessarily preoccupied with sorting out a confusion I never had a long with a non-understanding I never had.

And for why? Was just a habit To maintain myself within a field of relationships I never wanted.

Well, there is some reason I must report my fellow NK comrades? To say, 'there is not' completely avoids an obvious context so to speak - in fact, I currently feel and many agree with me, such a suggestion made opens the door to the immediate obliteration, do not pass go, option.

I do not understand how this primal sacred principal is overlooked.

Well people do put up with it. I felt such questions could only be answered once the fundamental root was heard and understood otherwise you'd just be lost in the folly of premature speculation and in this pursuit came across subjects that called into question the entire premise including curriculums surrounding sources of power. Curriculums codified in parallel with ninpo.

So, further study remains.

Yes, and the root nature.

Well, one thing is it's vendetta level to take another's prey.

Uh huh hmm this 'principal' isn't derived, or calculated. Yes it's very controversial - the most controversial research I've ever done.

What is justice? Harmony? Perfection? Hmm...

It's just 'us'?

You know, vengeance is mine. What is and isn't a hierarchy? Love, service, respect, and other words that today are considered profane.

Yes, it opens a tremendously terrifying realm where I don't deserve to be assaulted.

I, least of all, wish to live there.

So I don't even think about it. Just keep focused forward.

Ya, why not make it into something very funny?

[kreture-komforts]

Man, I know you never wanna dive into the Tumblr perspective on media, esp. not reality tv, but y’all really got me fucked up over here about The Ultimatum: Queer Love.

I watched the entire season with my husband, and obviously these people are incredibly messy and problematic, but the way y’all will do readily call people narcissists, ESPECIALLY women of color, is fuckin painful. Yoly and Mildred are not narcissistic; they’re human, and flawed, and maybe even selfish, but they were also two women in really complicated situations that were only worsened by the toxic world of reality tv production. The editing is misleading, the premise is fuckin batshit, and we have NO IDEA what the producers are saying from behind the camera in order to manipulate more dramatic content out of these people. Yoly did her best to disclose everything she thought would be important and honest about her relationship with Xander to Mal, but she missed some details, and she was accused of lying multiple times because of that. Mail’s feelings of frustration and betrayal are totally valid, but Yoly was never caught in any lies and readily clarified wherever she was asked to.

As for Mildred, and y’all are gonna crucify me for saying this: she’s not just some abusive monster. I know, there’s a police report and there was physical violence between her and Tiff, but y’all have been quick to jump to believe Tiff’s story without giving any credit to the violent incidents Mildred expressed having experienced during the relationship instigated by Tiff (i.e. punching holes in walls). Everyone saying that Mildred shouldn’t have been invited to the reunion is a real hypocrite, because this situation was a complicated and toxic one that had issues from both sides. Tiff is not a sole victim, and an arrest does not an abuser make when our justice system has no built-in conflict resolution or room for cultural complexity. Tiff was fucking wrong to say “being respectful has no race,” in response to a Latina expressing that her mannerisms and communication style are heavily influenced by her culture. Later on in the show, we see them develop more of a respectful rapport with one another, while leaving room for the fact that the both of them have a tendency to step over each other’s words and speak over one another. That is simply not something a police officer is capable of doing, and that alone is reason enough to not make snap judgements and label people as narcissistic abusers. For example, my abusive father at some point filed a police report against my mother because she physically stood up against him to defend myself and my little brother. Luckily, the police are lazy and incompetent, so no arrest ever came of it, but it very easily could have escalated to that extent, despite my mother being the victim in that situation.

I just really believe that the internet, and Tumblr users specifically, have this habit of prescribing their own squeaky-clean, black-and-white ideas of morality mercilessly, and usually onto people with perspectives that they can never understand. And, these people aren’t gonna see your post calling someone’s human reaction to a terrible situation narcissistic and abusive, but you’ll have validated some shitty person’s generalization of women’s (especially Latina women’s’) emotional expression.

I believe abuse victims, and I also believe that two people can abuse each other without one of them being a fucking narcissist. Mildred attempted to speak her truth, and when she had the floor, Tiff interrupted her every chance she got; and yet, somehow, it gets turned back around on Mildred and now she’s the one who’s not listening or trying hard enough. Y’all can hate me all you want, but the human experience is full of violence, and while it shouldn’t ever have a place in a relationship, it’s not always as black and white as an abuser and a victim. Violent responses are both unfortunate and sometimes justified, and that’s just not a conversation Tumblr’s ready for yet.

[helloprettybb]

slip of the tongue

i love bucky with all my heart. that’s it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky doesn’t really like you. but a night alone and a stab wound may change his opinion.

warnings: violence, bad description of action scene, heated kissing??? not smut but implied

word count: 1.9k

Bucky hates you. It isn’t difficult seeing as you’re Stark’s daughter and every quality in the man is tenfold in you. You’re crazy smart and you aren’t afraid to show it. Perhaps your worst attribute is your arrogance since it’s justified most of the time. Bucky hates how you’re always right and the stupid smirk on your face when you outwit or outtalk someone.

He knows you can tell and that’s the worst part. It seems you do everything in your power to irk him even more. Like trying to talk to him every time he enters the room or asking for every excruciating detail for any minor event. You get on his nerves and nothing could change that.

The team left for a mission this morning so it’s just you and Bucky at the Compound. After doing nothing all day, Bucky decides to go for an afternoon run. He doesn’t listen to music, as he enjoys the sounds of the city between the mindless chatter and the speeding cars, it reminds him of his youth.

Towards the end of his run, Bucky starts toward the Compound when his ears pick up a yell. Going towards the noise, he spots three men assaulting a woman. She tries her best to hold them off, but she is greatly outnumbered and outmatched by the three, burly men.

Bucky springs into action and grabs the man whose hands are around the woman’s throat. Yanking him off easily, Bucky shoves the man to the ground with a force that was probably harder than necessary, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he moves his attention to the two other attackers. He grabs the second man, who is slightly shorter than the first and punches him square in the jaw. He releases the woman and stumbles back. The third man lands a few punches on him, but they barely phase Bucky. While fighting off the last man, Bucky doesn’t notice the first guy get up. He also fails to notice the shiny knife in his hand before it’s too late. The man stabs Bucky in the side. Now Bucky’s pissed as he pushes the third man into the wall. He turns toward the man with the knife and knocks him out cold.

He looks around and realizes the woman must have run away. “Good.” he thinks, but only for a minute as he remembers that he got fucking stabbed. He groans as he applies pressure to the wound.

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt. Bucky’s protests stop as he sits down on one of the stools. You pull up a chair and open the kit.

“Y’know this will probably heal by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it can’t heal if you bleed to death.” you retort. While the injury most likely won’t kill him, your point still stands. “Can I?” you motion to his hand. He removes his hand and you quickly pull his sweatshirt up to treat the wound. Luckily it’s a shallow stab wound and the gauze you put on is enough to stop him from bleeding out. As you continue to apply the gauze, you have to force yourself to not get distracted by his defined abs and focus all your attention on the wound. Your fingers trace over his stomach and he jumps slightly.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your hands must be freezing from being down in the lab for so long. Once you finish applying the gauze, you say, “There, all done.” You look up at Bucky and are unable to read his expression. It causes you both to fall into an awkward silence. “So,” you say to clear the air, “How’d this happen?”

“Some guys were attacking this woman. Didn’t know one of them had a knife.” He responds gruffly. You nod in understanding.

You finish patching him up and say, “If you need anything like extra bandages or a beer, just come to me.” Bucky simply nods, unsure what to make of that proposition. He begins to leave awkwardly and almost makes it out of the lab before something in him makes him turn back.

He pops his head in and says, “You said something about beer?”

-

Bucky doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. He’s on his fourth beer, but he can’t get drunk so it doesn’t really matter. It’s funny because one beer turned into two and then three and now he’s found himself in a full-on conversation with you. And the most surprising part is that it’s delightful.

Behind your arrogance and quick judgments, you’re really funny. He knew you were smart, that wasn’t a surprise, but talking to you more changed his opinion of you.

“So, Buck.” Usually, that nickname didn’t get to him but a healing stab wound and a couple of beers will change anyone’s perception.

“What?” he asks.

“Got any lucky girl?” He scoffs at that and you look shocked. “What? It was simply a question.”

“It wasn’t the question, doll.” Since when did he call you doll? Just a slip of the tongue, he supposes. “It was the fact that I’d even have someone.” he says honestly.

“What do you mean? You’re a good-looking guy, just over one hundred. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. Damn, you’re growing on him.

“I’m serious!” you exclaim. Your left arm is on the couch and your hand is leaning against your hand. He realizes this is the closest you’ve been besides before when you were tending to his stab wound. “You’re a catch, Buck. What stops all the ladies from falling all over you?”

He rolls his eyes at you again whether at your persistence or wording. “I’m a bad guy, doll.” There it is again.

“That’s not true,” you scoff. Taking a sip from your beer, you casually add, “Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that. “Come on, Buck. I’ve liked you for a pretty long time. I thought I made it quite obvious.”

“By annoying the hell outta me?” He jokes.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to you. Although I know I can come across as….”

“Annoying.” he says back. You give him a look that makes him laugh and soon a smile spreads across your face.

“I actually do care about you. But, I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m happy just being friends.” Bucky thinks it over for a moment. Just this morning he was thinking about how you bothered the hell out of him. Actually, the more that he thinks about it, he realizes that he never really hated you. Did Bucky like you all along? He’s about to reply when the elevator doors open.

“Oh, you’re back?” you turn to greet the team.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late with Bucky?” Your dad eyes the two of you suspiciously.

You catch onto what he’s implying and assure him, “We’re just hanging out. In fact, I was just heading to my room. See you tomorrow.” You say a quick goodbye and leave before anyone could say anything.

They all turn to Bucky, ready to attack him with questions. “I’m going to head up, too.” Bucky quickly exits. He catches up to you, although he definitely didn’t mean to. Curse his long legs.

“Oh, hey,” you say as he enters the sleeping quarters.

“Hey,” he says. Fuck it, mind as well try it. “So, about the friend thing.”

You wince, “You don’t want to be friends.” You seem a little hurt by it, “I get it, you don’t really like me. It’s not like I can force you, too. And especially after I basically confessed to liking you as more than a friend, I could see how a potential friendship wouldn’t sound too appealing.” You’ve never looked this uneasy. He’s used to seeing you so confident and assured, but this was new.

Bucky lets you finish rambling before he replies, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little, finally shutting you up. He moves closer, but you stay still. You both can tell what’s about to happen, yet neither is making a motion to stop it.

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You look like you’re trying to play it cool and contain your excitement, but Bucky sees you bite your lip like you’re trying to stop your smile from spreading.

“So…” You start like you’re thinking long and hard about what you’re about to say, “Can I kiss you?” You’re adorable. Bucky takes one last step and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Beyond the taste of beer, Bucky picks up some… he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip… cherry lipgloss. He’ll never get sick of the taste of cherries. He thought it’d be a sweet, innocent kiss but when you grab at his back, trying to hold him as close as possible, he knows it’s anything but. You kiss him hungrily as if your life depends on it and Bucky eagerly accepts. He muffles your moans and gasps and thinks about how nice those sounds will be echoed in his bedroom.

Bucky moves you so that your back is against the wall. You moan as his hands trail down your sides and onto your ass. His hands go under your thighs and you jump so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky catches you and pins you between himself and the wall.

Your hands go up to his hair and play with a few strands before pulling lightly. He groans at that, separating from your lips and throwing his head back. With his neck exposed, you trail kisses up and down his throat. Sucking and biting occasionally and making Bucky go crazy.

Two can play at that game, he thinks. He reconnects your lips to kiss you again and starts grinding his hips into you. Your hands go to his back and start scratching against his shirt.

Before this could go any further, Bucky pulls away and asks, “My room?”

And you smile, “Fuck yeah.”

[house-of-ass]

I'm in the mood for some protective Bo, so I was wondering if you could write a little something like Bo-Job, but halfway through the future victim stupidly tries to touch Bo's S/O and he just goes ballistic on them. Just an idea 👍

of course ! love me some protective Bo, hope you enjoy !!

Minors DNI (18+)

Broken Boundaries

warnings: canon typical violence, unwanted touch, gore, bo might seem OOC but that's how we like him here at house-of-ass

gn reader

----------------------------------------------

Everything had been going smoothly. Hell, even prior to knowing that the perfect third was on his way to Ambrose, Bo had been in a great mood. Breakfast was late due to the two of you lazing in bed for a little before going on with your day, which neither of you minded. It felt good to take it slow instead of just jumping into chores. You sent your lover off with a few of the leftovers from the meal for lunch and tended to the house before setting off on your way to drop off lunch for Vincent, then to Bo's garage.

Approaching the building, you could see that there was a visitor inside, this was probably one of the earliest ones they've had in a while. Bo and the man stopped talking and turned their direction towards you when the bell on the door announced your presence.

"Hey, darlin', why'on y'come and meet our vis'ter." Bo's lips curled, a dead give away that he was up to something. He had never really cared whether or not you met the tourists before, he'd usually introduce you himself. You walked up to the two, trying to figure out Bo's scheme. Was he trying to show you off? Make the other man jealous? Did he want you to--

Oh..

OH.

Bo had pulled you to the side to discuss how the two of you wanted to go about this. You let Bo decide more since he would be doing the work and you wanted him to be in control of what he did. Thankfully the other man was up for it, which you were grateful for. You weren't sure if Bo would be up for this again had he been rejected. Bo led you two down to the basement, not before stating that you were strictly off limits, giving the man what he assumed was a joking threat.

You knew better.

And when everything started, it was good, great even. Bo was giving his all, his chin dripped with saliva and his pretty eyes teared up as he gagged on the man's length. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much so that he didn't even mind the man's fingers in his curls. Oh, but you did, and were quick to remove them. Bo didn't bring up no being touched himself, but you didn't like the idea of someone else getting too comfortable with your man-- even if he was sucking their dick.

The look Bo gave you through his tear slick lashes as you removed the other man's hand made you feel justified in your actions, and fueled the warmth in your core. He pulled off to give him a break and replaced his mouth with one hand while the other made its way down your pants. You leaned towards Bo in order to kiss him but the visitor planted his hand on your head and guided you towards his dick instead.

"You want some too? Feeling a little left out?"

Before he could press the tip to your mouth, Bo squeezed on him and the man yelled and let you out of his clutch. "What the fuck man! Let go, fuck!" He tried to pull away but Bo had a vice grip on him.

"Th'fuck I tell ya, huh? Said y'can't touch 'em, y'too fuckin' stupid to listen?" Bo was on his feet the second he let go, brandishing his pocket knife before following the man as he backed away.

"Look man, I'm sorry, I'll leave, my bad. I didn't realize you meant it." The tourist tried to reason with but every word seemed to piss Bo off more.

"Why th'FUCK would I make a rule if I ain't s'pectin' fuckers t'follow it, huh? Ain't one of them that flakes and backtracks, and I s'pect someone to not do sumn' if they say AIN'T gonna. S'pose we gotta teach you some manners." His face was red and his eyes were blown, each word he spit at the trembling man was laced with venom. You had never seen Bo so mad before and you'd be lying if you said him acting this way over you didn't get you going.

The man continued his retreat from Bo before the his back met the concrete wall of the room, halting his movement. He pressed himself further against it as if in hopes to sink though. Bo stalked up to him slowly, watching as the other's eyes darted around. He eyed the door and with another step from Bo, the man bolted towards it. Bo moved quicker and was able to grab him before he could make it.

"Where y'think you're goin'? Did I say y'could leave? Awfully rude to leave a function 'fore it's done, and we ain't done. No siree," He hooked his arm around the other man's neck, holding him in a chokehold as he positioned him in your direction, "Y'ain't goin' nowhere till ya' 'pologize to my partner." He pressed his knife to the man's face.

"I-I'm.. oh god m'sorry.. I'm so sorry, oh please.. please just.. god please just let me go.. I'm sorry.." Bo pressed the blade harsher and he tried to flinch away from it but Bo held him tightly. "Oh fuck.. please I just.. I'll leave.. just please.." He sobbed and Bo scowled as the tourist's tears dropped on his hand.

"Careful now, wouldn't wanna cut yourself cause y'couldn't stop shakin'." Bo pressed his boot to the back of the man's knees before shoving him onto the ground, "Look at'cha, so fuckin' pathetic, where's all the bravery at, huh? Y'like grabbin' people, how'd you like to be grabbed?" His fingers locked in the man's hair and he yanked his head back harshly before looking at you.

"Y'wanna do th'honors, baby?" Bo smiled up at you as if he wasn't currently threatening a man's life. You shook your head and he nodded. "I understand," He stood and pressed his foot onto the man's lower back, "wouldn't wan'cha to touch this ugly fucker noways."

Bo's mouth pulled up into a sneer as the man cried out under him, begging as he tried to crawl away. He lifted his foot a bit before bringing it down hard on the man's spine, a sick crack emanating from the motion. The man howled in response, his sobs coming out choked as Bo continued the assault on his back.

"PLEASE, FUCK!" The man cried and tried to wriggle away but Bo stilled him with another blow to his spine. "Y.. you said.. I apologized" The man sobbed and tried to move once more. "You said I could leave.. I APOLOGIZED, FUCK.. I won't tell, promise, please.. oh god.. you said-"

Another strike.

"Yeah, I did, but I didn't say how. You're leavin' a whole 'nother type a way." Bo grunted, his aim traveling up the man's backbone, voice rough and shaky as he continued to stomp the man's head into a pulp. Bone snapped and brain matter squelched beneath his foot, each movement flung parts of the man's head around him. Not wanting to intervene or get any of the gore on you, you watched from a distance and allowed Bo to get his frustrations out. He only stopped when the sound of his boot connecting to concrete reached his ears. Stilled, aside from his chest rising and falling from exertion and limbs shaking with adrenaline, Bo glared down at the man. His attention was ripped away when you shuffled towards him and he moved to meet you halfway.

"Y'kay?" Bo frowned and cupped your face before tilting it around, examining you. "Didn't hurt'cha, did he?" His face hardened slightly at the topic of the other man but soon smoothed as you mimicked him in cupping his face.

"Jus' fine, baby, had you there, knew nothin' was g'na happen." You smiled and Bo frowned again.

"But sumn' did happen and-" Bo started before you cut him off.

"You couldn't've known, shit, y'ain't a damn mind reader. You laid boundaries and he crossed 'em, ain't your fault no way." You leaned forward to kiss him but he dodged it and pushed your head away.

"Naw, I just had his dick in my mouth, lemme brush m'teeth 'fore I kiss ya. Don't wan'cha t'come into contact with that shit." He grumbled, grabbing your hand and leading you upstairs, but not before turning and spitting at the man's body.

"Stupid fuck."

He'd have Lester come down and help him take the body to the pit later.

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished. 

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would. 

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that. 

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable. 

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here. 

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days. 

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!” 

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast. 

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down. 

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there. 

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be. 

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you. 

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly. 

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn. 

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground. 

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead. 

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything. 

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to. 

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room. 

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest. 

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings. 

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness. 

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet. 

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked  hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away. 

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you. 

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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