#just hurt/comfort but the comfort is in a different area code and we have to walk barefoot to it

[xysidhequeen]

Equilibrium

So the Dead on Main server caused me to spontaneously spawn an entire outline for an AU because I wanted a Dark Danny fic. So. Here's a snippet of what I'm working on.

It had started out subtly. The beginning of the end. 

The GIW had crept into Amity Park, buying up empty office buildings. Making themselves known. 'Researchers' they called themselves. 

They could always be seen whenever there was a ghost attack. Not running, not helping, not hindering. Just. Watching.

The first red flag that became obvious in hindsight was when they'd reached out to the Fentons. When Jack's long winded rants on ghosts didn't scare them away. When they started taking notes.

The second red flag was the government contract sent to the Fentons a week later. 

But still, the GIW didn't do anything. They bought up the empty buildings, filled them with strangers in white suits. Amity Park gradually learned to ignore them. They were harmless, some weird government branch that had an interest in ghosts. It wasn't interesting after months of idleness from them.

Amity Parkers lowered their guard, answered the seemingly innocuous questions posed to them. 'How long have ghosts been attacking?' 'Have you ever been injured by one?' 'Have you noticed anything strange?' They were simple questions, questions any Amity Park resident could easily answer. 

Eventually the GIW became another quirk of Amity. Something expected, normal even.

Then the 'clinics' started popping up. They were free to use, offering simple health care for any Amity Park resident. Common colds, ear infections, broken bones, vaccinations. You had to do a blood test to use them, but no one minded much when they were free. And injuries were so common with the ghost attacks. Ghosts never seemed to care about collateral, except Phantom. But he was the one ghost who protected them, so that was expected. 

Amity Park became welcoming to the GIW. Open to their questions, freely giving information. Even Phantom was willing to stop occasionally when a question was called out to him by one of the white suited men or women. 

Yet still, the government contract remained. The Fentons handing over blueprints of weapon after weapon, prototype designs shipped off. Research papers handed over by the box full.

The GIW presence increased slowly, over the months that became a year. Their clinics and offices multiplied. Empty buildings and shop fronts were bought as soon as they went on sale. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see a person in a white suit everywhere you went. 

No one ever noticed how they never employed Amity Park residents. How they never hired, how there was never a help wanted sign posted or an ad made to ask for workers. No one wanted to look that deep.

Willful ignorance was easier than admitting they'd been invaded.

So the Amity Parkers kept answering questions. Kept visiting the clinics with their doctors who often asked questions unrelated to the reason for visiting. 'Have you noticed yourself becoming stronger?' 'How much sleep do you need, on average?' 'Have your eyes ever glowed?' 'How long can you hold your breath?'. 

The clinics began offering more services, addressing more issues. All still for the small cost of a vial of blood. It became normal to visit a clinic rather than a doctor for anything. Flu? Clinic. Broken bone? Clinic. A nasty burn from an ecto-ray? Clinic. 

Some people started vanishing, but that wasn't unusual in a city. People ran away or died all the time. It wasn't many, really. Maybe a one or two a month. There was no pattern in the victims, so it was presumed they were unrelated. The cops were stumped. No one paid attention to the fact that every single one of the missing had visited a clinic days before they vanished. 

Then came the blackout. Or maybe it came sooner, it was so hard to tell when it started. When it became impossible for anyone in Amity Park to reach out to someone out of it. At first anyone who mentioned it was called crazy, conspiracy theorists. 

But soon it became more obvious. Friends or family out of the city could no longer find any Amity Park resident on social media. Couldn't even find a mention of the city existing anywhere on the internet. They blamed it on the ghosts at first. They did weird things to technology, it must be them. Right?

Then they stopped being able to call out. Cell phones would no longer make or receive calls from anyone who didn't have an Amity number. They started to get restless. 

Then came the roadblocks. Anyone trying to leave Amity found that all roads out were inexplicably blocked. Construction, they claimed. All the roads at once, yes. There had been earthquakes that destabilized the roads all around Amity. So they said. 

They had been trapped, and they never saw the jaws closing on them until it was too late. 

It didn't take long, once the revelation that they couldn't leave, couldn't call for help, spread. 

The military moved in, penning them inside their city. Checkpoints were placed at every road in or out of Amity. You could only leave if you were in the company of a soldier or a GIW operative. 

'Quarantined' they were told. Because of what they weren't told. Something highly contagious and dangerous was all they were given. Hospitals were taken over by men in white suits. Doctors and nurses were sent away, fired. New ones were shipped in, strangers. 

More people started going missing. They all knew who took them but they couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it. Didn't want to. 

Curfews were enforced. No one was allowed out after sundown, businesses had to shut down an hour before. No one was allowed out until dawn, schools were forced to start later. Anyone found breaking curfew was apprehended, sent to a holding facility. They weren't seen again. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

hey y'all, i pretty much know that i'm the asshole big time- but i'm not sure what to do about it. i know i need to shift my perspective, especially because i'm not sure what to do going forward... or how to meaningfully apologize, so I think i need some outside judgement.

AITA for wanting to possibly return to speaking terms with someone i cheated with?

about 1.5 years ago one of my best friends (i'll call him R, we're all 20 now) confessed to me while I had a bf- R said he knew i wasn't into him but asked me to kiss him once. i felt really bad and didn't feel anything for him, so i said yes and we briefly kissed. I didn't think it was going to be a big deal until I told my boyfriend right afterwards and he got really upset in a way i now see i was really understandable. i've come to see the situation as cheating, but I think fundamentally we had a different view of it at first. my bf asked me to not be alone with him anymore or talk to him outside of groupchats (i was in a friend group of 3 people, R me and another guy). I tried really hard to follow through on this but in reality- i just didn't want to cut off one of my best friends- there were times I went against my boyfriend's wishes and slowly I let up and saw him/talked alone more. I would tell my boyfriend about it and he would be hurt by it and I would feel horrible, but I didn't put up a hard boundary. I hated myself for it, but I didn't feel like R was actually a problem, rather that the problem was my lack of respect for my bf. A month or two later, all of us moved away to different colleges. After two months of long distance and continuing to talk to R on the phone sometimes, my boyfriend left me citing that as one of the reasons.

I realized I should have valued my bf more and I stopped talking to R (basically ghosted him), but he contacted me on another platform and asked if I was okay and I realized that he was a true friend in a lot of ways. When we hung out on winter break at home, we were chilling and he kind of made a joke asking me to sleep with him. I said no very loudly because I'm not into him like that and I was still hung up on my bf. Meanwhile, after 2 months of no contact, me and my bf had started to talk again very tentatively (i had tried really hard to instigate it which, sometimes i feel bad about not leaving him in his peace- but I was having a really hard time accepting the breakup). I realized there was something I really needed to do to show him I was serious and I sent R a text saying we couldn't be friends anymore citing some lame reasons and the whole 'sleep together' thing.

After that, R didn't contact me and I felt like it was sad, but kind of a blessing because I got to focus on building trust between my bf and I and we eventually got back together.

Anyways, in the past year, the relationship has been steadily getting more comfortable and I hadn't had any contact with R or cheated since (I kind of believe once a cheater always a cheater, so this is an accomplishment. I really don't want to hurt my bf like that again.)

Okay here's the sucky part though (as if the rest wasn't already sucky of me) i was posting tiktoks for the first time this week and, little did i know, the algorithm was showing them to people who had my number. I got a call from an unknown number and a text that said "can we talk." I realized from the chat history it was R, whose number i deleted. I didn't answer, but a part of me really wanted to.

I missed him and I felt bad for leaving the friendship the way it was, I was also really curious as to why he was contacting me now?? But I knew I needed to tell my bf before I did anything. He said he would feel more comfortable if I didn't respond and I kind of agreed- but I said I was going to think about it and that I would tell him explicitly before I did anything.

Then the next day I got another call from a random number with my hometown area code- I thought there was a possibility it was R and decided to just act in the moment and let fate decide- I answered and it was him. It was kind of scary, but also exciting and didn't feel wrong in my body. He was weirdly casual just saying hi and that he saw my tiktoks and missed me, we ended up talking like old friends- like the time that had passed had healed some of that old stuff. He told me i was the best friend he ever had, and I remembered all kind of good things about our friendship. I also was able to apologize for ghosting him- if not super well. I knew while we were talking that my bf was not going to be comfortable with this and that I was unsure about what to do going forward and I think R kind of knew that was the case too, so it was also very awkward. when we hung up, it was clear I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to be his friend again.

When I told my bf as soon as i got off the phone, he was understandably very upset, even more so when I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep talking to R in the future. I feel really bad for hurting him, I was really mainly thinking about my own feelings. Now he and I are trying to resolve things, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know how I can make it better. I've told him that, even though it's not necessarily what I want, I'm willing to block R again, but I don't think it feels satisfying to either of us. my bf and I have been dating for 4 years now (with that break at 3 yrs) and he means so much to me, I don't want to bring us back to a place of distrust, but part of me feels like this was kind of pent up while I had R blocked. i've never ended a friendship with anyone before or blocked someone, so it all feels really weird to me, but I can imagine that my bf must feel really betrayed by my continued unsureness.

also R and my bf used to be friends for like 5 yrs- then R and I were close for 1 yr. my bf has said he felt left out by that and that he felt like R was a jerk to him while they were friends, so that's an element of it as well.

if you've read this far, thanks so much- advice? AITA? I've spent so much time feeling like scum for the way I handled the situation and while I have to love myself through it- I don't want to keep mishandling it- was answering the call all that bad, do I need to totally forget about talking to R?

What are these acronyms?

[lachlanmurraypsychology]

Ease Your Depression with Help of Psychotherapist

Today, we can experience that life is getting somewhat challenging. If you have ever struggled with depression or anxiety, you are aware of how quickly these feelings can consume your life. Your loved ones are also affected because they are at a loss as to how to aid you

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Mood disorders range from the seasonal (the "February blahs") to the clinical (manic-depressive disorder, bipolar disorder). The degree of your depression will determine how long treatment needs to last and how effective it will be.

  If at all feasible, try to schedule appointments on the same day and at the same time each week. This will help establish a pattern, the establishment of which you are likely to come to enjoy. In order to help you find some of your own solutions and responses, a Wickham Terrace Psychology professional will have you participate in conversation. They are well-versed in the art of questioning and can prompt you to think critically and recall relevant information.

There is more to seeing a City Psychologist than just answering a barrage of questions. They will tailor a set of strategies and advice to you that you may use to combat your depression in everyday life, considering your own circumstances and preferences. They might suggest some deep breathing exercises or a good book. They would provide you advice on how to handle difficult scenarios. They may also suggest that you attend a local support group, which is especially helpful if the cause of your melancholy is the passing of a dear one.

It is common to feel comfortable sharing intimate details with a psychologist that you wouldn't with friends and family. Psychodynamic Therapist Brisbane provide you a neutral perspective on your life and circumstances. Sometimes the people closest to us can be the most hurtful, even when they mean well.

Get a sense of how well you get along by scheduling in-person meetings with a few different psychologists. You should get to know them beforehand to ensure a smooth working relationship. Inquire about their experience, rates, and credentials before hiring.

It is quite crucial to locate a therapist with whom you feel at ease while seeking help for mental health issues. Find someone qualified in your area by doing an internet search. Try looking up "Psychotherapist" as an example. All local listings will be displayed. Have no fear of classification. A confidentiality clause is included in their code of conduct. You no need to worry about your privacy when meeting with Psychologists Brisbane. They will keep your privacy and never share any information from your file with third parties.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hi there. Can I request a poly relationship with Albedo, Xiao and Scaramouche ? A mix of fluff n a pinch of smut is this possible ?

First of all, what the fuck gave you this wacky idea? I thought at first, wow, this is so random, how did they think this. But then upon making the banner- IT'S ALL MY HUSBANDS IN ONE FICNWOFHLSNDLKSBSOANA

I'll do my best but oh gawd, I'm just so baffled right now HAHAHHA- brain juice GONE

Three Shorties Convention

Poly Relationship with Scaramouche, Albedo and Xiao... (event masterlist)

HOW?!

Three individuals from three different nations somehow collated to love a single human, that of which is you. With how wide your range is for such individuals, we can greatly assume that you are an adventurer travelling the world.

You first met Scaramouche who was undercover, on the way to Mondstadt/Liyue through boat. As he was in the down low, he made sure to act friendly to avoid suspicion. When he heard you were on the same path, he thought of using you as an alibi.

The next person you came across was Xiao when you were passing by the Inn. You heard of the Adepti residing in the area and wanted to ask for blessings as your journey would be much more confusing and dangerous. You lit up incense and a small prayer before leaving.

The last person you met was Albedo. Mond was your last destination before you laid low again until your next long expedition, and you were looking for Alice who you met long ago during your expeditions. You last heard about Mond from her and wanted to talk to her about your adventures but ended up empty.

What made them stay/intrigued? For Scaramouche, he saw you messing with the meteors and your theories, your disarrayed thoughts and ideas somehow made sense when he looks past the lines. And you ended up being the reason he found the large piece of meteor in that... island thingy.

For Xiao, it was the incense I mentioned earlier. It was something you got as a souvenir from a commission in Inazuma, and the scent it gave off brought him to Teyvat Nirvana, the voices silent and his body soothed. His curiousity got the best of him as he tracked your path.

And finally, you first piqued Albedo's interest when you mentioned your affiliation with Alice, and when he listened to your stories (you forced him to listen since Alice was not there) it remindee him greatly of his master.

All of them were attached so badly that on your way to the wilderness one day, the three of them ended up confronting you in some kind of JJBA way with you in the middle. Their Visions and weapons were raised in worry until you identified how you knew them all.

And when they found out of each other's interests towards you, they grew more wary but turned to you: who was busy picking up a mint flower to truly understand what's going on.

"I like all of you!" Somehow all three of them were smart enough to realize that you hold at least a drop of endearment for each of them.

It was supposed to be a silent competition, that then ended up to an ambiguous relationship through coexistence. The problem here is: all four of you barely understood the grounds of a proper relationship, and delved deeper into this polyamory without a second thought.

Equal Thirds

Oh geezus, this is the most confusing setup you've been through. Having to juggle between three continents, three men, three different occasions. They were so petty to the point that your schedule must be split EQUALLY or else the other two would ambush the place you would be in.

Albedo is the busiest and lax when it comes to your "relationship schedule." As a person of Alchemy, he takes days buried deep into his research and he is more than thankful for the existence of a schedule, as he struggles with the maintenance of human relations a concrete time and day for when he is needed balances this. Albedo requests your presence during the period after his major experiments where he wishes to unwind and empty his brain of the equations and machinations. His type of love deals with comfort and distraction.

Xiao has the most free time in your relationship in terms of work, but he is also the one tied down strictly to his code of conduct. His time with you comes from your visits to Liyue and he will always be by your side whether you're in the outskirts or within the mortal realm. His type of love, ironically, is filled with longing touches and whispers of adoration for your strength and light that silences the voices in his head.

Scaramouche is the neediest boy in this bunch, the most mortal of them and the farthest from your reach. Your relationship is a secret to everyone especially the Fatui, but he makes sure that every agent in Liyue and Mond does not lay a hand on you or else he's breaking that same limb. Your time with him comes when HE comes over no matter where you are or what you do. His 'love' is filled with materialism and feisty aura, revelling in strenght and power dynamics.

When you're in charge of the schedule is the rare times that all three of you are together, because you plan your expeditions well in par with their seemingly conflicting schedules. Soon enough you four would be a whole team of travellers going around Teyvat to indulge whatever curiousities you lay upon.

"Circus Festival in Fontaine? Sign me and my three boys the fuck up. No complains, I know you're free."

Camping and travelling with them is sooo convenient too because they're all incredibly strong in constitution and battle. You only need to hang back and watch as they bring you a fireworks of elements, which are thankfully not very harmful against each other.

You're NEVER hurt or even TOUCHED when they're with you, they always have keen eyes for danger and always stick close to you to make sure you are safe. But on a RARE occasion that you DO get hurt, they have a formation: Albedo is tasked in retrieving you, Scaramouche is the backup in clearing a safe area for possible first aid, and Xiao lets all hell break loose once you three are gone.

They help out as much as they can whenever you all go out to camp but ultimately it ends up being some kind of adventuring class for the three of them since you're the master in this field.

Cute stuff: You never keep watch because they always want to cuddle, so one would be up and the other two would be cuddling you on both sides, and the rounds would switch between them while you have your beauty nap.

Albedo is pretty chill with the other two, but Scaramouche and Xiao seem to have a tension between them due to his Harbinger status. Xiao is wary and protective of Albedo because of the knowledge of his background coming from Morax. And all three of you deal with Scara's chattiness.

Your Pet Names for them! Scaramouche: Darling; Xiao: Sweetie; Albedo: Beloved. If you go beyond that, they start to see favoritism so you picked them carefully.

Their Pet Names for you! Scaramouche: My Dear; Xiao: Beloved; Albedo: Sunshine.

Soon enough, their soft rivalries turned into friendly coexistence and they would start to at least see each other in a better light besides acquaintances. While nothing physical or lovey-dovey would happen between them as they only ever see you in that way, they develop respect and slight trust. Competition long gone as it dissolves into compassion in protecting you and giving you the loving you deserve.

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @kookieyachi @struggljng @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22

Softcore under the cut! No looking, my children

In this relationship, individual and multiple participating intercourse is normal, and they happen when all parties involved are ever comfortable. With the fact that you'll change continents in mind soon after, the boys have their little rituals with you.

The most prominent of all would be Scaramouche's signature hickey on your neck. He sucks it hard enough to make it stay for WEEKS, so that when the other boys move to kiss you on your neck, they see the apparent mark and groan to themselves in defeat. It was your sensitive and ticklish spot, and he makes sure he owns it.

For Albedo, he almost always (probably in a kink way) do it with you on a surface that's NOT the bed. Table, chair, sofa, his lap, it seems that the bed is a sacred place for rest. And he usually ends up doing it when he is about to finish his work, hence the convenience of such furnitures. You were conditioned to the point that if you even just innocently lean on a furniture, your mind and body immediately snaps back to those moments, making you back off with a flushed face.

Xiao is the most innocent and yeet friskiest of them all. He loves to litter you with kisses all over your body, no bites and no scratches, just innocent flutters of his lips that makes you tingle. But such moments of lovemaking... seem to always happen on the Inn's balcony. Most of the time it's when the door leading there is closed for the night, but you were sure there were occasions that someone at least knew or saw what was happening, but you two were too drowned in pleasure to notice.

Whenever all four of you were to participate, safe words are always emphasized. Because you're suffocating right after between their bodies with all holes filled to the brim with them. Usually the formation goes as: Albedo behind you, Xiao in front and Scaramouche in your mouth. They may switch up when you still have the stamina but that's their default order, and yes, you orgasm multiple times and are overstimulated a lot. To the point that you're getting used to it.

It's a golden rule to always shower before and after your session, and they would be very caring and gentle during aftercare. With this arrangement, you always have a large bed rented or in your arsenal for a huge cuddle session at night.

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 24

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

The boys have decided to grant you your space, but they can only wait so long.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of drug dealing, angry Jungkook curses (and calls someone a wh*re)

Jin walked around his casino, inspecting the area. Some players cast him glances, seeing the handsome suited male walked around with two guards and the casino manager in tow. Jin was extremely meticulous when it came to his places of business. 

“Clear this row. The machines look horrible. Order new ones.” Jin ordered. The manager nodded, opening his file to take note. 

“How’s the bar business?” Jin asked. 

“It is going very well, sir. Along with the new menu for the restaurant that you put in. We have patrons ordering finger foods.” The manager reported. Jin nodded his head in approval. 

“Sir, there have been some new business prepositions for you. From different suppliers.” 

“Prepare them in my private booth at the restaurant. I’ll go through them as a eat. Ask the bar to fix my drink too.” Jin gave a backwards wave as he headed to his office first. He stopped the guards just before the first coded door. After he punched the code in, he pushed open the glass door and headed in. There was another coded door to get through before he opened the double doors that led to his office. 

RINGGGGG

“Hmm?” He pressed the speaker button. 

“Hyung! S-She... (y/n)... She...”

“Jungkook, calm down and tell me what’s going on. This is about (y/n)? What’s wrong? I thought Taehyung was visiting her today.” Jin frowned, wondering what the maknae was freaking out about. 

“SHE’S GONE!”

“Gone? As in, kidnapped again?” Jin went closer to his phone. 

“No. Taehyung hyung came back from the hospital, he was a mess. Then he said something about the room being empty, her leaving her bracelet behind. He checked with the nurses, who said she woke up this morning and checked out right away.” 

“I see...” Jin didn’t really know what to say. 

“She left us!” 

“Jungkook, calm down. Get a grip. I’m coming home now.” Jin said and hung up, He sighed, gathering his things and heading out. 

“I’m going home. Put a hold on everything first.” Jin told the manager, not explaining much as he called for his driver. The car pulled up and Jin got in. he texted the other older ones on the way home. 

“Yoongi, Hoseok.” Jin exited his car just as the two came out. Yoongi chewed on his nail, he had been rather distressed since Hoseok dropped him off at his coastal hotel the other day. But he wouldn’t tell the others what had happened. 

“Namjoon’s inside with the younger ones.” Hoseok informed. They entered the side wing this time. The other 4 members were seated there. 

“Why did she leave...?” Jimin sighed. 

“She won’t return to work so quickly, considering she just woke up from her coma. Plus, she still has things to collect here. She wouldn’t abandon Kookie too.” Namjoon said. 

“Should we find her?” Taehyung jumped up. 

“No. She obviously wants to be alone now. It’s traumatic, even for someone like her. What we are used to, not everyone is. Us going to her house now isn’t going to change anything. She needs space and we have to grant her that.” Yoongi spoke. Everyone knew what the older said was right. They knew where your apartment was, yet they knew they shouldn’t go. 

“Then we just wait for her to come back and speak to us? What if she never wants to see us again?” Jungkook panicked. 

“Even if she does, she still has a contract to honour with our family. She’ll have to come see Namjoon, at least, to nullify it. I know for a fact, that she’ll stick to that.” Jin said. 

“I thought I could finally hold her.” 

“That’s all we wanted as well. But sometimes, things just don’t go our way.” Namjoon tried his best to comfort the maknaes. 

“I have some important business to attend to. I’ll be back tonight.” Hoseok said and left immediately. Yoongi stood up as well, heading to his office here, slamming the door shut. He needed to see you, there were so many things he needed to ask you. 

“Please, take a seat.” Yoongi gulped as he closed the office doors behind him. The visitor nodded, taking a seat on one of the couches. Yoongi wiped his sweaty palms on the thighs before sitting opposite him. 

“What can I do for you... hyung?” He asked. 

“I know everything, Yoongi.”

“W-What do you mean?” Yoongi’s eyes widened. 

“Your friend, the lady doctor, she came to see me the other day. She offered to be my doctor and surgeon.” Geumjae explained. Yoongi was speechless, not really knowing how to react. 

“Of course, I said no. And she respected that, surprisingly. Everyone else was pushing me to get the surgery since it gives me another ‘chance at life’ but I didn’t want to go through all of that. Then, she told me something.”

“What did she say...?” Yoongi asked cautiously. 

“She told me just how much of our father’s burden you’re carrying, even after his death. How much you’re living with the guilt of everything that he caused and how you have taken all the blame on yourself. She made me realise how even though the past hurts, living my life, hating someone who’s not even at fault, isn’t worth it.” He sighed. 

“Oh...” Was all Yoongi could say. 

“Yoongi, as much as I hated our father, I knew it was wrong of me to blame you. You’re not him. I just... what he did to my mum, I needed someone to blame. Even after his death.” Geumjae sighed. 

“It’s okay. I knew whatever dad did... I can never undo it.” Yoongi looked away. 

“But that’s the thing, my omma and I shouldn’t have expected you to undo it. You never needed to and yet, we made you feel like it was your duty to.” Geumjae said. 

“Before her death, she stopped blaming you and your mum, knowing that it was never any of your faults to begin with. There was no point blaming a child and mother who was kept in the dark just as much as we were.” He continued. Yoongi nodded his head.

“We were all just disposable in dad’s eyes. He never cared about us at all.” Yoongi spoke, it was the truth. 

“You’re all I have left, Yoongi.” Geumjae looked at Yoongi.

“You too, hyung. All I ever wanted was just to have you as an older brother, I hated it when dad spoke about you like you were nothing, when he blamed you when he caught us playing together.” Yoongi’s voice grew soft. 

“When I knew you were ill, I tried to get (y/n) to do the surgery. I didn’t care if you hated me. I just wanted you alive.” Yoongi revealed. 

“Yoongi...” 

“That’s why I went to see you. That’s why I told you, if you want me to never find you again, you have to go for the surgery. Because I knew that would be the only way to make you do it.” He wiped a tear. 

“There’s a lot of missed time to make up for. I’ll do the surgery.” Geumjae reached over to hold Yoongi’s hand. 

“Y-You will?” Yoongi’s eyes widened. 

“Only if Dr (y/n) does it.” Geumjae stated. Yoongi nodded his head. The two brothers stood up, hugging each other. 

“Will you ever forgive me, Yoongi?” Geumjae asked.

“I have never once blamed you to begin with, hyung.” Yoongi replied, his words muffled by his brother’s shoulder slightly. That’s why Yoongi needed to find you first and didn’t even mention any of this to the other boys. He wanted you to be the first person to know how he made up with his brother and how it was all thanks to you. 

Yoongi bit his thumbnail as he looked out the window. He swirled the ice cube around the whiskey glass before taking a sip. His shoulder ached, he knew he was over working it too quickly. 

“Hyung?” He turned around to see Jimin there. 

“Jin hyung said to give this to you.” He handed the older a small ziploc bag with some pills inside. It was probably painkillers for his shoulder. Even now, Jin was still the only one that had the key access to your medicine cabinet. 

“Thanks.” He popped the pills into his mouth, gulping it down with his whiskey. If you were there, you would have scolded him. 

“How’s Tae?” Yoongi asked after a short silence. 

“He’s doing better. It was just the initial shock... You know like what happened with his noona. But he calmed down, Namjoon hyung took him to DNA to do some housekeeping.” Jimin informed. Yoongi nodded. 

“Good.” The older sighed. Jimin left the office, going back to his dojo to train, just to get his own anxieties out of his system. Namjoon drove this time, casting glances to Taehyung every now and then. Taehyung just stared out the window, a distant look in his eyes. 

“You know, the last time I bought flowers for someone... I found my dad beating my noona to death.” Taehyung suddenly spoke. 

“Taehyung-”

“Today, I bought flowers for the girl I love, only to find that she doesn’t even want to see me anymore. Just took off and left.” Taehyung sighed. Namjoon didn’t reply, just letting Taehyung be. 

“Are you sure you can work, Taehyung?” Namjoon asked. 

“Of course. Sorry.” Taehyung cleared his throat. Namjoon didn’t mean that rudely, he just wanted to snap Taehyung out of it. 

“We’re here.” Namjoon stopped the car and parked. The doors were opened for them by the guards of DNA. They bowed as the two entered. Namjoon and Taehyung went upstairs to where the 7′s shared office was. They sat inside, going through all the paperwork they have missed. With Taehyung around, Namjoon didn’t have to do it all alone. 

“I thought we were housekeeping. I brought my favourite bat for nothing.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. Namjoon chuckled at the disappointment evident in the younger’s voice. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your action. Our men told me that there has been quite a drug problem here.” Namjoon informed. 

“Not by our dealers?” Taehyung grew surprised. Unauthorised dealing of drugs in Bangtan territory wasn’t common since Bangtan has its own dealers. The boys were always controlling what drug gets dealt with and how much of it. 

“Do they know the culprit?” Taehyung asked. 

“We’ll catch him ourselves. Tonight.” Namjoon smirked. Taehyung grew excited, it had been a while since they’ve caught someone themselves. 

When night fell, Namjoon and Taehyung left their office. Taehyung slung his bat over his shoulder, the splintered wood a contrast from his stark, dark green suit. The two stood on the VIP balcony, sipping their drinks quietly as they observed the club being filled. 

“I think we’ve found our dealer.” Namjoon said, swirling his drink in his crystal glass. Taehyung followed his leader’s line of sight, a smile slowly growing on his face as they emptied their glasses and walked out of the booth. 

Jungkook had left after the older ones spoke of the plan to not seek you out, he returned to his fighting ring since there was a high staked, big fight tonight. 

“Mr Jeon.” The workers bowed. Jungkook ignored them, straightening his jacket.

“Get me a drink.” He said as he walked up to his regular, protected booth. Entering, he removed his jacket and sat on the plush couch. He leaned back comfortably, crossing his legs. 

“Sir.” His attendant bowed deeply, placing Jungkook’s usual drink order over a napkin on his side table. Jungkook shooed him away and he scurried away. 

“Hmm...” Jungkook looked at the iPad, scanning through the fighters that would be sparring today. He clicked on a specific fighter’s profile and immediately bet 10 million won. All he had to do now was sit back, relax and watch his pet win. Jungkook wasn’t an impulsive gambler but he was a confident one, ‘don’t put all your eggs into one basket’ didn’t apply to him. 

“Jungkookie.” A female’s voice entered the VIP area where he was sitting. Jungkook ignored her, eyes trained on the people coming in and placing their bets for the fight. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” She had the audacity to sit down beside him. Jungkook took a sip of his drink. 

“Who let you in?” He asked, not even looking at her. 

“I told them I’m with you and they let me in.” She giggled. Wordlessly, Jungkook stood up and headed to the door. Grabbing the guard by the back of his collar, Jungkook dragged him in, throwing him to the ground. 

“So you just let anyone in now?” Jungkook hovered over him. 

“N-No, sir! I’m sorry! She told me she was with you and I know that a girl is usually with you-”

“Don’t you dare compare her to that wh*re over there.” Jungkook cut him off with a menacing hiss. The guard shut his mouth, pursing his lips. 

“You’re fired. Get out of my sight and take the wh*re with you, since you like to listen to her so much.” Jungkook growled. His patience was already running thin from the events earlier today and he wasn’t about to let someone else test it again at his own place of business. 

“Jungkook, don’t you think-” Jungkook, gaze still trained on the guard in front of him, took his gun out and pointed it at her. She screamed and ducked behind the couch. 

“Get out!” Jungkook roared and the two ran out as quickly as they could. 

“Unless you see a member of Bangtan, no one is to be let into MY booth. You understand me?!” Jungkook shouted at the other guard, who jumped in fear, saluting and nodding his head. Jungkook slammed the door. 

“F*ckers trying to test me.” Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair and dropped back down onto the couch. 

*KNOCK KNOCK*

Jungkook looked through the glass to see his fighter standing there with his manager and the ringmaster. Giving a nod of approval, he waved for them to enter. The fighter and his manager walked behind the ringmaster. Seeing him bow to Jungkook, the two bowed respectfully. Jungkook stood up, going to the fighter. He scanned his figure. 

“Mr Jeon.” The fighter bowed. Jungkook smiled. 

“You have a lot of potential. I’ve got my money on you tonight.” Jungkook faked kindness. The manager’s eyes widened. 

“Thank you so much for your kindness, Mr Jeon! We- I mean, he won’t let you down!” They bowed again. Jungkook hummed with a nod, patting the fighter’s shoulder encouragingly. 

“That’s good to hear. I’ve seen you train so I know you won’t let me down.” Jungkook chuckled, sitting back down.

“Have a great fight. I’ll be watching.” Jungkook waved. The fighter looked out the viewing glass that faced the ring. He visibly gulped and nodded his head. 

“Thank you again, Mr Jeon.” The manager bowed and guided his fighter out. The ringmaster stayed behind. 

“After the fight, we’ll keep the kid. However, not a big fan of the manager...” Jungkook smirked. That’s all Jungkook needed to say for the ringmaster to understand what he meant. The ringmaster nodded and bowed deeply before exiting the room. 

--

You sighed, stretching your fingers. 

“Great work, everyone.” You nodded to everyone in the surgical suite. The nurses and other attending doctors bowed to you. You walked out the double doors, pulling your soiled scrubs off and tossing them into the bin. 

“Good job. As always.” Your mother was there, waiting for you at the exit. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled. You can only imagine how happy your mother was when you told her that you would be working here temporarily. There were some skills that you needed brushing up on and honestly, you wanted to avoid 7 people for a while. 

“I’m gonna take a break.” You walked away from your mother, heading to the stairwell. You entered the rooftop of the hospital. 

“You’re such a coward. You know that?” You shook your head at yourself. Sitting on the only bench there, you tucked your hands into the pocket of your coat.

A few days ago, you had sent a message to Namjoon, asking for time off and that you will contact him shortly regarding you contract with the family. You didn’t even wait for his reply before blocking him. 

“You look like you need a hot chocolate.” A new voice appeared. You stiffened slightly, turning around. 

“Found ya.” He smirked. 

“I wasn’t exactly hiding. Besides, I knew one of you were bound to come and seek me out. Although, I can’t say I expected you to be the first one.” You chuckled. He held out a cup of hot chocolate and you received it. You opened the lid, watching the steam escape for a few seconds before taking a sip. The sweet beverage comforted you. 

“You’ve cut your hair.” He pointed out. You nodded, reaching up to touch your now slightly short hair that ended just above your shoulders. You wanted a change and this was the best you could do. 

“How are you doing?” He asked, sitting on the bench beside you. 

“Surviving.” You shrugged. 

“Really?” He wasn’t convinced by your vague answer. 

“I shot someone, I killed him. I’ll forever live with the guilt of his blood on my hands but do I regret it? No. It needed to happen.” You sighed. 

“We know there was a boy that helped you escape. We found his body in the room and gave him a burial, it’s only right.” He took a slip of paper out of his wallet, handing it to you. 

“He’s there.” He informed. You looked at the address and number on the paper, nodding with a hum before putting it in your pocket. 

“Are you done with work for the day?” He asked. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving with you. I asked for an indefinite time of leave. That means I want to be away from all of you.” You snorted. 

“We don’t have to leave. We can stay right here. But now that I think about it, I’m sure I’m the only one in the family that hasn’t told you how I joined Bangtan.” He looked at the city skyline before him, a small smile on his face. You blinked, turning your head to look at his side profile. 

~~

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[tennessoui]

You know one of my favorite Star Wars fic tropes? Evil, feral Anakin being horribly mistreated his whole life and hurt, and then being comforted and nursed back to health by Obi-Wan. And instantly imprinting on him, like, in a "I will kill anyone for you" way. Could be any Obi-Wan! Nice Obi-Wan for that sweet sweet hurt/comfort and kisses and turning Anakin from his murderous ways with the power of kindness! Evil Obi-Wan for sweet double trouble action and delicious obsession with each other!!

this is also one of my favorite star wars tropes!!! i love a needlessly protective and feral Anakin who distrusts everyone except for Obi-Wan.

unfortunately. um. this went a little sideways. and there is no being nursed back to health. but there's some delicious obsession and protectiveness and also future mutual obsession so i'm counting the prompt fill as like 3.5 out of 5 stars for following the prompt, which is. let's be honest, higher than most of my prompt fills. this is a bit dark and contains references to mind tricks, but there is no sex or kissing that could be construed as dub con. just like. dub con emotions i guess

(2.2k)

Quinlan has that look in his eyes, as if he’s about to say something that he knows Obi-Wan won’t like.

Carefully, Obi-Wan puts down his cup of tea and laces together his fingers in his lap. He can already feel a seed of anger blooming inside of him. Since Anakin has re-entered his life and the Temple, he’s found that this deep, swirling rage is harder to give to the Force. And easier to feel at a moment’s notice.

Like almost all the differences in his life now, this can be put on Anakin through no fault of the boy’s own.

After all, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, it is much easier to feel this sort of fury at the galaxy’s injustices when living with someone who has suffered most all of the most grievous kinds.

“Just say it, Quinlan.” Obi-Wan says.

Vos clears his throat. “Where is...your charge?”

“My charge,” he repeats, unimpressed. “You know his name.”

“I know both of his names,” Quinlan fires back. “Does he prefer Anakin or Vader?”

The anger inside of him grows larger at the mention of Vader. As if Anakin would ever prefer the name Sidious gave to him. As if he had chosen it for himself.

As if the Jedi had played no part in the birth of Vader.

“Anakin is asleep,” is all Obi-Wan says.

Quinlan makes a show of peering down the hallway of Obi-Wan’s quarters to the two closed bedroom doors. “In whose bed?”

His hands tighten into fists beneath the table. “That is a bold accusation to make.”

“Why?” his old friend’s posture is forcibly casual, slumped in his seat and hand loosely wrapped around his cup. Obi-Wan wonders if this is how he looks when he’s undercover on missions. The thought settles heavily into his stomach and makes him sit up straighter. If this is a mission to Quinlan Vos, then what is his objective? What does he want with Obi-Wan?

With Anakin?

“The boy’s legally allowed to spread his legs for anyone he wants, Obi-Wan. He's nineteen and everything.”

Obi-Wan can feel his teeth grind together. The fury in his chest is building at an alarmingly fast rate. The thought of anyone touching Anakin like that when the boy’s so obviously traumatized and in need of a tender hand--if he were a lesser Jedi, he’d snarl at Vos to leave.

“Any consent Anakin offers anyone would be dubious at best,” he snaps. “He is nineteen, but he has spent the past ten years of his life being tortured and enslaved by Darth Sidious.”

Quinlan narrows his eyes and looks over Obi-Wan’s face. “That’s not your fault,” he finally says quietly, leaning forward as if to grip his arm before he thinks better of it. “Obi-Wan, listen to me. What happened to Anakin is tragic. Awful. Despicable. But it is not your fault.”

Obi-Wan looks away, his jaw clenched tightly before he forces himself to relax. “I only blame myself for not verifying what I was told.”

“Do you blame the Jedi Council then? For sending the boy away?”

“My master begged me to train the boy, Vos. And while I was in the Halls of Healing, they sent him back to Tatooine. And no one ever checked to make sure he got there. Sidious grabbed him because we--because they allowed him to. And then spent ten years torturing and breaking down a child right under our very noses! Who would you blame, Vos?”

“Sidious,” the other man answers easily. “The Council had no way of knowing that Sidious even knew about the boy, that he was in any danger at all--”

“He was nine!” Obi-Wan roars, slamming a fist on the table, unable to swallow the dark, heavy fury anymore. “He was a child. A slave! They were going to send him back there!”

“To his mother!”

“To his chains,” Obi-Wan corrects fiercely.

Vos purses his lips and crosses his arms. “He is not a child anymore, Obi-Wan. He’s a killer. He’s dangerous. It’s worrying to me that you can’t see it. Or don’t want to see it.”

Obi-Wan wants to scoff. Anakin Skywalker is not dangerous. The boy gets night terrors, begs to be let into Obi-Wan’s bed, and can only sleep if he’s being cuddled up against his chest. He holds his blasted hand in public because he’s terrified of being separated from Obi-Wan again. He’s refused to even touch his lightsaber since the first night Obi-Wan stumbled upon him, bleeding in one of the lower levels of Coruscant. There are some days he won’t even let Obi-Wan touch him to hold him, and he shakes apart in the shadowy corner of his closet, reliving traumas Obi-Wan can’t help him with.

Dangerous. Dangerous.

“No, Obi-Wan, come on. You have to see. The boy’s turning you against the Jedi, against the Council!” “He doesn't need to," Obi-Wan says coldly. "The Jedi seem to be doing a fine job of that themselve."

“That's what I'm talking about!” Vos exclaims, waving an incensed hand. “The Obi-Wan Kenobi I knew would never say that! He would never think a bad thing about the Order, let alone say it! Let alone threaten to leave in the middle of a war if the Council didn’t grant him permission to keep the boy in his rooms! People talk, Obi-Wan! They’re not being kind!”

A thought bubbles up in Obi-Wan’s mind, vicious and sharp. Obi-Wan should not expect kindness from the Jedi. Not about Anakin. Everything they’ve ever done to and said about the boy proves that. Obi-Wan would have to abandon Anakin again to ensure the Council’s kindness and trust in him.

Obi-Wan would rather die than abandon the boy now when he needs him so obviously. He’d rather Fall than turn his back on Anakin, even if that’s what it took to stay in the Order.

“I think you should leave, Vos,” Obi-Wan murmurs quietly. “I think there is little left to say.”

His old friend stares at him from across the table in shock before he stands up without another word. At the door to his quarters, he freezes but doesn’t turn around. “You are attached, Obi-Wan. The Jedi Council will not stand for it. They will not allow it to continue.”

There’s something off with his voice, but Obi-Wan is too concerned with what he’s said to focus on anything else. “What do you mean?” he asks sharply, springing to his feet.

But Vos just shakes his head and leaves.

Obi-Wan collapses back into his seat as the door slides shut behind the man, his head buzzing with thoughts. That had sounded like a warning. Would the Council be so bold, so cruel, as to separate Obi-Wan and Anakin forcefully?

Yes, the thought flashes across his mind, followed by a swell of fury.

And then there’s a sleepy little questioning tug on the bond stretching between him and Anakin. His charge must have just woken up and found Obi-Wan still missing.

Obi-Wan tugs back, helpless against the urge to comfort Anakin. The bond explodes in a tidal wave of joy, the way it always does when Obi-Wan uses their illicit connection to communicate. He hadn’t in the early days, too afraid of the Council and the Code to do something so forbidden.

Now he cannot seem to muster enough regard for the Jedi to care. It is nice to feel Anakin in his mind, where he belongs. Where he’s always belonged.

---

In the bedroom that Obi-Wan keeps on insisting is not theirs, Vader allows his eyes to open as he slips out of meditation. He had been too forceful there at the end with Vos, fed him the exact words he needed him to tell his new master.

That sort of mind trick is too sloppy and easily discovered. It is much harder to trace emotional manipulation, especially over time. He’s been doing it for months now, the Jedis’ mental shields no match for his raw power trained to be sharp as a vibroblade.

It’s all just been a matter of slowly strengthening the other Jedis’ already existing mistrust and doubt about him, all the while crying to Obi-Wan about his past and his fears. It served to highlight the Jedi hypocrisy to his new master, and when he felt that first seed of anger grow in Kenobi’s mind, he encouraged it to grow faster.

The downside, of course, has been that Obi-Wan sees him as a scared child in need of protection. Vader is working on that too though, lengthening the touches they share and letting his shields fall at inopportune moments, like when he’s playing with himself in the fresher, so his master understands that Vader is capable of bringing him pleasure of all kinds.

It’s very important Obi-Wan understands that he can get everything he needs from Vader alone. There will be no one else, for either of them.

Sidious will die soon. The Jedi will die sooner. Vader and Obi-Wan can take their proper place, as Emperors of the Galaxy.

After Obi-Wan falls, of course.

It won’t take long now though.

Joy at the thought of one day looking into Obi-Wan’s golden eyes pushes Vader out of their bed and into the common area. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand a few times, and then it’s Anakin who’s crossing the space separating him from his master so he can settle in Obi-Wan’s lap.

Obi-Wan accepts him into his arms immediately, and Anakin has to fight the urge to smile in victory as he squirms in an attempt to get comfortable, only stopping when he’s straddling his master, sitting directly over his cock.

He wraps his arms around his master’s neck and buries his face in the juncture between his shoulder and throat.

Feeling daring, he licks slightly at the skin there, just to feel the way Obi-Wan’s hands tighten on his hips. “Missed you,” he murmurs, inhaling greedily.

Nothing in the entire universe smells as good as Obi-Wan, holds Anakin as gently as Obi-Wan, cares as much about him as Obi-Wan does.

He’d kill everyone in the galaxy for his master, if it was asked of him. He wouldn’t even think twice about it. And one day, soon, his master will feel the same.

Especially when his pesky Order has been dealt with, an execution order stamped with Sidious’ name. The only good thing his old master has ever given him.

The Jedi will die, Anakin will be blameless, and Obi-Wan will be safe from harm’s way. That’s why he’d had to push Vos so messily at the end there. Obi-Wan needs to be safe before the planned Order #66, and there’s no telling what Sidious will do now that Anakin has escaped.

“I heard voices,” he prompts, when Obi-Wan seems content to just sit silently and trace shapes on the bare skin of his back.

Obi-Wan hums. “Yes,” he admits. “An...old friend came to visit.”

Anakin bites gently at the skin of Obi-Wan’s throat and pulls back enough to make eye contact. He doesn’t know if his eyes are blue or gold right now, but either way Obi-Wan seems entranced by them. Riveted.

He pouts. “Your old friends never stay around long enough to meet me,” he says with a tremble in his voice, as if he cares about Obi-Wan’s old friends.

Obi-Wan reaches a hand up and thumbs over Anakin’s bottom lip. Anakin holds his breath. It’ll ruin everything if he sucks at it right now, despite how much he’s craving to map the whorls with his tongue.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathes out, and Anakin changes his grasp so he’s now holding tightly to the front of his robes. “I must tell you something you may not want to hear.”

The Dark inside of him roars and snarls at this statement. If Obi-Wan has decided to make him leave, Anakin will not go quietly. Anakin will kill the entire Jedi Order himself, until this glowing angel--so warm, so bright in the Force--only has him.

“The Council will try to take you away from me,” his master murmurs.

Anakin makes his eyes go round and wet. It’s not even that much of an act: he just has to think of Obi-Wan agreeing with his stupid Council, and suddenly he’s appropriately tearful and afraid.

“No, no, Anakin, don’t cry,” his master croons, grasping the back of his neck and touching their foreheads together. Then, in a firmer tone, he says the words Anakin has been waiting to here for months. “I will not let that happen. We must leave the Order. I’m sorry, dear one. I can only imagine how much you wanted this place to be your home.”

Anakin has to rip his head out of Obi-Wan’s grasp and bury it in his neck so his dear master can’t see his smirk. Oh, Obi-Wan. The man may never understand that the only thing Anakin wants is already holding him tightly against his chest.

But Anakin will remind him. Anakin will remind him for the rest of his life.

“When do we leave?” Anakin whimpers, wondering if he’s overdoing it slightly, but Obi-Wan’s grip on his back only tightens.

When Obi-Wan speaks, his voice doesn’t waver at all. There’s not a single shred of indecision in his force signature either. “Tonight,” his master says, brushing a barely there kiss against the crown of his head. “We leave tonight.”

Vader smiles in bliss and burrows impossibly further into his master’s arms, nipping at his master’s skin again, just because he knows he will not be pushed away. This is the safest place in the galaxy, and now it will be his forever.

Victory tastes sweet. Obi-Wan’s skin tastes even sweeter.

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[flecks-of-stardust]

hey, i was looking through your bug fables liveblog playthrough, and i had tried my hardest to figure this out for a good while but i have a question;

what is the explanation behind the leafbug portrayals in the game being racist? i’ve tried to figure it out for the sake of awareness, but i couldn’t find any sources. don’t feel obligated to explain if you don’t want to, feel free to delete this ask for your comfort.

its racist but possibly a better way to put it is that it plays into a lot of anti-indigenous tropes. for the record, i am not indigenous, so my insight on this front may be somewhat limited, but ill explain as best as i can.

the first time you hear of the leafbug tribe is when youre going into an area that is, directly stated or otherwise, not part of bugaria. theyre Outsiders that do not understand the culture of bugarian bugs. they also have their own language that is 'gibberish' that, funnily enough (/s), no one ever attempts to understand. this sort of othering is already a red flag, because its not portrayed in good faith. add that to the fact that you have to fight them for... no real reason in the game, and its really not painting a good picture.

im pretty sure the leafbug tribe is also explicitly described as primitive, somewhere? which is a very common and egregious anti-indigenous sentiment. theyre different, theyre not knowledgeable in science or whatever the fuck, they have their own brutal customs, theyre just unintelligent beasts that are obstacles in our path, and to get through we just have to kill them. do you see any parallels here?

one of my biggest issues with how the leafbug tribe is portrayed is that, again, there is never any attempt on any of the bugarian characters' part to properly communicate with them. for gameplay reasons they're 'just enemies,' sure, but why? why did the devs make the choice to paint a whole enemy tribe in this light? and also, why does the leafbug tribe have to fight the protagonists anyway? even if they're protecting their territory, why would they feel the need to protect it if they didnt have outsiders who never explain what theyre doing here traipsing on their lands?

one of the worst instances for me would be the team maki side quest where yin becomes an adult moth. maybe im just confused at where exactly the leafbugs live, but that section of the map is in the far grasslands, in wasp kingdom territory. the swamplands are connected to the grasslands, but the specific area yin metamorphoses in is not near it? but then surprise! you have to fight the leafbug tribe! because... idk, theyre convenient antagonists. shrug, its a video game. except its really not just a video game.

fundamentally, the portrayal of the leafbug tribe plays into a lot of anti-indigenous tropes, and everything about them is done in bad faith. the writing of bug fables already has other flaws, and there is another instance of racism in the bug fables universe—cough cough, elizant the second with ladybugs—and also given what ive heard of the devs im just. very wary, and very tired. to be fair i dont think they intended to native code the leafbug tribe, but these sorts of biases are very ingrained in popular culture and media, and just because its common doesnt make it less hurtful. especially not when its this blatant.

im not sure how clear this explanation and analysis is, but its as good as i can muster. other folks with more personal experience/knowledge may be able to contribute more. either way, i resent how the leafbug tribe was depicted.

[sallyf4ce]

wolves

chapter IV

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, violence, homophobia

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: (y/n) and travis make up (ish), (y/n) gets hurt again (you really shouldn’t be surprised), larry gets a little moody (i don’t think he likes (y/n) very much), sal makes a move on (y/n) (although he doesn’t know he did)

“You’re (y/n), right? New kid?” Travis looks at you as you press the wet cloth to your nose. You nod.

“How’d you know?”

“Sal said it. he muttered. The disgusted look on his face was proven a facade by the blush on his cheeks.

“You’re in love, buddy.” you laugh.

“No i’m fucking not! You’re so fucking stupid, what the fuck? Who could love a faggot like Sally f-” you cut him off my shoving his head into the wall roughly. You don’t know what came over you, but being homophobic is still homophobic even if you’re in denial. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t about sally, it was just you being an ally. Way to kill the mood, travis.

“You pull that shit one more time and I'll leave you without teeth, blondie. Or would you rather i tell your dad that you hit girls?”

He squirms underneath your palm. “Sorry.” he looks at you with a pleading face.

You sigh and let him go. “S’fine. You need to learn how to control your anger, though, fuckface. You’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude.” stuffing the bloody towel in your bag, you lead him out the door.

“I hate you.” Travis scoffs.

“What did i say?”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“Larry, she’s already closer to travis than she is to us and they just met. Travis is a full-on dick, and they’re being all friendly! I didnt even know that was possible!” Sal chucks his bag in his locker. He hasn’t known you for long, but longer than travis! Plus he’s way nicer, too! Why’d you have to go and get all friendly with his bully?

“I don’t fucking like it either, sally face. Maybe we should just stay away from them.” Larry crossed his arms and leaned against the lockers.

Sal didn’t want to stay away from you, though. You were sweet, he was sure, just a little distant. Plus you just sort of intrigued him. He wanted to know why you were like this, what happened to you, why you had a prosthetic. Maybe it was hypocritical of him, though. He's only told Larry and Ashley about what happened to him, so he shouldn’t be picking at your trauma. you’ll tell him when you feel comfortable with it, but you’d need to be comfortable with him for that. and right now, it seems like you’re pretty comfortable with his bully.

“let’s go, dude. class starts in 5.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

After grabbing your schedule with Travis, you set your stuff in your new locker (which smelled pretty good, surprisingly.) and began walking to your first class, math. Travis laughed at you when you read your schedule outloud and you gave him a whack on the head. What an idiot. He headed off to his first class, english.

you opened the door to the classroom and coughed to get the attention of the teacher, Mrs. Packerton.

“Ah, lovely! Class, say hi to (y/n) (l/n)!” she smiles as you awkwardly wave.

“You’ll be sitting in the back, right beside Sal.” an inaudible groan leaves your cracked lips as you make your way towards him, trying not to make eye contact.

“uh, here.” he moves over. you plop yourself down next to him and open your notebook.

“we’re doing a test right now. i’m pretty sure you won’t have to do it, since it’s your first day and all.” his blue hair bounces as he looks over to you again. it looks fluffy.

“you wanna touch it?” he chuckles. you don’t want to come off creepy, but he’s offering, right?

you reach out your prosthetic hand but quickly pull it back and switch it, realizing you can’t actually feel with it. he chuckles at your mistake and leans in to your touch.

you were right. it felt like clouds, puffy but still silky. it wasn’t combed properly, though.

“Mr. Fisher and Mrs. (L/n), you little lovebirds. hands to yourselves, please.” Mrs. Packerton laughs a little. “Ah, young love.”

you quickly pull your hand back and flush.

“stupid old lady.” you mutter.

“Mrs. P’s nice, she’s just a little… enamoured in her students’ love lives.” sal laughs.

“stop, you’re making her sound like a pedophile!” you cover your mouth to suppress your laugh and sal’s face heats up even more. He made you laugh!

You both quieted down as Sal continued his test and you doodled in your sketchbook.

“are you okay? after travis, you know.” he hummed, a mix of concern and jealousy swirling in his eyes.

“uh, yeah. i’m fine.”

“You sure? Your lips look pretty busted.”

“It’s all good.”

“why do you hang out with him, anyway?” he turned his test upside down and faced you again.

“what do you mean?” you’re confused.

“he hit you in the face first thing in the morning. If i was you, i wouldn't really like him.” sal gripped his pencil.

“are you jealous?” you question, a smirk on your face.

“No.” his expression is hidden behind his mask. you look into his eyes, trying to make him blush.

the blue is a different blue than the one you saw yesterday. it’s lighter, almost like a porcelain blue.

“whatever you say, porcelain face.”

“porcelain face?”

“your mask, and your eyes, i guess. they’re like a porcelain doll’s.”

he hums.

“what are you then? metal hand? cyborg? fist of steel?”

“you forgot iron fist.”

“iron fist?”

“sure.” you grin. sal’s heart flutters again.

“Alright children, please hand in your tests and nicely file out the class. The bell will ring any moment.” Mrs. Packerton smiles sweetly and starts collecting tests. You grab your bag and leave the class.

Sal looked around the room for a bit, looking for you. A flash of (h/c) hair leaving the room catches his eyes. He tries running after you, but you’re already heading towards your next class.

•Lunch time•

“Shut the fuck up, Trav. I said she was stupid, not stupid hot. I don't know where you got hot from! I literally never said it.” You shoved his shoulder. He just snickered and continued teasing you.

“Hey, (y/n)! Come have lunch with us!” Sal saw you walking with travis. He waved you over from the cafeteria. Travis immediately stopped laughing and sneered. He quickly began walking over to sal, raising his fist.

“Leave us alone, fucking fag-” travis swung at sal but you stepped in front of them, raising your arm to cover sal’s face since he was taller.

Travis throws punches like a wrestler, You already knew that. Maybe you shouldn't have used your real hand to catch it.

His fist slammed into your forearm roughly and you flinched.

“Fuck- travis, go cool off. Now. Leave.” you hold onto your arm. It stings, but it's not broken. You’ll be fine.

“You’re all a bunch of-” he stops mid sentence as you give him a glare. It sort of said ‘you’re gay too, dumbass.’ he scrunched his eyebrows and walked off.

“Oh my fucking god!” a girl with brown hair ran over to you and lightly grabbed your arm.

“This her, sal? Are you (Y/n)?” she looked at you. She seemed very sweet. Kind of reminded you of your cousin.

“Uh- yeah- can you let go?”

She smiles in apology and lets go.

“You didn't have to do that, (y/n).” sal scratches the back of his head. You’ve gotten hurt twice because of him. How are you supposed to be friends if the only thing sal does is hurt you?

“I think maple might have an ice pack in her lunch. Can you come sit with us?” He hopes you say yes.

“Yeah, okay.” you needed the ice pack and travis was nowhere to be seen, so you didn’t really have a choice.

“Hey, (y/n).” Larry grumbles as you walk to their table. It seems he’s upset with you.

“I just saved your buddy from travis. Not to your liking or something?” you look up to him. If something’s wrong, he should just fucking say it. Not beat around the bush like a pussy.

“Yeah. you and travis seem to be getting along well.” he finally makes eye contact with you. Sal and the girl seem uncomfortable.

“We all got our issues, asshole. Some of us just know how to deal with them better than others.” You sneer. He’s allowed not to like Travis, but he’s not allowed to be a bitch to you because you actually understand his actions and choose to help him instead of ignoring him.

“Whatever.” he spits. You turn to sal.

“I’ll get my own ice.” you begin walking away. “Also, watch your dog.” you hear sal chuckle as larry groans. He walks up to you before you can leave, Larry throwing his arms up in the air in disbelief.

“Hey, uh, (y/n)? I’m sorry you got hurt. Could- could i make it up to you somehow?” his hand is on yours. It’s warm, he’s probably blushing hard under his mask.

“Sure, sally. How would you do that?” you spin around to face him. You can see his mask rise a little and his smile peaks through.

“Do you have a phone?” he pulls his cell out. It’s just a simple black flip-phone with a few paint splatters.

“I do, it’s in my locker. I dont have my number memorized, though. Stupid area codes.” you mumble. “You wanna come get it with me?”

Sal looks back to his friends. Ash is nodding frantically while Larry twirls a cigarette through his fingers, still mad.

“Alright.”

taglist: @purelydarling @deadpoetsandhoney @ghostfacefricker6969 @percyyzz @whatsurgamertag @kiillian @potatochic2003 @beingaweebishell @glitterydonutangel @izzydrawsandwrites @angellicbitch @elebeleb @dream-of-eros @mr-bombastic

[chuu-nct]

healer ; seven

➳ pairing: ateez x reader

➳genre: gang au, amnesia au, angst, romance, fluff, suggestive, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, possible smut

➳rating: M

➳warnings: mentions of death and weapons

"(Y/n), I think I've been a tad bit too hard on you."

You sat in front of a desk confused and undoubtedly stiff as Hongjoong had called you to his office for a 'chat'.

"I thought you would need more time to heal and blah blah blah - but you've surprisingly gotten up on your feet quite quickly," the leader smiled sheepishly as he leaned on the front of his desk, "tonight at the dinner table you'll be able to meet the rest of the members that you loved oh so dearly."

As the words came through his mouth, your eyes widened in happiness and something in Hongjoong's mind clicked as he took notice.

"Are you serious? Finally!" you exclaimed, jumping out of your seat while almost making the chair fall back.

Hongjoong laughed as you heard Seonghwa kiss his teeth from his desk, who you kept forgetting was even in the room. You were interested to know more about the older male as he seemed like he could be the leader aside from Hongjoong in every aspect - but he wasn't.

"That's all I really wanted to discuss with you so you can go."

You nodded as you made your way towards the door until you froze as you placed your hand on the doorknob, "Actually Hongjoong, I've been confused about what I'm supposed to do here... Jongho and Yeosang always seem to need to get back to their 'post' or 'work' but since I'm not in bed anymore is there anything I should be doing?"

Hongjoong's eyebrow slightly shifted as his lips turned at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, you used to help San and Yunho with their work but since you seem to have forgotten them maybe you should just take a day off!"

"San and Yunho? Who are they? What do they do?" you questioned.

Standing from his area, Seonghwa gathered his papers as he lead you back to the door, "Yunho is our designated hacker while San is our dealer. You used to help Yunho with some codes, counted the money that San would make, and tracked how much product we had."

Your mind spun with the new information as you heard about all the work you used to do and how much you helped in the group. Yet it irritated you that even though the members told you all this information, you couldn't remember any of it.

For some reason, it made you feel useless.

"I don't think you're going to get your memories back that easily, (Y/n)."

"I mean, it's what happens in movies! When they see familiar faces or places they get some memories or something!"

"So you can remember movies but not your members."

After you left Hongjoong's office, Jongho guided you to the kitchen as he said he needed some help cutting the vegetables. You felt happy that you could still laugh and have a nice conversation with someone like him despite everything in your mind feeling chaotic and restless.

"I'm excited to meet everyone... what are they like?"

"Well, who've you met so far?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to recollect all the members you'd actually talked to, "well there's you, Yeosang, Hongjoong, Seongwha, Mingi... and I guess that's it."

"Then you only need to get introduced to three more of our members. There's San, Yunho, and Wooyoung."

"Wooyoung?" you asked curiously, "I only heard Seonngwha mention San and Yunho."

"Wooyoung is an interesting guy," Jongho laughed, "he's our weapon holder and occasional 'designated gambler' too."

As the two of you walked down the hallway, you thought about all the different roles everyone has in the group and it made you wonder what your role was.

"Jongho, it's time I take her off your hands." Your thoughts were cut off as you looked to see Seonghwa walking towards you, "Hongjoong instructed me to show you around the house an 'official' guide. If we see any of the members you haven't met then you can meet them as well."

Jongho simply nodded his head and glanced slightly towards you, walking past Seongwha and leaving you behind.

"Well then, how about we start at the gardens outside, then make our way indoors?" the older male asked as he raised his arm in the direction of the nearest door.

His sudden stoicism made you smile a bit as you remembered how much more casual he was when he was in Hongjoong's office. You followed Seonghwa in silence as you felt the sunlight hit your figure the moment he opened the door. "So, this is our garden. Hongjoong's mother always had a fascination for flowers since she was a botanist. None of us particularly enjoy caring for this garden anymore but Hongjoong insists we keep it lively in honour of her."

You walked with Seongwha around the quaint garden you had seen a couple of times since you had awoken but it piqued your interest to hear more history and meaning behind things in the house.

"In honour of her? Is she... never mind," you quickly caught on to your mistake as you scratched the back of your neck.

Seongwha took a deep breath, "she's since passed due to an accident on the road. It wasn't anything involving this lifestyle but..." You looked in pity towards the older male as he recollected himself and looked at you with a slight smile, "let's just continue."

Making your way back into the house, you couldn't help but become more curious about Hongjoong and his past. You probably knew more about him but it frustrated you that you lost all the memories you had about them.

It felt like you were around complete strangers.

"You've seen the main floor already so I'll just explain things quickly," Seonwgha began as he stopped in his tracks, "the kitchen is where we all eat together. All of us always eat together unless something comes up. And the living room is where we mostly hold meetings since the empty room which we planned to turn into a group office, turned into your bedroom. And of course, your bedroom was made to be on the first floor so that the boys wouldn't bother you upstairs."

You chuckled, "so if that room was empty, where did I use to sleep?"

Seonghwa's eyes widened as he coughed and began to stutter, "that was always your room. It was never empty."

"But you said-"

Letting out a loud cough, Seonghwa brushed off his shirt, "let's continue. Shall we?"

You nodded, deciding to let go of the subject as you followed him up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"I assume this is going to be the most boring part so," he sighed before he continued, "me, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung share the room on the left. It's mainly for us to keep an eye on him."

"Why would you need to keep an eye on him? Is he-"

"Yeosang and Jongho share the middle room while Yunho, Mingi, and San share this one, on the right," Seongwha finished as he cut you off. "Next, we should make our way down to the basement since that's where-"

He was suddenly cut off by an unfamiliar figure coming out of the room on the right. Your eyes widened at the man's handsome features from his sharp jawline to his intimidatingly inviting eyes. You weren't the only one shocked, however, as the man in front of you and Seongwha stopped in his tracks with a towel around his neck and the water from his hair trickling down his neck.

"(Y/n), this is San." Seonghwa introduced. "San, this is-"

"(Y/n)!" the man named San exclaimed, catching you by surprise and throwing his arms around you, spinning you so he was beside Seongwha rather than you. "Wow, I can't believe I'm seeing you again! I seriously thought you died," he laughed until the older male elbowed his side.

San's enthusiasm made a smile appear on your face until it slowly disappeared again. "I'm sorry I don't really remember you... maybe we can become as close as we were before! Hongjoong told me I used to help you with your deals-"

"He said what?" San questioned in surprise.

"He said she used to help count the money you made after your excursions," Seonghwa cut in and spoke through a seemingly forced smile.

"Right!" San stuttered, "you were just out for so long that I forgot we used to do that together!"

You looked at the two men, confused about their awkward and strange composure.

"Jongho told me I was only out for like a night..."

Seongwha's eyes widened as he instinctively grabbed a hold of your wrist, dragging you away, "okay! I think that's enough from San. What a jester," he laughed as he looked back and glared at the younger boy.

"He seemed like he was acting weird."

"He's always that that," Seonghwa stopped as he tried to catch his breath before continuing to lead you into the basement. "Our basement is actually the largest part of the house since it's where everything is; the practice rooms; weapons; drugs-"

Your mind seemed to become blank as you heard the things Seonghwa said. Weapons? Drugs? Was this really the life you lived?

"Here we are." Your eyes widened at the large space in front of you. In the middle was a small open space, similar to a living room as it had three couches with a small table. On both sides of it, however, were two long hallways with several doors. Noticing your entranced state, Seonghwa smiled to himself before continuing, "in the left hall we have all the training rooms from physical combat to weaponry. On the opposite side are all the materialistic things like weapons and supplies. It's a pretty simple system, you just have to get used to where specific things are."

"Would you look at that! It's (Y/n)."

You suddenly snapped out of your trance by a new voice, only to see a man with tan skin and equally gorgeous hair.

Seonghwa sighed in what seemed like a disappointment. "(Y/n), this is Wooyoung-"

"It's a pleasure to see you again," Wooyoung cooed as he walked towards you, taking your hand in his and leaving a kiss on the back of it.

"Seongwha! Wooyoung!" you heard a voice similar to Jongho's call from the top of the stairs, "Hongjoong called an emergency meeting, we need you two up here now!"

Looking towards Seongwha, Wooyoung made his way up as the older male turned back towards you.

"I'm guessing 'you two' meant that I shouldn't come..."

Seonghwa's eyes furrowed in pity as he put his hands on your shoulders, "just stay here for the time being. Sit on the couches, don't touch anything, and just don't go into any of the rooms," he smiled as he quickly followed Wooyoung upstairs.

You sighed in slight disappointment and sadness but you knew the boys couldn't yet bombard you with missions since you had just woken up. You made your way to one of the couches as you looked around only to see a picture frame. You looked behind you to be sure no one was around; Seongwha told you not to touch anything but curiosity got the better of you.

You examined the image as you noticed a child who seemed to be Hongjoong when he was younger due to some similar features. The young boy in the picture was stood in between two women, one in a lab coat and one in a plain white dress. However, your eyes widened as you noticed a familiar-looking pendant around the neck of the woman in the white dress. Quickly going through your pocket, you pulled out the pendant that you remembered belonged to your mother.

It was the only thing you could actually remember.

You frantically looked back and forth at both the pendants as your mind was filled with never-ending questions.

The woman in the picture had to have been your mother.

But how did Hongjoong know her?

"(Y/n)...

I thought Seonghwa told you not to touch anything."

•:•.•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:

I haven't updated in so long :(( my mental health hadn't been the best so i needed to take some time off! i'm hoping to start updating this again soon though!

happy new years my loves. may 2022 bring you all so much joy, happiness, and many blessings ♡

- g

•:•.•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:

➳ six | eight

➳ masterlist

.•:•.•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:

[tag list] : @yeosangmystar @pandabur666 @harry-the-pottypus @joonsmoonchild @soonwoosz @fairygirl18

[youryanderedaddy]

♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk 

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k 

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t. 

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst 

              AD 3061y., 14 September

 Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

 The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

 It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud  covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

 After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

 “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

 “The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

 “The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

 “Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

 “Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

 The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

 “Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

 “Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

 A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

 But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

 “ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

 “My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

 “What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

 “We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

 “This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

 You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

  “It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

[sanchosammy]

“Let me show you how much I need you.”

Description: Jealousy makes people do very stupid things... Like disappear when Mando tells you not to leave your spot. When a dangerous bounty with an aggressive attitude tries to kill you, it forces you and Din to face your feeling’s for each other.

WARNINGS: Death, Pain, Bruising, Jealousy, Small bit of NSFW (but not really really), strip clubs?, cursing.

Word Count: 4,130. - This is dedicated to @warrentrash for getting me into The Mandalorian.

You knew what was coming, and somehow you found yourself still bothered by the sight. The place was a real shit-hole. The spacious area had several different platforms spread out with Twi’lek women on each one of them dancing for men. You noticed the smell that lingered inside the space and it never seemed to leave, it was unpleasant to say the least.

You looked over at Mando with an expression that showed how uncomfortable you felt about this. The location and business were incredibly sketchy; you had an unsettling feeling that some of the women here didn’t have a choice in the matter. And the idea of Din looking at half-naked women made you surprisingly insecure, but that was a conversation you were avoiding with yourself.

The two of you had flirted often, but it remained just that. Flirting. There was no official title behind it, which left you nervous about losing him in nearly every situation that involved a woman. He hadn’t even kissed you and you weren’t sure if he was even allowed to. The Mandalorian code flashed through your mind as it often did whenever you tried to imagine something serious with Din.

He paused to watch you for a moment behind the visor of his helmet, before he replied quietly “I know, we just need to find the guy; we won’t be here longer than we need to be, I promise.”

You nodded in understanding. You walked in together, both of you looking at the different men from the back of the room. None of them looked like the bounty. He was here though, you knew he was because of an inside source… Okay, his girlfriend sold him out.

The music was loud. You found yourself leaning into Mando for the sake of privacy of your conversation, but your heart quickened at the closeness between the two of you anyway. “I’m worried we stand out together like this. It looks suspicious.”

He was silent for a moment, and you could tell he was weighing the options in his head. There was nothing Din hated more than leaving you alone anywhere, no matter what the circumstance was. It didn’t matter the bounty, or errand, he had you in his sight for his own peace of mind.

“I don’t know, I don’t like this.” He commented blankly. His voice revealed his uneasiness even through the helmet.

You sighed as you looked at him, a pleading on your face. “Come on, Mando. I’ll sit in one corner and you can do the same. I’ll still be in your direct line of sight. We came all this way and I want to catch the asshole.”

The payment for this was above the average, and you wanted this success for the both of you. This specific bounty had stolen beskar from someone and you knew this meant something to Din for that reason alone. He processed your request before reluctantly agreeing.

“Listen to me, do not leave this room. If you see him, whistle.” His tone was pressing with seriousness, and you could feel him intensely staring at you. An unspoken message that he was not at ease in the slightest. You somewhat enjoyed how intense he could be, the tension it created sometimes was indescribable.

“Okay, I got it.” You nodded. Almost anxious from the restless feeling of wanting to catch the bounty. As you turned to walk off his hand stopped you by the arm. He hovered over you for a moment as he spoke, his voice coming out husky. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

You swallowed hard and forced a breath out “I promise, Din.” There was a pause from him. He seemed to register something; maybe it was just your promise, but it felt more than that. His hand released your arm and slid down the sleeve before he separated from you finally.

It almost left you frozen there to think about what that was, but there was no more time to waste in this. You found yourself seated on a carved bench near the back of the room in the direction of a dancer. She was surrounded by a handful of men who watched with eager eyes, and you couldn’t help but to grimace in response.

However, this looked a lot more natural than before and that brought some relief. As you looked around the room in hopes of finding the criminal, your thoughts shifted elsewhere. You recalled hearing in the past that Twi’lek women have the ability to seduce people through a telepathic field, and you wondered if there was some truth to that.

This information created worry in you deep down. It only made you think about Din again. What if he liked all of this? You cringed knowing something happened between Xi’an and him before the two of you met, and that only made you feel worse about this.

In an attempt for some comfort you looked for Din. You just needed to see him sitting somewhere looking for the bounty just as you were. Searching for his helmet you noticed he was no longer in the seat he was just moments before. You bit your lip and sat a little taller in response, why was your heart racing this fast?

Your palms became clammy from the feeling inside. Then you saw it. Mando leaned against the wall in a conversation with a woman. She appeared to be one of the dancers here, and you found yourself nearly sick from the thought. What could they possibly be speaking about? He looked so casual and willing to be in her presence.

It was irrational to be upset and assume things, but you couldn’t stop your reaction as you watched her hand slide up his arm. Your face was as warm as the Razor Crest’s engine from the bitterness burning inside of you. The sight of another woman touching him in such a way was the limit for you. You stood abruptly before storming off in the opposite direction no longer able to stand the sight of it all.

There was no real plan on where you’d be going after this, but you didn’t have a chance to figure it out before hands wrapped around you. You didn’t have a second to let out a scream as the person covered your mouth pulling you into a secluded room. Panicked, you put up a fight to get out of their grasp. Elbowing them in the face before you stumbled further into the small room at the sudden release from them restraining you.

It was him, the bounty you’ve been searching for the past thirty minutes. He was a massive man with a face that was mean as shit. A scar down his eye was the first thing you noticed, and then the smell of alcohol hit you hard.

“I’m so sick of you Guild motherfuckers.” He seethed in anger. “I should have sent this message earlier,” He slowly stepped forward and you noticed the knife in his hand. You pulled your blaster from the holster and aimed without hesitation. He paused in return of the action.

“We don’t have to do it this way, Badar.” 

He scoffed in response to your plea at peace, and a grin appeared on his lips instead. Suddenly without warning he lunged forward in an attempt to hit your exposed neck with the blade. Leaning back just enough somehow saved you from this near death experience, and this pumped adrenaline through you in response. With a swift grip on his wrist, you twisted his arm behind him in one move and shoved his face into the nearest wall. The knife hit the ground because of the pressure to his arm and you remained with the blaster against his skull.

“I don’t want to kill you.” You breathed heavily from the action. 

He chuckled in response seemingly unphased by the possibility of his own death, and it made your blood run cold. Like a predator teasing their prey, he spoke out calmly “Kill me while you have the chance because if I escape from this, I’m going to watch the life drain from you.”

He counted down from three. Your thoughts were spinning in your head. You didn’t want to kill a man no matter what he had done. You weren’t ready to live with that decision, but you knew he was going to end your life if you allowed him out of this position. He had spoken a promise in those words. You had nothing to restrain him with as Mando had the cuffs on him.

As soon as you heard him say one; you pulled the trigger from fear but nothing happened. There was a soft sound of the metal clicking but not a thing happened in response. It had stopped working completely. There was an awkward pause between you and the man, both of you processing this information at the same time.

That you almost killed him and now you were defenseless.

He pushed his shoulder back hard to throw you off balance, and you stumbled backwards to the floor. He turned around and you could feel his knuckles crash into your face. It hurt like a bitch, but you didn’t have a moment to process before he pulled you from the ground and slammed your back into the wall.

There was a scuffle as you fought back. You did everything you possibly could, punching, kicking, scratching and he nearly slipped up at one point. This only encouraged his anger. His hands found your neck and held you just above where you could touch the floor.

“You should have let me killed you with the knife. It would have been over so easily, but now? I want to watch these pretty eyes roll in the back of your head, you little bitch.” His hands tightened after he practically spit in your face.

You tried to reach for his face to stun him or something. Anything to bring back some of the air in your lungs. It was painful and you could feel yourself starting to suffocate under his grip. He looked so amused the closer you seemed to death.

Death. This scared you. You didn’t want to die looking at some criminal as he practically was high from your painful demise. You wanted to see Din one last time. You wondered where he was as you were saying goodbye to the galaxy. Had he even noticed that you’re gone by this point? You couldn’t imagine how awful it was going to feel when he found your dead body in a private room of the club.

You grasped your fingers around his hands in an attempt to pry them off. The feeling of your body shutting down from the lack of oxygen terrified you. It all felt so weak and tiring. Your eyes fought to stay open in fear they would never open again after this.

“Please stop.” The words hardly came out. They sounded strained and unendurable. Finally, you start to nod off and you could feel your eyes shutting without a fight this time. 

The sound of the door being kicked open would have startled you if you weren't hanging onto life by a thread. The sound from a blaster hardly reached your ears, but you found yourself hitting the floor directly after it went off. 

The man laid on the floor next to you. The only difference was you could breathe now, and he had stopped. He was dead with a hole through his head. You wanted to react, move away from his lifeless body, but you were so weak you remained still struggling for air.

Din shouted with the blaster still aimed at the dead bounty’s head. His voice filled to the brim with rage “You’re lucky that’s all I did to you.” 

The world faded in and out for you. Din’s tender voice, almost shaking with concern, calls out for you. “(Y/N)?” His hands softly pulled you into his hold “Hey, hey, stay with me kid.”

The world around you faded to black. It only felt like a few moments, but when you looked around the room again you found yourself in the Razor Crest instead. It was moving though, this meant the two of you had left the planet far behind by now. The soft hum of the ship became comforting. You thought you’d never hear it again after what happened in the club.

“You’re awake?” Din asked, causing you to jump. You noticed him standing near the bed, a fresh cup of water now sitting on the storage box that was being used as a nightstand for you. Forcing yourself to sit up in the small bed, you nodded silently in response.

“How do you feel?” 

“My throat hurts.” You whispered. The ache in your throat was bothersome, but it was not the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. You’ve had yourself plenty of stupid fights and mistakes resulting in painful recoveries. Nonetheless, you wished this was one you could have avoided. Looking in his helmet visor, you could see the reflection of your bruised neck. The bounty’s handprints displayed for everyone to see in an awful color.

Your own hands shook a little as you lifted them to your neck, touching the bruise with a sickly feeling in your stomach. A reminder of your almost death, how this was past a simple fight but nearly the end of your life. You hardly noticed how Din’s hand turned into a fist at his side as he watched the moment silently. Your eyes trailed back up to his helmet wondering what you could possibly say in this moment.

“Did he… Is he dead?” You asked not confident you wanted to hear the truth that you already knew.

“Yes.” 

With a heavy sigh, your shoulders fell from regret. This was all your fault. You failed the mission and in return placed Mando in an uncomfortable position. The bounty was supposed to come back with you alive. If you had remained in your spot as promised, this could’ve been avoided. Din wouldn’t have another death to blame himself for.

“I’m sorry.” is all you could find the words to say.

His head shook while he looked at the floor of the ship. Avoiding your careful watch. This didn’t feel like disappointment or sadness from him, but you could feel a form of anger coming from the Mandalorian. You’ve come to learn over time that you didn’t need to see his face after being around him for so long, his body language could speak volumes for him.

“You promised to stay in my range of sight, (Y/N).”

“I know. I shouldn’t have left…” You didn’t finish your sentence, Din cutting you off from continuing but his tone remained level.

“No, there is no ‘shouldn’t have’ in this. If you can’t follow orders, maybe you shouldn’t be in the action.”

You looked up at him suddenly. Eyes practically burning into him from anger and disbelief. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You failed horribly, but he didn’t need to make you feel so much worse about the situation.

“Screw you, Mando.”

“I’m not the one that almost died tonight.” He spit back as he stepped forward. You both found yourself glaring at each other, you could feel his stare through the helmet. The way Din carried his shoulders when he was furious with someone was something you could spot miles away after spending so much time with him.

“I bet you wish I would have died tonight. Then you wouldn’t have to have this conversation anymore, right?” You found yourself standing up with fists balled at your sides as you continued without skipping a beat. “Not to mention you wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore! And you could spend all your time sweet talking Twi’lek women instead of watching over your partner. What a perfect world for the great Mandalorian.”

By the time you finished your little explosion, you wanted to leave. To hide from him, his disappointment and anger was something you couldn’t take right now.

He paused, startled by what you said in the moment. The words finally register in his mind.

“What?” Confusion and concern filling his voice as it was softened now. Looking down not wanting to meet his face, you attempted to hold back the tears in your eyes.

He moved to stand in front of you, “You think I wish you were dead?” 

You didn’t answer him. His hands softly cupped each side of your face, lifting your eyes to meet his line of sight.

“I would have killed him again.” You could feel the distance between you close, the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. Though it wasn’t his own skin, it felt almost as intimate considering no one had been this close with Din. “And again… I would kill anyone who hurts you.”

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow. The tension made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, but you forced yourself to face the real reason this all happened. To face the feelings you’ve kept bottled up over time.

Your voice came out quiet, nerves getting the better of you. “Why weren’t you watching over me in the club… Why were you with that woman?”

He pulled back a little, a small hurt washed over you from the lack of contact now. The warmth of his hands pulled away from your face.

“I was bribing her for information. What did you think was happening?” He questioned curiosity in his voice.

You bit your lip holding off from replying. The pressure of what to say building up. You wanted to tell him how you truly felt. How much you found yourself in love with him as each passing day went on, but you didn’t want to lose the bounty hunter if he didn’t want that life with you.

“I thought you wanted her… Instead of me.” You felt embarrassed saying it out loud, you could feel your cheeks warm at the confession of your own lips. How stupid you must’ve looked being jealous over a man that wasn’t yours.

For a moment he paused. The silence only increased your nervousness. After a few seconds passed and the dread became too heavy on your shoulders, you wanted to escape. You messed it up. You’ve ruined the adventure the two of you shared. 

You mumbled under your breath as you started to pass by him, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The idea of silently crying in the fresher of the ship sounded perfect right about now.

He stopped you by your wrist before you could move past the privacy curtain he had hung for you from the beginning of traveling together. His hand softly keeping you in place. You forced past the nerves to look at him, and he seemed unsure of himself. For once the confident bounty hunter seemed unsure.

 He decided to speak finally, his voice hesitant “Can I try something?”

You couldn’t find any words to say. Instead, you gave him permission with a nod. He pulled you to the small bed and guided you to sit on the edge before he disappeared. You watched your leg nervously bounce before he returned with a small black cloth in his hand.

“I need to cover your eyes.” He said in a gentle tone, and you could feel his nerves matching your own.

“Okay…” you whispered. He leaned to his knees slowly in the space between your legs and that alone brought the longing for something more.

Space travel didn’t bring a lot of time to consider such intimate situations. Unless you found yourself in a partnership with someone who was your own, but Mando had never had something like that. He had a few mistakes between him and Xi’an, and you hardly remembered any of the less special memories of hook-ups in the past.

He was careful as he placed the cloth around your face. It perfectly covered your eyes as a makeshift blindfold. You were nervous and confused. Unsure of what he was doing all of this for, but you trusted him.

“Is it too tight?” He asked and you could feel his concern in his voice. A small smile spread across your face for only a moment.

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You have to keep it on. Promise me, please.” Fear was wrapped in his words.

It started to click for you. He was scared because he was doing something he has never done around you, or anyone for that matter. He was going to remove the thing that protected his honor. It was his religion. The most important part of him and his life, and the only thing he has known since childhood. He didn’t want to lose it because of someone else’s selfishness.

“You have my word.” You said reassuring him. No hesitation in your expression or tone. You wanted nothing more than for him to know he could trust you with this. That he was safe with you in this way.

Your sense of hearing was heightened from the lack of sight available now. You listened to the sounds of his gloves slowly being removed off and tossed next to him, and then the helmet being placed on the floor.

You could feel his face close to yours. He was in reach, but you remained still. Nervous about what he wanted to do here, and not wanting to push his boundaries in any way. You could still feel him in the space between your legs and your breath faltered in response.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice came out without the sound of the helmet covering his natural tone. His voice was just as deep without it. Just as gruff as before but now it sounded so natural, so heavenly in your ears.

“Yes.” you whispered with your stomach in knots. 

His lips connected with yours, and his hands returned to your face. You could feel his calloused hands against your soft skin and it reminded you this was real. Not a dream, but the actual touch of his fingertips. Your mind wandered to think of his face, the feeling of facial hair pressed against you and it brought more questions to your mind about his appearance. At this point you truly didn’t care though, Din was someone you wanted no matter of his look. 

The kiss was slow, remaining at a cautious pace. As if Din thought you would change your mind at any moment. You hardly noticed one hand moved from your face to hold you by your waist sometime in between the lengthy kiss.

Disappointment filled you when he started to pull away after several moments. Already craving every possible touch you could get from him. Before he completely slipped away from your presence, you held onto his hand keeping it against your cheek. Holding it there as you gently rubbed your thumb against his hand.

His forehead pressed against your shoulder. You wondered how long it had been since he had been in such an intimate position with someone, or if he had been in this kind of situation with anyone at all in his years. 

You stiffened when something wet touched your neck. A long shaky exhale came from Din before he pulled his arms around you, holding you in a tight embrace. You fought against the urge to pull away to check on him, instead returning the favor to comfort him in your arms. 

“I watched the life fade from your eyes.” His voice broke as he remained tucked in your embrace. He held onto you as if you would disappear the moment he pulled away. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything that keeps me human.” 

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m here.” 

He pulled away from your arms and returned to the spot in front of you again, his hands slowly trailed to rest on your legs. Your heart skipped a beat when a gentle kiss was placed on your shoulder. His lips tracing the bruise on your neck leaving soft kisses behind. 

“I promise you, cyar'ika. No one will ever touch you again.” You shuddered as he made the promise leaning into your ear before returning to kiss the bruise one final time.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He allowed a moment for you to say anything that sounded like a hint to stop, but you remained patiently with your blindfold on. A soft kiss was placed on the side of your temple as a confirmation. 

Din’s voice came out quiet and deep “Let me show you how much I need you.” 

Taglist: @warrentrash​ @mandoclan​ @imaginesandideas​

[ginanosakka]

I’ll Always Love You

Masterlist

Let It Go | Next

“Mom?” Ryu whimpered the moment he heard your voice, tears coming down his face like an uncontrollable waterfall.

Katsuki stepped to the side knowing this wasn’t his moment, and you kneeled down to meet your son’s eyes in the doorway of his father’s massive home that gave you chills despite only giving it one glance. You smiled gently at Ryu as you caressed his cheek, giving him a moment to let all his emotions out before you comforted him. After all, you were his mother, and whether he really did hate you or not won’t stop you from being the best damn mom there is.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Ryu sobbed with his eyes shut tightly and fist clenched at his sides. “I’m supposed to be a hero like dad and I hurt you. . I was just so mad.” He did his best to explain, and having already been where he was at a much older age, you understood.

“I was wrong for not telling you when there was a chance you could meet him, and one day I’ll tell you why I couldn’t. . but I need you to believe me when I say you aren’t ready yet. You can hate me all you want for now, but just know I’ll always love you no matter how you feel about me, okay?” You smiled, taking your hands off his face so he could wipe it with his sleeve and give you the smile that you had grown accustom to seeing every single day.

“Don’t worry, even if dad is some cool hero, you’ll always be better!”

“Eh?! What did you say, you little-“ You looked up sharply, daring him to call your precious boy out of his name. “Whatever,” he huffed and turned his head like a child.

“Y/N?”

You stood up and looked past Katsuki to his living area where a familiar redhead sat wide eyed looking at you, and you gave him a polite smile. Kirishima was one of those ones who wasn’t persuaded by your dad’s money to befriend you, but he treated you kindly back in the day when you ended up around him through Mina or Katsuki. He looked great now, especially still in his hero costume that exposed his entire torso, and you were glad to see that he was alive and well as a hero.

Kirishima was floored, on the other hand, remembering you being a pretty girl back in high school, but you were a grown woman now. He couldn’t figure out if it was bearing a child that turned you into something fiercely gorgeous, or how well you dressed your body even in casual clothing to make you look like you belonged on the cover of every magazine. It wasn’t hard to see how his friend had become so domesticated in the span of a few days when you looked like that, and the way you talked definitely wasn’t dimming your light.

“Hello Kirishima, or should I call you Mr. Riot?” You joked, and Eiji nearly combusted.

“C-Call me whatever you like,” he stuttered out with a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Katsuki’s blood pressure sky rocketed as he watched you two interact — he didn’t know whether it was because you treated him like an enemy, or the fact that you had hooked his best friend — and he growled before snatching you by the wrist. His touch wasn’t aggressive, which is why you didn’t immediately attack him, but you were still very uncomfortable with contact with him. Still, you would let it slide for the sake of peace now.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki said with his red eyes staring deep into your soul like he was trying to predict what you would do. “That freeloader can watch Ryu while we talk, he’s good with kids.” He persuaded you using Ryu’s safety, and after receiving an accepting nod from your son, you nodded in compliance yourself.

He lead you into a room you assumed was his, and you gently pried his fingers off your wrist. “Alright, let’s really talk this time.” You said, mentally preparing yourself for what he had to say.

“I want to apologize”.

“. . What?” You blinked several times in shock at the words that came out of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped but composed himself with a sigh. “I’m sorry. . for everything. I didn’t realize how bad you probably had it, and I know you weren’t ready to tell Ryu about me yet. . but I want to be in yo- his life .” Katsuki said, silently cursing himself for letting his apology run off into something that could piss you off.

He was surprised to see that you weren’t giving him that same defensive attitude you had been — to be fair, that was his own fault — looking like you were seriously considering what he was saying. You had to really think about how Katsuki would do in his life, because it wasn’t like he was an everyday civilian like you were. His life was in danger at all times and that danger could easily transfer to your son if the press caught wind. As strong as your boy was, you didn’t want to think about a villain trying to use your baby as leverage.

Neither of you talked about it, but the press already had your face on magazines and online articles after that one restaurant incident and you were completely aware of it. They’d never be able to recover who you were though, as most of that information was buried well enough by your father to keep you from having any connection to him that they’d end up in jail for trying. All the information they could find was about your rehabilitation company that was faceless to the press since you didn’t want them hounding you when you lived in a small and accessible home with Ryu.

“Can you honestly tell me you can keep him safe after those press monkeys attack?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him expectantly.

A malicious smile came on his face, “If anyone even looks at him I’ll blow their asses to Hell!”

“Good. You’ll have to tell me when you have days off to come pick him, and I’ll make a list of things you need to know in case of an emergency. I’ll work on it when I have time at work tomorrow. Anyways, thank you for watching-“

“Wait,” Katsuki cut off your rambling about the changes you’d have to make. “Mina told me what happened with your idiot of a father, so you take care of Ryu on your own?” He questioned and you shrugged in response.

“Yeah, why?”

“. . If you’re having trouble with money you can stay with me so you don’t have to live in that small-“ The realization of where he was going clicked in your head at the mention of your house, and your mouth fell into a small ‘o’ for a moment.

“You think I’m living there because that’s all I can afford,” you said matter-of-factly, but you didn’t feel offended. “Dynamight, I have enough money to live next door to you. . In several different countries. It’s just that I don’t like all this open space with no one but Ryu and me. . . . It feels lonely and unnecessary.” You explained your situation, and his brow furrowed.

“You used to live in a mansion.”

“Exactly,” you responded. “Speaking of your home, I have to leave. Who knows what Ryu could get into when you haven’t child proofed this place,” you laughed lightly to yourself.

Katsuki would never admit it, but he really preferred to hear you laughing over yelling at him.

You walked back into the living room where Kirishima was. . doing push ups with Ryu on his back. The boy sat cross legged on the exposed back of Kiri as he went up and down with a mischevious grin on his face, and Kirishima looked so focused you would think he had just been challenged to a life or death battle. You didn’t know whether you were impressed with your son’s ability to persuade people, or frightened by how much devious intent he could hide behind that cute face.

‘I’ve created a monster,’ you internally laughed nervously.

“Ryu, it’s time to go. Say bye to uncle Kirishima and your dad.” You instructed going to stand by the door with your keys in hand.

“Uncle Kirishima.” You watched as the red haired man collapsed on the floor with tears in his eyes, “that’s so manly!”

‘. . . The fuck is so manly about that? How is he still even friends with a psycho murder machine when he lives by the code of manliness?’ You thought, rubbing your temple gently.

Katsuki walked out just in time for Ryu to jump off Kirishima’s back and wave at them both, “bye uncle Kiri! Bye dad!” He cheered and ran to your side.

“I’ll see you later, kid. Be nice to your mom, alright?” Katsuki said gruffly, but he didn’t meet your curious eyes that stared at him after his last request.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, little man!” Kirishima said after he composed himself, and you nodded at them both in a silent goodbye.

When you left, Kirishima found himself watching as Katsuki as he sat back down on the couch leaning forward with his arms on his legs, staring at his hands with a lost look in his eyes. Kirishima knew that look, it was how he felt when he thought he wasn’t good enough to be a hero; the look you get when the things you care about aren’t there or attainable. Katsuki was so out of it that he hadn’t even though to kick him out yet like he usually did after a short while.

“Bakubro, I don’t know a lot about this , but I can tell you that a man would do whatever it takes to chase his dreams,” Kirishima said as he stood and clapped a hand on his blonde friend’s shoulder. “Don’t let something good get away from you.”

Taglist <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @fireworkemoji102 @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @ladybeautiful18 @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian

[ruby-whistler]

a complete list of my writing and analysis

[ updated: 29/08/2021 ]

PSA's and the like:

- therapy vs. emotional support - on excusing c!tommy's actions because of ptsd - static vs. dynamic characters on the dream smp (outdated) - important things to keep in mind during analysis and discussions - characters aren't synonymous with their past actions - the dehumanization of c!dream in the dsmp fandom - tag your positive posts! / tag your crit! - welcome to dreblr - the unofficial guide

memes and joke posts:

- what freaks out the dream smp fandom - c!karl & c!dream my beloveds <3 - dream apologist vibes - scratch that no vibes send help - the "i'm you" c!ranboo bit is beginning to make a lot more sense - "fighting with words" and "talking with violence" on the smp - the fandom's both biased and hypocritical apparently - *casually hates on l'manberg again* - "why are you a dream apologist?" - "c!dream and techno are imminent threats" yeah sure- - the five stages of grief ft. ruby (3rd life smp ending) - hermits' vibes by ruby; the only trustworthy source of information /j - l'manberg weren't pacifists nor the victims in the war - ...so c!wilbur said c!dream apologists are partially right - it's "l'manberg" and i take no criticism - why are we here, just to suffer - why friend isn't in wilbur's limbo - look, i don't excuse c!dream's actions. ok maybe some of them- - c!everyone apologists are the best at analysis - apparently we have the most angst and hurt/comfort fanfic. Why - meme through the pain i want him back pls - dream apologists are an unstoppable force of nature - this is how endersmile happened, right - the only valid dsmp citizen meme - oh look i still follow booktubers - i want you all to suffer as much as i suffer dealing with you - i like c!dream for being horrible. fight me. // genuinely love him too - the l'manberg anti salt post - healing fics that remove a character's core trait are not good

creative essays and objective analysis:

- on villains, heroes, and the metanarrative of the dream smp - my perception of the dream smp story and the characters in it - putting ghostbur's death into context - an analysis of c!dream's motivation during the l'manberg war - on l'manberg and c!wilbur's "death of the author" - dehumanization and victim blaming of c!dream part one - please let people have feelings about minecraft rp - dehumanization and victim blaming of c!dream part two - the reasons for the dehumanization of c!dream - c!wilbur was sure as hell gonna be ambitious - c!dream cares about people so much he won't let them care back - why c!dream should (and probably will be) redeemed: an essay - short semi-factual analysis of the prison death scene - there's no redemption before healing - what happened to c!techno wasn't "peer pressure" (best post!) - a scene-by-scene analysis of the original disc war - on blaming characters for c!dream's neglect and abandonment - add-on to the previous point by me and @/simplepotatofarmer - l’manberg was nothing but something to sacrifice for [v. 2.0!] - metaphor on the nature of redemption in narratives - statement on c!dream, justification and sympathy - c!dream's actions aren't based on beliefs; they stem from mindsets - c!tommy didn't deserve exile and c!dream didn't deserve the prison - (c!)dream is afraid of death; a speculative essay - c!dream isn't selfish - c!dream cares even if it hurts him - saying c!dream / c!techno should've left l'manberg alone is naive - with c!techno, c!dream is allowed to be a person, above all else - c!dream isn't the "main villain" and he hasn't "hurt everyone" - saying c!dream never cared is a mischaracterization (by anon) - c!dream isn't manipulating c!ranboo, actually (collab post) - c!dream is very clearly hurt - his trauma isn't loud, but it's there - l'manberg was, without question, built on xenophobia - please listen to the writers of the story about the characters - roleplay is supposed to be collaborative, not pre-written - the dream smp also doesn't need a "lead writer" - the common misinterpretations of c!dream and why no one is right - final disc war analysis and why it makes no sense (by anon) - why i am so attached the c!dream's character - on healing, redemption, and forgiveness - c!dream killed c!tommy to prove he was worth keeping alive - the duel is an example of actions that speak louder than words - the themes of the story line up with c!techno's narrative - c!sam hurts c!dream out of hatred stemming from fear - c!dream in season one was an anti-hero - c!sapnap is a bad friend // and acts like a bad person // + el rapids - yes, morality is a sliding scale! ...they're still all in the grey area! - a c!dream redemption'd fit incredibly well with the story's themes - a pretty long list of loose ends in the dream smp's story - c!dream wasn't owed being cared about, but he was still alone - i love c!dream. he's important to me. and that's okay. - scar is so funny and entertaining and amazing i love watching him - there's a difference between "unrealiable narrator" and "liar" - don't cut the sharp edges off of characters - people have a "minecraft persona", which c!dream used to be - on c!dream's alleged obsession with c!tommy - colour coding in dsmp analysis - by coffee anon!

[creweemmaeec11]

The Gift of Panic #7

Find the first 6 parts on my master list

The hero wasn't sure what to expect when he accepted the invitation to have tea at the villain's place, but walking into what looked like a 5-star hotel wasn't it. 

The lobby wasn't packed but had a couple of people lined up to the front desk. There were guards in full black suits and sunglasses that looked like they were straight out of a movie positioned around the lobby and entrance. Everything was a velvet black, with silver linings, laces or trims. 

"Wow," the hero muttered as he followed the villain past the front desk.

Suddenly, a large girl in a suit and high ponytail hurriedly walked up to them.

"Sir, our first steps dealing with the eastern district went perfectly. However, the Grandwells are making threats," 

"proceed as instructed, and remind them my offer still stands," Silver replied, "I'm busy at the moment. Thank you for letting me know," 

The henchmen simply nodded, before turning and walking away. 

"I can wait, if you have something you need to take care of," the hero said, worried they were interrupting. It felt a bit like they were walking with a leader of the mafia or something. Everything about the villain radiated power, a demanding of respect that didn't root from fear. 

"Oh, it's nothing dire; they can manage until we get settled at least," The villain replied, placing their hand on a seemingly normal wall. The spot on the wall lit up, a blue light scanning the villain's hand for a moment before an elevator door opened next to them with a ding. 

This was officially something out of a movie. 

"I'm surprised your guards have had nothing to say about me waltzing in here," the hero commented as he got into the elevator after the villain. Even the interior of the elevator was a black velvet lined with silver. 

"I was right next to you," Silver replied, looking at the hero with an unimpressed expression, "I don't hire imbeciles," 

The hero snorted a laugh at that as the villain typed a code into the panel on the wall. 

"By the way, I was wondering where the name 'Silver' came from. I get it now," 

This time it was the villains turn to chuckle, "I always preferred silver to gold. Gold is much too loud; its also a softer metal, useless for things outside jewelry,"

"Only you would put so much thought into something like that," 

The villain shrugged as the elevator went up.

"Though, I guess I agree with you; I always thought silver was prettier anyway," he added in a fond tone. 

The villain's head snapped to look at him, eyes wide in surprise, a slight blush on his cheeks, a look of shock that faded to a soft, small smile. 

The hero smiled back, just in time for the elevator to chime and the doors to open. 

They walked into what the hero had to assume was the penthouse, and his jaw dropped. The far wall was nothing but large glass pane windows and a door to a glass balcony that overlooked the city. He hadn't realized just how high up they were.

The entire place was fairly open concept, but the room looked like something out of a designer magazine. The hero tried to think back to when the villain had been in jail, remembering him in the prison uniform, the jail room they were kept in. He remembered how strange it was the villain's bed was always made. If only he'd known. 

The man in the grey, perfectly tailored suit next to him looked nothing like the villain he knew weeks ago. It was staggering. It was intoxicating. 

"Make yourself at home," the villain commented as they glided over to the kitchen, tossing their suit coat onto the back of one of the nearby chairs. 

"This is... wow." The hero muttered, still taking it all in. There was a curtain across the entrance to what he assumed was the bedroom. The living room had two couches and two armchairs around a coffee table, the plush white shag rug underneath it all a sharp contrast to the dark hardwood of the rest of the floor. The kitchen was all white cupboards and black stone countertops with an island in the middle, four bar stools beside it. There was even a vase of flowers in the center.

He heard the villain laugh, "I guess it's a bit different from the prison cell you usually saw me in, huh?" 

"You can say that again," the hero agreed, continuing to look around. He turned, noticing one of the walls had a tarp over it, nailed at the top. There was a separate tarp over the floor, and a stack of something alongside the wall was also covered. 

"What's that?" the hero asked curiously.

"Hm?" the villain hummed as he finished putting the kettle on. He glanced up, following the hero's eyes to the wall and immediately... blushed? 

"Oh, that's just uh, a small project of mine," he replied casually. 

The hero's eyes narrowed, "Is it something I shouldn't see for legal reasons?" he asking in a joking manner. 

"Oh no, no, nothing like that," the villain replied, grabbing two mugs out of a nearby cupboard. 

"Then... why are you being so cryptic?" 

Silver looked up, meeting the hero's eyes for a moment. Emotions flashed through the villain's face as he seemed to contemplate something. 

"It's just not something I'm used to sharing with others, I suppose..." he drawled, shifting slightly where he stood, "But, there's no harm in you looking, I guess," 

"I mean, I won't if you don't want me to; I'm just curious," The hero replied, not wanting to overstep either. His being here in the villain's home was probably already outside the villain's comfort zone, and he didn't want to push. The hero was prepared to go at whatever pace the villain needed. 

"No, no, it's alright," he replied, setting the mugs down onto the counter and making his way over. He whisked past the other before raising his hand. The nails on the wall shook and suddenly flew out, dropping the tarp to the floor before returning into the wall. 

If the villain had wanted a dramatic reveal, he certainly accomplished his goal. 

The entire wall was a painted mural of the cityscape late at night. The hero recognized many of the buildings, including the jail, the town hall, and more.

"holy crap," the hero replied breathlessly, "Did... did you do all of this yourself?" 

"Ah, yes, well, I'm still a little rusty; I haven't painted in years, but the sketchbook you gave me in prison reminded me how much I enjoyed the hobby," 

"Rusty? Silver, you're incredible!" The hero replied, turning to look at him. 

The villain blushed, more than the hero had seen him flush before as he bit back a smile. 

"Thank you," He replied while looking at the ground, unable to meet the hero's face. If he wasn't mistaken, the hero would have said silver looked shy right now.  

Before either could say anything else, the kettle went off. 

"Oh, teas ready," the villain said, turning and almost fleeing off to the kitchen. The hero could only watch with a fond smile, following after him and taking a seat at the kitchen island. 

"Here you are, hero," The villain said, sliding the mug over to him. 

"Rhys"

"What?" 

"The name of the person underneath the mask, doofus," The hero replied with a fond smile, "It's about time you knew it," 

Silver looked at him with a dumbstruck, speechless look on his face. Rhys laughed, the sound seemingly snapping the villain out of it. 

"I- sorry- thank you," he replied awkwardly, sipping his tea, "Your trust means a lot," 

Suddenly, the villain's phone went off. 

"Hello?" 

The villain sighed in annoyance, "I guess this is why we have a backup plan in place. Withdraw from the area, make sure no one gets hurt. I'll be right there," He said before hanging up the phone.

"What's going on?" The hero asked immediately. 

"Seems the Grandwells have skipped the negotiations and gone with violence. I'm going to have to deal with this so none of my men get hurt," 

"When you say 'deal with this,' do you mean...?" 

The villain just gave him a pointed look, though the hero would swear there was almost a hint of apologetic or sheepishness to it.

"Ah," the hero concluded awkwardly, "Will any innocent civilians be injured?" 

"No, no, nothing like that. The Grandwells are criminals themselves," 

Suddenly an idea popped into the hero's head.

"What if... I tagged along?" 

"Are... did you just offer to assist in illegal activity?" 

The hero smirked, looking like he was trying to bite back a smile and, failing miserably, "I find fighting criminals while helping a friend quite a heroic thing to do," 

Silver's eyes widened.

"Besides, I figure if you had the extra help, I might be able to convince you not to take as many lives?" 

The villain gave them a fake look of disappointment, amusement clear on his face, "You take the fun out of everything," 

Part 8

[tennessoui]

hello 👋 I was catching up on your tumblr like it's my weekly newspaper of choice and, um, if you ever fancied writing a snippet of obi wan getting the call after a concert about fire fighter anakin getting hurt it would be much appreciated 🥺

alright yes of course!!! i always try to give my asks whatever they want 🥺🥺🥺 here's a snippet of singer!obi-wan getting an 'anakin is hurt' call

(1.8k)

When Obi-Wan gets offstage, the first thing he does is check his phone. That’s what he’s been doing for months now, ever since he and Anakin started dating. It’s not like he can look at his phone onstage in front of all the people who paid to see Obi-Wan Kenobi, rock star. He has to wait, to not carry his phone with him at all up to the stage in order to triumph over the temptation of seeing what Anakin is doing right now, what silly thing he wants Obi-Wan to see.

It’s almost better like this. He gets offstage and he gets little presents from his boyfriend: horrifically cooked meals at the station, complaints about one of his coworkers’ new taste in music, awful jokes his sister has told him.

Tonight, there’s nothing.

He doesn’t think much about it though, not when he doesn’t have his boyfriend’s work schedule memorized. Sometimes the firefighters’ schedules shift on random days; someone calling out sick, someone available to cover a shift they weren’t assigned….It’s a big city, but a small firehouse. Obi-Wan isn’t worried.

Disappointed, maybe, that he doesn’t get to see Anakin’s twisted, disgusted face at Jesse’s attempt at dinner. Or his string of laughing text emojis to accompany a joke from Ahsoka. Disappointed, but not worried.

He chats with Kit and Quinlan the entire time back to his dressing room. The drummer thinks the opening song could use a little more rehearsal. The guitarist thinks it’s fine. Obi-Wan hadn’t heard anything definitively out of place, but he’s always alright with more rehearsal. He wants to give the best performance he can to the fans. It’s that simple.

He’s alone for a few minutes when he changes from his performance outfit into his normal clothes. It’s just after ten p.m.

He thinks about calling Anakin, as it’s only 8 in the evening in his city. Surely that’s too early to go to bed, even for a night off-shit. He thinks about it the entire time he’s changing into jeans and a t-shirt, the entire time he’s wiping off his stage make-up--nothing drastic of course, but just enough to be visible in the stage lights, just enough to look a little ghoulish in the warmer lights of the dressing room.

It doesn’t take much to break him, he’ll admit. He really, really likes Anakin. They’ve been dating for eight months now. He’s almost completely comfortable saying that he loves Anakin, but he doesn’t want to scare the other man off. Sometimes he thinks that everything he feels is too big and too dramatic for everyday life, that being in the spotlight from such a young age ruined him for anything private and selfish ever again.

But loving Anakin feels private, feels selfish. It feels right, amazing, like he’s a bandit robbing a small bank and just hopping on the train leaving town. It feels like he’s getting away with something he never should have even expected to have.

Anakin doesn’t pick up.

This too is excusable, as Obi-Wan hardly expects his boyfriend to wait by the phone, anticipating his call. Anakin’s messages during his concerts are gifts for a reason. They’re not mandatory, they’re unexpected.

Going into a serious relationship like this, they’d both understood the importance of their already established lives. Obi-Wan could no more give up a concert in favor of a call with Anakin as Anakin could go off shift and call Obi-Wan.

He packs the necessities he’d carried with him into the dressing room and looks around, if only to make sure he has everything and he’s not leaving too big of a mess.

Ahsoka calls him on his cell, when he’s halfway between his dressing room and the bus. He almost doesn’t pick up because he doesn’t have Ahsoka’s number saved into his contacts. But her city area code is the same as Anakin’s, and he picks up the call.

“Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka sounds like she’s half on the call and half not. “I couldn’t unlock Anakin’s phone, but I saw you were trying to call him.”

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the wall. “Yes, I was,” he says slowly, his gut trembling with a bad feeling. “Why are you calling me, Ahsoka?” He hates sounding so abrupt, but he can’t help it. He needs to know. Perhaps Anakin is asleep, and Ahsoka is trying to ward off any further calls in order to let her brother sleep.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” she says grimly and straightforwardly. Faintly, Obi-Wan thinks he can appreciate her no-nonsense attitude. She gets directly to the point, even though the point iis dangerously sharp.

“No,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, even as he slowly slides down the wall he’s against until he’s sitting on the floor. “No, he can’t be. I talked to him a few hours ago.”

“There was a call,” Ahsoka sounds so close to crying. No, Obi-Wan thinks. Impossible.

“But I just talked to him,” he says, clearing his throat. “I just….”

“There was a fire out on Temple Street,” she says thickly. “He’s in the hospital because a pillar fell on him. Trapped him in...in a burning house.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. If he hadn’t been sitting down already, he would have fallen to the ground. “But I--” I just talked to him, he thinks. As if it matters.

“He’s not critical anymore,” Ahsoka tells him. “But he’s still in surgery. Invasive, but. Not overly risky is what they told me.” She sniffles.

“I’m twenty hours away,” he says faintly.

“I know,” Ahsoka says into the phone. “I know. You’re almost on the other side of the country. But...they didn’t know to call you and I thought you needed to know.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Obi-Wan hears himself say. He needs to move. He needs to catch a plane. No matter expensive. He needs to get to the airport, get to Anakin.

Anakin’s hurt. Anakin needs surgery.

It’s Quinlan that finds him in the hallway, guitar slung over his back.

“Obi-Wan?” he asks, offering a hand out without explanation.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” he says blankly, staring straight forward at the other wall. “He got hurt in a fire.”

“Then let’s get you there,” Quinlan replies instantly, pulling Obi-Wan up. “Come on. We’ll get you straight to the airport. I’ll tell the fans of the next concert.”

“We need to give them a refund,” Obi-Wan says distantly as he lets himself be led out to the tour bus. There are screams of fans, but it’s like he can’t even hear them. He’s underwater. Nothing matters as much. Nothing matters at all. Anakin needs surgery. Anakin’s in the hospital. Anakin’s hurt. He’s in the hospital. He needs surgery.

“We will,” Quinlan reassures him, leading him onto the bus. He tells the driver something harshly, quickly, and then not even a minute later, the wheels are in motion.

Anakin is in the hospital. Anakin had been hurt. He’d been in a building when it’d collapsed. How had Obi-Wan never even thought to worry about this? He worries about everything, but he’d never even thought of Anakin, of what Anakin’s career means. Sometimes he doesn’t get out. Sometimes Anakin doesn’t save the day. Who saves him?

Obi-Wan only realizes he’s making a weird noise with his throat when Quinlan clasps his hand. “We’re going to the airport,” he says with absolute surety. “We’ll get you to him, alright?”

Obi-Wan nods. What else is he supposed to do? He just talked to Anakin. He was fine then. How can someone go from fine to needing surgery in less than three hours?

He calls Ahsoka within the next fifteen minutes, as soon as it sinks in that this is happening. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his head around it, but it’s happening anyway. He’s ten minutes from the closest airport. Quinlan’s already got him a ticket. He’s coming. He’s almost there. He just...he needs to know Anakin is….that Anakin is……

“He’s still in surgery,” Ahsoka tells him softly. She sounds so small, so unsure. He’s only met her a handful of times, but he knows this tone does not belong anywhere close to her. “I don’t know, Obi-Wan. Please get here.”

Around the sixth hour after his concert ends, Obi-Wan cries. He leaves the official announcement to Quinlan, because he’s a coward. But he loves Anakin enough to type out a tweet anyway. It’s nothing too dramatic, nothing too honest either. There’s been an emergency. He’s sorry. He’s not sorry enough to not go, but he’s sorry enough to talk to fans. There’ll be a refund, maybe a rescheduling.

His entire life feels up in ends, but he talks about rescheduling. He doesn’t know what else to do. When the flight attendant tells him to turn his phone off, he puts it down until she’s passed by.

He looks out the window of the airplane and he can feel his tears soaking into his beard. Anakin is alright, he keeps telling himself. Anakin has to be okay. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Anakin isn’t okay.

It’s suddenly so amazingly clear to him that if Anakin were to--to not be alright--Obi-Wan’s life would never, ever be the same. Never. They’re intrinsically linked together. Why wasn’t he contacted when Anakin was first brought to the hospital? He needs to know this. He needs to know as soon as Anakin is hurt. He can’t stand the idea that Anakin had been injured halfway through his set, maybe at the end, maybe before it even started.

He needs to know as soon as it happens, if it ever happens again.

He never wants it to happen again. He never wants Anakin to be hurt, to be unresponsive, to be so far from him that Anakin’s sister has to let him know what’s going on.

He needs to be something different, something more. Something that makes everyone understand that he needs to be informed immediately when anything happens to Anakin, his Anakin. His….

Husband. Husband would work. If Anakin were to marry him, Obi-Wan would get preference to every medical incident experienced. Obi-Wan could be there. Yes. Husband

Husband.

Obi-Wan wipes the tears from his eyes slowly as he stares at the backside of the seat in front of him. Husband. If he were to be Anakin’s husband, he’d never be third in the information chain. He’d know immediately when something happens to his...to his husband.

Anakin could be his husband. Obi-Wan would ask him. It would make everything easier. It would mean Obi-Wan would know anything wrong as soon as it happened. He’d be the first in the chain of information.

He wants that, he decides as he cries into his airplane food napkin somewhere over the Great Plains. He wants to be the first. He wants to know. He wants to be there everytime Anakin wakes up from an injury. He wants to hold his hand.

Nothing else will ever make him feel any better. He needs it.