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mrwinterr · 4 years

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Who Do You Love?

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After some months that David’s been working for the Home Secretary, you notice he’s been acting differently. Not wanting to overanalyze the situation, the signs are just too hard to ignore, so when it’s time to confront him there’s only one real question to ask.

Warnings: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers! Adult themes. Explicit language. Light smut. Infidelity/cheating. Mentions of war, PTSD, political assassination, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, paranoia, and attempted suicide. Sad vibes, probably. We’re not gonna have a good time.

Disclaimer: This piece goes hand-in-hand with All For You. It’s not required to read beforehand, but it would be nice. As far as the TV series, yeah, don’t even read these if you’re still planning to watch the show. If you don’t care, you may proceed.

Title Inspiration: “Who Do You Love?” by The Chainsmokers ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I want a happy David, I really do, but I’m a heartless writer. I took a break from the smut, so it’s not a huge bulk of the fic this time. I hope y’all still like it! Happy New Year!

Another night alone was not unusual for you as of late, having grown accustomed to it ever since David had taken up the job of protecting Home Secretary, Julia Montague. Neither you nor David could’ve foreseen his courageous efforts in neutralizing the terrorist attack on the train back home would thrust him into his new position, furthermore the extent of its outcome in his personal life.

It wasn’t a hidden secret that David resented most politicians, and you knew of Julia from the news and her political ambitions in pushing a bill to increase security surveillance. David’s job put a big emphasis on confidentiality, so for his superiors to throw him into a public political warzone was a bit suspicious to you. There was something that didn’t add up, and you couldn’t just outright ask David whose side he was on in all this.

After neglecting the mountain of dirty laundry, tonight was dedicated to the domestic chore. It was nothing out of the ordinary mixing your batch with David��s, but he had a habit of leaving things in his clothes pockets, so it was routine for you to check everyone. You’d moved onto one of the costly tailored button-ups he wore to work and feel something protruding from the shirt pocket. You dig your hand in and fish out a tube of lipstick. Strange. You didn’t use this brand of cosmetics, and even more so the garment smelt different.

Under normal circumstances, this type of discovery would raise a red flag, but you recall one of David’s first days on the job as her bodyguard, the intern had clumsily spilt Julia’s coffee all over her outfit just before she was about to do a live interview, and David had offered her the shirt off his back, essentially saving the day. The man was just too dedicated to his job sometimes, so you shrug it off, but this wouldn’t be the first time you would notice something out of place.

It really started after the first assassination attempt that was made on Julia’s life. With the rate she was going at, her political status had made her a prime target to those opposed to RIPA-18. It was very frightening, you figured that much for her, David had seen worse in war. You just about had a heart attack when you reunited with him that night, the blood still stained on his clothes and missed splotches on his skin.

The both of you clung onto each other all night, lost within the throes of passion. It might as well have been one of the most intense nights yet, even then you could tell something changed by his movements. You didn’t think much about it at first because there’s already so much wrong with him, you’ve yet to learn all his mood swings.

Then one day you’d gotten sick, and discovered it was because you were pregnant with David’s child. One of the few things that made you forget about all the aches and pains that David unintentionally caused, was remembering the beautiful smile on his face when you revealed the news to him. You knew how much happiness Ella and Charlie brought him, you could only imagine what that would feel like, your own family with David.

He was so overjoyed in the beginning. He had quickly phoned his mother, who’d visited and even stayed a few days with you when David’s new position became more demanding of him, claiming she was worried about you being alone. You didn’t deserve to experience this alone, but it was sure heading that way.

Lately, you’ve found yourself occupying the Budd household quite more than often when David’s mom went back home. With David being on duty almost 24/7, you were completely alone, so the little family welcomed you.

Legally, on paper, David was still married to Vicky. It was something you weren't going to verbally admit bothered you, but oddly enough it did. What with the mood you’ve been in as of late, it ate at a part of you. They were separated and the divorce papers were well on track until David’s “promotion” paused the process.

There’s still not a hostile fiber in you towards Vicky. She’d moved on well, been on several dates with someone else, and things were looking great for her. It was lowkey, not even David knew about it, not that he even stuck around or bothered to care. It had to come out eventually because it would affect Ella and Charlie’s lives.

You watch as Vicky rounds the table after placing a cup of tea in front of you then sitting in the seat across and asking how you’re holding up.

You contemplate for a split second if you should be honest or not, but who else could you confine to at the moment? No one else could possibly understand. Vicky herself may not even, but she knew David more than most people did, so surely, she could see where you’re coming from to some degree, right?

Letting out a big sigh, you answer her truthfully, “I’m...not well, Vicky,” your eyes drop down to the cup in front of you, finger tracing the rim, the hot cloud of smoke of the concoction almost burns your skin.

“Oh, poor thing,” she says, extending her hand over to place it on top of your other one on the table, “it’s the pregnancy. It has to be. It’s taking a toll on you. I can tell.” You look up at her and almost want to cry. No one noticed it was more than symptoms of pregnancy. You were bottling up so much.

“Let me tell you, while I love Ella and Charlie, pregnancy was not a breeze…” she started to ramble, but you quickly cut her off, exhausted of people telling you the same thing over and over, unintentionally, blaming the innocent baby.

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t want to blame anything on the pregnancy,” you say straight up. You got yourself into this mess, you went headfirst knowing the baggage David came with and you knew full well that protection wasn’t at the forefront in the affairs. Ready or not, you both went in this together and brought a baby into the picture.

Vicky stares, confused, but still genuinely concerned, “then what else could be wrong?” When you didn't immediately respond, she knew it had to be one other thing, or person, and you just didn’t want to admit, well out loud, “David?”

You only nod; you knew you were going to have to face the music sooner or later. So, you start listing things you’ve observed that have caused you to grow suspicious over the course of the last few months. You just hoped you didn’t sound like a mad woman in front of her.

The one time your phone had died, and he let you use his to place a food delivery. You couldn’t unlock his phone, trying every possible combined set of numbers close to David, only to come to a conclusion that the access code had changed. Visibly distressed, he realizes you were attempting to unlock his work phone. You knew that was his though. What work phone?

You didn’t even know he had one of those, let alone why did it have the same crack on the screen in the exact same spot as his personal one? You feigned stupidity and blamed it on exhaustion. Deep down David knew you were suspecting something was up, and he ended up placing the order for dinner that night himself.

The other time you confronted David about coming home smelling heavily of another woman. Whatever, whoever, her perfume was strong, and it made you nauseous. The pregnancy didn’t even do you any favors on this one with your senses heightened and overly sensitive.

Of course, he smelled of another woman, the person he was assigned to protect. You could see all the holes in his alibi. He was lying, and it hurt most when he indirectly admitted your mood swings were irritating him and then flipped it all on you, saying you were overthinking the situation and getting all paranoid for no reason. Accused you of not trusting him, when truth was you had the utmost faith in him, but not when the evidence was piling up.

There’s a solemn look that washed over Vicky’s face. She had expected more tales of David’s PTSD, but none of what you spilled alluded to it. This time David couldn’t blame the effects of war on your suspicions. However, Vicky knew that this was you and David, and if there was a pair that could survive love’s tumultuous doings then it was you two.

“There’s a lot of coincidences, yes, but this is you and David,” she says, grasping your hand for support because she could see the moisture in your eyes building up, “is it silly of me to admit I was always jealous of you,” she confesses, trying to steer the conversation a different route.

She didn’t want you to think she was brushing off your worries, but to remind you that everything you and David had been through to get to this point to be together, whatever you both were dealing now wasn’t anything you two couldn’t overcome. There were high hopes for you and David in Vicky’s mind.

A small smile cracks your face, and you bring your vacant hand up to dab at the inner corner of your eyes, just before the tears start to race down, “jealous? Of what?” It was almost shocking to think you had something she was jealous of.

“Every time you visited us,” she starts, “I could tell David held so much admiration for you,” and you know she’s not trying to hurt your feelings, but it’s taking a bit to figure out where she’s going with this.

“That’s silly,” you scoff lightly, “you both got married and had two kids, surely there was no doubt,” then bring the cup up to your lips for a small sip.

“But there was and look where we ended up?” she says. Your lips cave in to form a tight line in response, and carefully place the cup back down on the dish, before she follows up, “you two are finally together.”

“Vicky,” you pipe up, not knowing where to begin. It was never your intention to steal David’s heart away from another.

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m mad at you. No. I’ve never truly hated you. You’re a good person and you’re finally getting your happily ever after. Don’t ever stop fighting for it,” she comes out wholeheartedly, and this time you make no attempt to keep the tears at bay. It stung to hold them back anyways.

Vicky gets up from her seat, walking the short steps to yours, to wrap her arounds around you. You immediately cling onto her arms and just cry, finally letting everything out.

“Seriously, don’t think of the worst,” she starts advising, while rubbing your back, “David will always come back to you,” she pulls you away from her before reminding you, “you knew going into this wasn’t going to be easy.”

You feel so pathetic. What she said was completely true, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. There’s no doubt you love David and want to be with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly, so you nod and try to keep your chin up. It wasn’t to appease her, you were going to get back up, because if not for David, then for the baby.

Suddenly, the front door busts open and Ella and Charlie are bustling into the kitchen, where you and Vicky were. Quickly wiping away the tears, you both noted that school had just let out.

They were ecstatic to see you, especially Charlie as he had currently been experiencing issues of his own adjusting to school. They lifted your spirits greatly; they were more fascinated by the baby growing in you and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. You absolutely adored them. They looked like David and the whole time they were talking your ear off; you wonder to yourself if your own kid will look more like you or David.

David’s thrusts were deep and good; you made no attempt to hold it in, letting him know exactly how he was making you feel. Nails digging into his firm buttocks, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to just keep going and going; the chase proving to be almost just as good as the climax. You feel one of his hands run up your side and his large hand starts groping your breast, adding onto the pleasure he was plaguing your body with, while the other held onto the small of you back, bringing your hips up to his.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and hear his murmured swears and praises. The air in the room was thick, and for the majority of the intimate activity, the only sounds that travelled around the apartment consisted of heavy breathing, moans, gasps, whines and skin slapping, until the annoying distinct ringtone started screeching from a few feet away.

You’d learned to distinguish his work alarm since the supposed mix-up, and it pinged constantly, agitating you. David’s pace notably falters, and the rhythm you’d both built started dwindling, the needy side of you started to panic because he was going to stop and you desperately wanted to come, even more so come with him, but it looked like neither of you would be as you feel one of David’s hands leave your body and make an attempt to reach out to the device.

You grab a hold of his wandering hand and lace your fingers together, hoping to keep him close and forget about the alert. You buck your hips forward, urging him to continue. His grip tightens and cock twitches inside of you in response. Your strategy almost deems successful when he picks up momentum, each swivel of his cock gradually bringing out the starved woman in you. Not to mention, your sex drive had heightened too, you’d longed and craved any affection he could give you.

“David, baby…” you whine, holding a hand to his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on you and only you, the ringtone almost drowning out, “...don’t. Don’t. Fucking. Stop...please,” you resort to begging and hook a leg over his body, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper.

And just when you’re about to tip over the edge, the incessant ringing persists, and David’s halt unintentionally pulls you back down. He unwinds your sweaty clasped hands, no doubt in search of the phone once more, however, you had more leverage than he did, and your hand beats his hand to it. He wasn’t that far behind as his hand covers yours, and he tries to grab the phone to answer the call, but instead you swat it off the nightstand.

“What the fuck?” David says aggravatedly, while attempting to reach his phone on the ground, all while he’s still inside of you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress, but careful to not crush you.

“No, fuck you, David,” you spit back, and shove his body off of yours. You scoot over to one side of the bed and try to level your breathing. You were both so close!

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, forgetting the phone on the ground.

“Do you really have to answer that?” You ask, attitude on full display.

“It could be an emergency at work,” he tries reasoning.

“You’re not on the clock, David!” You dispute, sitting up, clutching the sheets to your body to conceal yourself.

“That’s not the point! It could’ve been serious. Julia could be hurt,” he says, the words just coming out of his mouth, giving each excuse little thought. His mind was in a frenzy and you didn’t miss a single syllable.

“You called her Julia,” you say just above a whisper, and suddenly you have an urge to vomit, but you do your best to control it.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what that meant at all to you.

It hurt more that he didn’t realize there was anything wrong and if he did, he was doing a good job at hiding something and making you look like the bad guy. You lightly shake your head, feeling defeated, and lie back down, settling on your side facing the opposite direction of him.

What was going on in David’s head? You tried so hard to understand him. It was like walking on eggshells, and even you had a breaking point. It was just sometimes too much because it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort to keep this relationship afloat.

The bed shifts significantly, letting you know that he’s gotten out of it. What felt like an hour, but were only a few seconds, the room was silent, tension still heavy in the room, and neither of you were willing to be the first to crack. You lie still, unmoving and making no attempt to stop him. It’s only when you hear the swing of the bedroom door creak, you allow yourself to blink the tears in your eyes away.

He didn’t leave the apartment that much you could rest assured of. Rest? That was what you were having trouble with. Things weren’t getting any easier with David and you even though you vowed to yourself that you’d go through Hell for him, the pressure was getting too heavy on your heart and in return, you knew the distress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Maybe it was all just paranoia, the stress of pregnancy, and you were taking things too personal. You could be understanding about a lot of things in David’s life, his terms and PTSD, his kids, and his job, but was it too much to ask of him to be understanding of you? You suppose you were being selfish, and you were really tired. The only way to help you sleep was to swallow your pride and admit you were wrong.

The rush of the cold air instantly surrounds your bare legs the second you throw the covers off your body to get out of the bed. You throw on the discarded oversized shirt to be decent. Your steps are light, and you’re kind of nervous and, dare you admit, ashamed of how you overreacted that it drove David to the point of sleeping on the couch. After all, you made him feel unwanted in his own bed, and he certainly had enough respect to not steal yours.

Just when you’re ready to apologize and ask him to go back to bed with you, he’s already sound asleep, his legs sticking out from the mere blanket covering his upper body. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up for that. Sleep didn’t find him easy and he seemed just as stressed as you were, so you don’t disturb him. It can wait, right? You turn around and head to your room, shut the door and pray sleep finds you soon.

It didn’t and neither did the conversation.

News of the blast at St. Matthews College, where Julia was presenting a speech, rocked not only the political world, but it was the forefront of every news channel and medium. Tons left injured or dead, and as if that wasn’t bad, David was being told Julia had not survived the bombing.

He’s clearly distraught, believing he’s failed her, and on top of that, the weight of his lies started to suffocate him. He was going to have to come clean to you about everything he’s done behind closed doors with Julia. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of that, and if by some chance you did, it would take a hell of a long time for him to regain your trust.

How many more lives does he have to ruin or lose under his watch? It was becoming too much, and it was sad, as he stared at the gun in his hands, that he’d contemplated his next actions more than once, but he really didn’t know what he had left to do anymore. There was a lot actually, he had his kids, a baby on the way, and a new life to build with you, but he was far too gone at that moment.

It’s Vicky that finds him back at the apartment, cleaning the brass fragments from the wound on the side of his head. She quickly puts the pieces together, the notes on the table addressed separately to her, the children and you, and the admission from David that these were brass fragments of a bullet casing.

“Dave, what the fuck? What about Ella and Charlie? What about-” she starts going on but stops when he visibly cracks because he knows your name is next to come out of her mouth, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she decides and is quick to put away her tools.

“No. No one can know about this,” David says adamantly. They start to argue about his injuries and how David hadn’t been aware that he fired a blank round before he asks her to go back home to the kids.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” she says grabbing a jacket and tries to reason that he shouldn’t be alone right now and maybe being around the kids and seeing you will open his eyes and realize what he was leaving behind had he successfully ended his life.

He couldn’t pretend living like he was okay. What had happened to Julia was not his fault. All David ever did was do his best to protect, protect his country, his family and her.

“You need to tell her,” Vicky says while she hands David a cap for him to cover the wound on his head.

“I don’t even know where she’s been the last few days,” he admits pathetically. His own girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child, he can’t even keep tabs on where she’s been this whole time. It made him feel even terrible that he’d neglected you.

“She’s been staying with the kids and I,” she reveals.

“What? Why is she there?” He asks, and quickly puts the cap on and gets up from his seat.

She didn’t tell David of your whereabouts earlier because you’d asked her not to and she politely respected that, but she knew now was not the time to take sides anymore. You two had to deal with your issues now.

“She shouldn’t be alone, Dave. She’s pregnant with your child and yet she’s going through it all by herself,” Vicky tells him.

“I never meant to bring her into any of this mess,” he says heavily, full of grief. He brought you into the madness that was his world and now you’re trapped in it, bringing a new life along for the ride.

“She loves you, David, don’t sell yourself short. She just feels like she’s been left in the dark. You need to talk to her,” Vicky advises him, “it may not be pretty, but you have to hear her out.”

She knew you couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment without being reminded of David constantly. You weren’t in a good place either and she wanted to help you both before it was too late.

You’d been left behind at the house with Ella and Charlie in the other room watching TV, while Vicky was out looking for David. He wasn’t answering any of the phone calls she’s made, even ones made on your cell phone, there was no form of contact or communication from him. You knew he was there at the college; he was Julia’s bodyguard after all.

When you heard more than two voices return, you knew she’d brought David back and had told him you’d be here. You weren’t mad at her for ratting you out, it was going to come out eventually. Nothing ever stays hidden.

“You don’t normally wear a hat indoors,” Ella points out the cap on David’s head that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You said it’s silly,” Charlie reminds his father.

“Then I’m being silly,” David responds as he watches his children chomp away at the slices of pizza in their hands.

While Vicky was on the phone cancelling her date tonight, you faintly hear the end of the conversation he was having with Ella and Charlie over their dinner. He still hadn’t even seen you. Then you hear his quiet, controlled sobs, but he couldn’t detain them enough and be strong around his kids.

“I just did something silly today,” he tells them.

“Wearing a hat?” Charlie asks innocently.

“That, too,” he replies as he clings onto them both in a group hug.

Vicky had just revealed to you of David’s suicide attempt moments ago. You’re numb. Clearly, Julia’s death had affected him rather deeply, so much that he thought killing himself was a solution.

He didn’t care about you or the baby. You both weren’t enough to save him or have anything to look forward to. You can’t even cry anymore. You wanted to lash out and get mad. She advises you to keep calm and think rationally, but you’re tired of thinking about all of this.

Without warning, David enters the room you’d been staying in. You’re like stone on the couch, arms crossed and starting straight ahead of you, mindlessly at whatever TV program the kids left it on before retreating to the dining area. Your eyes cast themselves on David’s demure stance. He cautiously steps forward and hesitantly takes a seat next to you.

“Is it true?” You ask, breaking the silence and finally turn to look at him. He only nods in response, his head hangs low, ashamed. You felt like your heart didn’t have any parts to break anymore. The confirmation alone just felt like him stomping on it for added measure.

“Ok,” is all you say, biting down on your lip to prevent you from saying anything else. It was petty, but you’d refused to show him any remorse or sorrow of any kind.

“Is this where you’ve been the past few nights?” He questions, rather awkwardly too.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed I haven’t been home?” You ask bitterly.

He was really going to push your buttons. You’re not sure if Vicky was right about you and David having to talk. This wasn’t going to go well at all. You were not in an ideal mental and physical state to be talking about your problems with him, but if not now then when?

“Of course, I have. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, almost appalled by the accusation, and watching as you get up from the couch to stand in front of him.

“I hardly see you and when I do I find out that you just tried to kill yourself, so forgive me for not assuming I even ran as a mere thought in your messed-up head,” it was harsh, poking at his mental state, but you were so fed up, your mind was just as clouded, “...you didn’t think about me when you held the gun to your head,” you said ripping off his hat.

Your heart tightens in your chest as you stare at the wound and tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let them, “...and you certainly didn’t think about our baby when you pulled the trigger,” then chuck the cap at him, he makes no attempt to catch it as it lightly bounces off his chest and fall onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely and making no attempt to hide his tears as they raced down, “I’m so fucking stupid,” and he gets up on his feet, ”...I need help.”

He’s not even going to use the excuse of work and you’re not expecting him to rat himself out and come clean about Julia just yet. David didn’t work like that and you were absolutely done with it. No, everything had to come out now.

“I know,” is all you say at first. He thinks it’s some form of forgiveness, him acknowledging his problem, until you follow up, “just admit it,” your voice changes in tone from anger and hurt to an icy one, “who do you love now, David?”

All while asking him that question, you’re trying to get his eyes to focus on you, but you simply cannot. He’s looking everywhere but, and it hurts.

“It’s Julia, isn’t it? Tell me!” You shout at his face. When he doesn’t answer immediately, your lips press down together and you don’t hold back the tears any longer, “I can’t believe you,” you say in disbelief, almost struggle to breathe right, “this shit has been keeping me up at night!”

You back away from him and cover your mouth, just to conceal your sobs so the rest of the family doesn’t hear you cry. They most definitely heard you yell, but you didn’t want to further trouble them anymore or cause a big enough scene for them to burst right through.

There hadn’t been a doubt in your mind that David loved you before, but just seeing how he couldn’t open up enough to tell you there was someone else during, filled you with more heartache. Maybe it would hurt less, you wouldn’t know unless it came straight from his mouth.

David starts crying as well and you honestly want to slap him, but instead you start saying nasty things, cutting him way worse than anything you could ever do physically, and you certainly don’t hold back. Claiming you two were never meant to be together, and the baby doesn’t mean anything especially in uniting you both.

“I’ll be surprised if this baby even survives,” you scoff thinking about a past experience, and how cruel life was gifting you this baby.

“What are you talking about? You’re not thinking about-“ David starts getting all frantic suddenly, and not thinking, he grabs both your arms in his hands, holding you in place.

“God no! I would never!” You say in disgust and pull away from him, “I can’t believe you’d think I would…”

“Then what did you mean?” He asks curiously.

“I never told you why I broke up with him,” you don’t really mention your ex’s name these days. While you’d both moved on as civil as the both of you could, it still pangs you to reminisce about the relationship and how it ended.

“He couldn’t handle the long distance,” he said thinking he knew.

“He only couldn’t after...” you pause, trying to decide if now was the time to reveal this secret. David had the right to know, after all, an incident like such could happen again.

“After what? He was seeing someone else?” He grew increasingly anxious and almost ill towards the thought of another being unfaithful to you.

“No! It was my fault,” you don’t want to slander your ex at all. He couldn’t have prevented what happened to you across the other side of the world even if he tried. “I miscarried. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I woke up one day in my blood and the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.”

You started reliving that day, how you were alone and the way your neighbors had to come to your aid. Your poor ex felt so helpless, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything for you, but the wave of depression afterwards had strained the relationship. It formally ended when you’d returned from studying abroad.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” David says in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and if it was stupid to think all this time you could’ve easily had a life without him long before you two finally became a thing.

“It didn’t matter, David,” your voice finally regained strength, and wiped at the tears on your face of the memory, ”you and Vicky were so in love. There’s nothing you could’ve done for me.”

“That’s not true,” David persists.

“I would’ve turned you away, just like him,” you say so sure. David was your friend then, yes, but you didn’t need or owed him this before now.

“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he promises.

“You don’t know that,” and you’re not trying to be a pessimist about this, you wanted this baby, but you were more than aware of the possibility it could happen again. Bad things just always seemed to be happening lately anyways.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’d protect you both with my last breath,” he vows, grabbing your hands, desperate to feel any part of you.

“I don’t need your protection, David,” your words continue to crush him, that was your subtle way of leaving him and he knew it, “I love you, David. I love you so much!” you say with plenty of emotion, and lightly squeeze his hands in yours, “...but you can’t even tell me who you love right now,” you point out, reluctantly removing your hands from his.

“You need to get help, David. If not for your family, me or the baby, please do it for yourself,” you say last, before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to get help...for you,” you hear David say determinedly just before you walk out of the room. It wasn’t all you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you he loved you back, but you wanted him to live easy once again even if that meant him not loving you.

You could manage on your own, and work something out when the baby arrives, but for now it was time for you to go home.

A/N: Nope. Sorry! Whenever Season 2 decides to come out, maybe we’ll get a happier David, so for now I don’t think I can let these two ride off into the sunset…but I can if you send 2020 off with giving this a like, reblog, comment or all of the above!

#mrwinterr writes #david budd imagine #david budd x reader #david budd smut #david budd x y/n #david budd x female reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #bodyguard imagine

256 notes · View notes

youryanderedaddy · 4 years

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Hey! First off, I wanted to compliment you and your writing, it's amazing and I'm so glad I found this blog.

Second off, could I get some headcanons for Aiden? I already fell for him and I only read this one story xD ((he's best boy))

Thank you in advance and have a nice day 🌸💐

Thanks so much, that's very sweet <3 Also Aiden is terrible oof he's evil 😤👊 hope u enjoy ✌

tw: obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping, mentions of non - con, toxic/abusive mindsets, mentions of derogatory language

Aiden is British, he has been raised in a wealthy family with maids and butlers attending to his every need so it's no surprise that he is used to getting his way no matter what. Despite living in luxury and prestige, the man has been severely neglected by his parents during his childhood, surrounded only with money without any warmth or support. Now as an university student Aiden barely sees his family - in fact he tries to avoid them since their little unions always end up in shouting, bickering and the tears of his younger sister.

Deep down he is desperate to be loved and cherished, but the walls he has built around his heart make it hard to connect to people and form friendships. When he meets you for the first time Aiden thinks nothing of it, he sees you just like the rest of the boring unworthy fuckers in the elite university who got in because of mommy and daddy's fortune. Yet as the time goes by he starts to notice things about you he finds interesting, amusing even. The way you stop to pet a stray kitten even when everyone else is rushing to get somewhere. The way you stand up for your friends even while shaking with fear. The way you wear such weird, pretty clothes in a place where everyone looks the same. The man doesn't understand you but he wishes he did. That's why he would use any means to find out everything about you - from your favourite colour to your mother's last name.

Aiden is not above stalking you. Of course he can instal cameras in your house and learn your schedule along with the route you take to go home, but nothing feels as personal as following you step by step, praying at you, perving into your most intimate moments. It's so cute when you look around or try to change paths, hoping to escape the pair of hungry eyes engraved on your skin and the cold shivers down your spine. Unfortunately for you there is no where you can go that he doesn't know of. That's how his obsession starts.

The man is extremely jealous when it comes to you. He can't stand the idea of someone else touching you, seeing you laugh or cry, making you happier than he ever could. On top of all he is also quite arrogant and finds everyone else inferior and unworthy of your affection. Aiden would call you all the derogatory insulting names in the book if you ever try to get closer to another guy and there is always the chance of him going missing the day after.

Not that he would ever admit it out loud. His methods of persuasion usually come off as rude or aggressive despite his best efforts, but he just can't help it. When you look at him with eyes so beautiful, all wet and pained, Aiden is conflicted. One side of him wants to hide you away so you are forced to love him, while the other wants to torment you for making him feel so small and insignificant with nothing more than a fierce look. "If you wanna act like an annoying snobby brat, I'd have to put you on your knees, doll." He enjoys your pain as much as your joy, but the evil in him usually wins in the end.

The heir wouldn't bother to ask you out or try to show you the real way he feels about you in the beginning. Aiden acts tough but he is so disgustingly scared of you rejecting him and pushing him away, so he waits and bides his time until he can't anymore. The man wants to have you all to himself - both your body and your heart. When he finally snaps, he would take you then and there on the cold floor, leaving you bloodied, bruised all over and crying, while telling you to shut up and just take his cock like the dumb little slut you are. Afterwards he tries to comfort you and hold your used up naked body against his but it doesn't stop the tears running down your cheeks.

After this point you have no choice but to become his lover. You could try to escape or contact your parents, but Aiden's family has too much power and very little legal limits. By the time you have taken a step out of his house he has already made the calls to drag you back screaming and kicking, but to no avail. You are the only one who makes him feel such strong emotions and there is no way he is giving up so easily. Expect a harsh punishment though - only so you will remember to be an obedient little thing next time and think twice before breaking his heart.

At the end of the day Aiden loves you so there will be softer moments when he would just stroke your hair or read you a book he likes. The man might even try to cook for you once or twice despite being terrible at it and possibly giving you both a food poisoning. One moment he wants to treat you gently and treasure you like fine china and the next he is fucking you senseless and making you cry into the pillow. There is no way to win because this isn't your game to play. It's his.

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likeawildthing · 4 years

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Not to be morbid on main, but everyone dies and people are rarely prepared for it. It’s so much easier when you know your loved one’s wishes. So even if you’re a teenager or twenty-three and healthy, I hope this helps you start thinking about end-of-life wishes, because it can happen to us all (both the dying and, rudely, being died upon).

Cremations are an affordable way to subvert the funeral industry, but going this route puts the burden of “the little things” on the family. I’ve learned a lot in the last 36 hours and wanted to pass those things that weren’t on any checklists, because the burden is on you to navigate the process.

Putting this under a cut because it’s so long (although not comprehensive). Obviously some of this is altered because COVID and some is meant to be applicable in some distant, theoretical future when we can go out to lunch again.

Before you die

Think about it, talk about it, write it down

Think about what kind of rememberance you want, if any. If it doesn’t matter, tell people that so they don’t fret about it and grieve in whatever way works best for them.

Communicate now to save your family and friends angst later.

Build an “in case of death” binder, zip drive, google doc with links, etc. Make sure your passwords are up to date so that’s not an administrative nightmare for your loved ones.

Advanced directives. Here’s a great article explaining the types of medical advanced directives and decisions to make before an accident or illness happens, including whether you want to donate your organs.

We lost grandma for about twenty minutes yesteday because we couldn’t find the paperwork and grandpa couldn’t remember where they signed up for services. Death. Binder. Have a death binder/folder/zip drive so no one loses grandma.

Insurance.

You likely have insurance through work, so consider that. It will also expire if you leave your job.

You can usually get, with minimal fuss, a 10- or 20-year term policy with enough to cover your arrangements and debts for less than $20 a month. Death expenses are anywhere from $5-$20k, conservatively.

Talk to your auto insurance agent and score a multi-line discount.

Body snatchers.

If you want to be cremated, talk to a local crematory beforehand and give them your basic information. It can be paid out of your estate (i.e. by your family or a life insurance policy) when it happens.

Most funeral homes (I believe) require pre-payment. It’s super morbid but there are TONS of heavily discounted grave sites for sale on Craigslist if that’s the route you want to go.

Here’s a list of certified green burial sites in the US.

Donating your body to science 101.

Memorial service.

The idea of a “proper” funeral is more or less out the window, especially in the time of COVID. Celebration of life? Religious ceremony (or not)? A picnic at your favorite park? Anything goes, so figure it out now.

When my sister-in-law died, we had a celebration of life at a non-profit who donated the space and had a poker tournament with her ash tin (she lost).

Whether you have strong or no preferences, write that down to guide decision-making.

Memorials.

Traditionally people would donate money in the event of a death to a charity, foundation, or family account, or flowers to a funeral home or church.

Family accounts (like for children) are traditionally done in care of the deceased’s bank but online fundraisers are a thing.

If you have a particular charity you love, add this to your list of wishes.

Food.

Before COVID it was pretty typical for there to be some kind of meal after a funeral. Will this be a restaurant?

This is ultimately up to the family but if you have strong preferences (i.e. no church or Italian food), tell people now.

Obituary.

Writing down the basic facts of your life, hobbies, and accomplishments you want included in your obituary means your family doesn’t have to do a guessing game.

Plants, animals, stuff, etc.

Do you want your clothes to go to a specific charity?

Do you NOT want your stuff to go to a specific charity? (Goodwill is terrible!)

Who will get your car (person, donate, sell)? Want to have your record collection to go one sister? Obviously family will divvy up stuff how they like, but write down any special considerations.

Have a plan for your pets (insurance, vet info, guardianship).

Please organize and digitize your photos if they aren’t already.

If you lose someone close:

Identify the primary griever

Support that person/those people by providing feedback when solicited, running errands as needed, and running interference so they aren’t inundated with all the little things.

Notifying people

Use the phone tree method. Great Aunt M will be happy to help by calling your cousins. Your boss, coworkers and HR. Your mom’s best friend/your adoptive aunt, your mom’s bunco group.

Ask that family not put anything on social media until the principal people are informed. I found out my grandpa died on facebook!

Esp these days, set boundaries for visits (who, where, and in what capacity).

Designate one person to be the primary contact for extended family to keep the burden off the primary griever(s).

Give this persons’ information when the first phone calls are made. It also makes sense for this person to be the travel coordinator.

This person should have a good handle on family dynamics (i.e. my aunt is flying in and would drive my grandma nuts so she’s staying with Mom).

This should be their only task because it’s time consuming.

Food

When people die, people gather, even in the time of COVID. Be responsible but expect a ton of drop by food. Clean out the primary griever’s fridge in anticipaton.

Organization

Start a shared family Google doc or sheet. Consolidate to do lists, anecdotes, important contact information, questions and inquiries, etc.

Pay to have the houses of anyone hosting (gatherings, people coming in from out of town, etc.) cleaned. Or, delegate. This can be an act of service for someone who wants to help and doesn’t mind doing the work.

Find the death binder (hopefully), legal documentation, etc. Get a folder or binder for papers if one doesn’t exist. And start a shared google doc for loved ones to track everything.

Delegate

I know I have said this three times, but it’s important. If you’re a primary decision maker do not be the primary do-er. My mom is the primary decision maker so my sisters and I are doing literally everything else.

Say YES when people ask if they can help you. Look at your running list of to-dos and say yes.

Pay to have the houses of people who are hosting cleaned. It will seriously be such a life saver, or this can be an act of service for someone who wants to help.

Social media

You will need to decide what to do with a person’s social media. Do you start a tribute page? Turn their facebook (if they’re old) into a tribute page for a time? Indefinitely? Things to think about.

Thank yous

Keep a running list of people to thank after via hand-written thank you notes. The link includes guidelines on

who should receive a thank you note (gave flowers, brought food, made donations, helped with arrangements or the service(s), did readings, or went well out of their way to warm your heart or show up)

when to send them (ideally 2-3 weeks after the funeral)

here’s how to write them (it doesn’t matter if you buy fancy, ones or dollar store ones, make sure they’re hand written).

Receipts.

Don’t be the petty biatch your cousins hate, but do save significant receipts to be reimbursed by the estate. (I.e. catering hundreds of dollars of food, paying $250 for programs and thank-you cards like I just did, etc.)

Service.

You will have a million decisions to make including

what kind of service to hold, if any

where to hold it

costs

hymns, readings, and anecdotes to share

who will be pall bearers, readers, vocalists, and give eulogies

Crematories handle cremation only, not the service details.

you will need photo boards (Hobby Lobby has nice black foamcore ones) or a powerpoint (and a way to display it depending on the venue)

a guest or memorial book

a card basket,

memorial cards, possibly programs, and thank you cards

Officiants, musicians, religious institutions, etc. all need to be paid (and tipped) for their time.

If we ever wrangle this pandemic, donating funeral flowers to a nursing homes is a fantastic way to brighten residents’ days.

Obituary.

Obituaries are expected, but traditionally costly ($200-$800). As part of the publishing fee, most newspapers keep the obituary on legacy.com indefinitely.

A funeral home will assist you with this, but the burden will be on you and your loved ones if using other methods.

These take hours to write and many hands does not make light work. Keep it to 2-4 key people. Having the facts laid out will help, and so will looking at other obituaries. I read a great tip which was to write about your loved one in present tense first, then change the tense before submission.

Newspapers will update your spelling and grammar but that’s about it. Cheaper alternatives:

Death notice which gives age, date and location of death, and who is handling funeral arrangements. Our crematory put in the death notice for us because they had her body, but the requirements on this likely vary state-to-state.

Here is a place to put a free online obituary.

Plants, animals, stuff, etc.

Save the plants and pets.

Household misc. are usually not dictated by the will, except in special circumstances or contested items. Closest members will go through possessions first. Voice early if you want something in particular, but understand that you may not get it. That’s ok.

Going through someone’s life is an overwhelming process. You may be repulsed and sad and overwhelmed and amused, all at the same time.

In deciding what to keep, as I’ve now cleared out three houses, I’ve found that quality over quantity is the way to go. The sweet spot? 1-2 sentimental + useful things. My great grandmother’s thimble and juicer? Use them all the time, and I remember her lemonade.

It’s okay to throw away some keepsakes and let things get thrown out or donated, depending on the thing.

Don’t give into guilt if you don’t want the china your Aunt Karen is pressuring you into taking when she doesn’t want it either.

Legal stuff.

If someone dies, there will be all kinds of legal things you will need to do (bank accounts, utilities, debtors, education, etc.), investments or 401k, etc.

This varies too much by state and circumstance to talk about in depth but there are guides to specifically help you.

If someone you love has lost someone they love

Do not give platitudes or ask if they’re ok

Don’t expect a response from someone grieving

Do send a card! It’s so thoughtful. I keep a stack of blank condolence cards and a set of forever stamps in my closet. It doesn’t have to be a $20 card to be special.

Don’t judge someone by how they grieve

Offer specific, actionable help if you’re close enough to give it

I am going to come over and clean at 10, leave the house unlocked

I’m at the store and am going to buy cheap vodka unless you tell me what kind of wine you want

oops I got you an uber eats gift card in your gmail sorry/not sorry

Buy thank you cards with stamps as a condolence gift, depending on the person and situation

Send a plant instead of a bouquet of flowers

Make a donation in the loved one’s name if you have the funds

If the grieving person is someone super close (best friend, sister, etc.) add the date in your recurring calender so you can check up on them this day next year with a card and/or phone call

#cw death #grief #end-of-life decisions

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boldlyanxious · 4 years

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None the Wiser 4

Masterlist

All fic masterlist

Prompts: habits and overprotection

Damian changed into his Robin gear and sought solace in the familiarity of the Gotham rooftops. It always helped him clear his head which was what he needed right now. His father and brothers were angry at him for how he had treated the bakers' daughter. Well, not Todd, he just laughed every time Damian walked into the room when the others got their tense looks. Even Alfred seemed disappointed with him, he didn't say it but Damian could feel the disapproval.

It would be his last night in Gotham for awhile so he took this habitual route, not to look for crime so much as to burn off his excess energy and frustration. He would be traveling to Paris under the guise of a Justice League mission to reassess the magical villain operating there. The Justice League International had previously stated that it would be best handled by the local heroes using the same magic but recent events had caused them to reassess.

But his father had been very clear. He intended to seek out his biological daughter once again and he expected Damian to make amends with his 'sister' so that she would be more willing to form a relationship with Bruce in the future. Alfred and his brothers were all on board and they couldn't figure out why Damian was being so difficult about it.

---

Marinette sighed in her room. Tikki flitted over to check on her. She was anxiously awaiting the results of her submission to the fashion competition. She had heard 5 others from the lycée had entered and 3 of them had heard back about their entry. It was a surprise to them that the fashion show was now part of the judging. Everyone would be presented and all would have an opportunity for their design to be seen on the runway and photographed. Two of the entries were labeled open runway and one of them had a later time and was labeled a level 2 entry.

Marinette was apprehensive waiting for her own response. She kept worrying that for some reason they would not have received her entry or that they would just tell her they didn't want to see any more from her. On top of that she had heard from Bruce again and he was returning to Paris and was hoping to see her. Her parents had suggested that if she continued seeing him when she could to appease him, he might feel less inclined to make any fuss legally.

She still hadn't told anyone but Luka about him. Marc had taken a picture of Marinette and Adrien sleeping and had shown it to her. She was fairly certain she had seen Nathaniel showing his phone to a blushing Adrien but she hadn't commented. She knew that if the picture got out his father might never let him hang out with them again. Alya had seen it too and took every opportunity to tease Marinette about it, and Adrien too, but it wasn't in front of others so it hadn't become public knowledge.

Marinette was less focused on being noticed by him because she was so worried about her entry to the competition and she was stressed anytime she thought of Bruce. She had caught her parents talking in hushed tones several times over the last few weeks. Part of her routine in the last few weeks was to race across the rooftops and sit at the Eiffel Tower not long after sunset. She didn't like to do it when there was still daylight because she worried that she would be seen or that her new habit would be noticed by those who would try to find out who she was.

This had her running into Chat Noir more frequently because he also used the rooftops as stress management. She didn't feel like she could give him details about her situation but she did mention that she was concerned about an important competition and uncertainty about a revelation involving her family. Chat Noir was always one to use his transformation as an escape. She knew his family expectations weighed on him and she really liked that they had this way to support each other especially now that she was the guardian. Sitting up on the Eiffel Tower felt like it opened up their headspace so their thinking would be more clear.

---

During school today Marinette had learned that all the other entrants for the competition had heard back about their entry. Lila took a moment between classes to taunt her suggesting that they didn't find anything in her entry worth mentioning. Usually she tried to ignore Lila but she happened to hit right on Marinette's biggest fear about it so she decided to go home for lunch for the peace and quiet and hopefully be able to find a letter in the mail today.

It would be just the soothing balm she needed that when she left the building for lunch she saw Damian standing out there. He saw her almost immediately and started walking towards her. Lila and Alya were there and asking questions about this boy they didn't recognize from the school walking up to Marinette. She waved off their questions and walked up to him rather than risk him saying things that would give away her secret before she was ready.

"What do you want?" Marinette asked him.

"I've been told you need an apology," he said.

"I'm listening," she replied.

"Listening for what?" he asked, confused.

"An apology." she said.

"That was the apology," he stated.

"Wow, that was exceptionally poor. So good to see you again."

"Well what do you want from me?"

She paused for a moment to assess him.

"Nothing," she said and then she walked away.

The mail had not arrived by the end of lunch so Marinette was still nervous about it when she returned. She should have considered more carefully who had seen her talking with Damian on her way or because apparently it had been a topic discussed by many while she was away. Alya told her that Lila was very worried about her and thought the boy was a criminal and was probably trying to drag Marinette into a life of crime.

"Marinette, he looked a lot like the boy you were trying to get away from a few weeks ago." Sabrina said.

That comment had people buzzing with renewed energy. They all wanted details about the incident from a few weeks ago and we're looking for any details they had missed when they watched Marinette talk with him outside. Sabrina was too close with Chloe to go out of her way to be concerned about Marinette.

"It's nothing," Marinette said. "I met him officially after that incident. Our parents know each other but we don't really get along."

Marinette walked away to head to class without any further comment. Alya caught up to her, clearly thinking she would get more details. She was telling Marinette all the things Lila thought she knew about him but Marinette didn't know enough about him to have a clear refutation.

"I really don't know him well, Alya. We met once. I know his name is Damian and he lives in America. I met his dad and brothers."

"He's pretty cute. You don't think there is some enemies-to-lovers energy there?" Alya waggled her eyebrows.

"No, definitely not."

Marinette was trying to keep her voice down because there was way too much interest in this from their classmates who were pulling out their books while clearly trying to hear the conversation. Adrien looked slightly concerned and Noah clearly wanted to say something. He hadn't directly talked to Marinette about his interest but he made a few comments to imply he would be interested. It was still pretty early in the first year of lycée so students from the different collèges hadn't fully gotten to know the other groups but Rochelle had made it clear to the other girls that Noah was off limits to them.

Small blessings of new teachers at lycée was that they were better at managing the group than Mlle Bustier. She was young and wanted to be friends with the students she had taught for her first 3 years as a teacher but the lycée teachers started class promptly and it saved Marinette from being the object of discussion. Of course they were still discussing genetics so Marinette's mind wandered to how her biology might have played a role in her characteristics. She had started avoiding answering any questions about her or her parents for fear that her parentage discrepancy would become obvious to others.

She looked around when she was leaving for the day to make sure Damian wasn't around. The last thing she needed was for him to appear and keep himself in the memory of her nosy classmates. Still she was surprised when Noah appeared in front of her. She made an awkward squeaking sound and then quickly covered her mouth. He smiled at her, not quite letting out a laugh.

"Can I walk to the bakery with you?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Did you need to get baked goods?"

"No. I live that way and I wanted to walk with you," he paused but continued when she didn't respond. "Rumor has it you entered the fashion competition."

"I did. I'm still waiting to hear back. I'm so nervous," she said.

"You shouldn't be. I think they are sending them out by level. The first people to get them back were labeled 'open' then came different levels."

She stared at him and then thought it through. He might be right. Based on the ones she had seen the first to hear back had earlier times and the other she knew had received it over the weekend. She hadn't seen it or heard any details of the latest 2 to hear back.

"Do you think?" she asked.

"I do. I bet yours will arrive soon and you will be in the highest group," he said confidently.

It was such a new experience having so many classmates that she didn't know well. It was a smaller group from collège when the schools combined and it had been 3 years ago. It was 2 schools together but for lycée they came from 6 schools several of which were larger than her old school. They felt like little ducklings leaving the safe nest into a huge pond.

When she opened the door she turned to wave Noah off but he was following her into the bakery. She felt a little weird about questioning a possible customer but also a little flustered because it felt like he was following her home. She was quickly distracted by her mother pausing helping her line of customers to lift an envelope where she could see it. She didn't realize that she had grabbed on to Noah's arm like she would one of her other friends but he didn't mind knowing how nervous she was. She pulled her hand back when she realized but asked if he wanted to stay with her while she opened it.

---

Bruce was frustrated by the Justice League meeting. It felt like it was mostly filler and introductions. He already knew everyone and he was distracted by his desire to see Marinette. He knew Damian had gone over that way while he was organizing it and he didn't say that it went well which meant it was probably a disaster. He just wanted to get the meeting over with so he could rush over to fix whatever Damian had done.

He connected with the Justice League International team because of their change in status with the shift in magic being used there. But mostly he needed a cover for continued visits without looking suspicious. Mostly they were activating younger members because of the suspected age of the magical heroes but they needed a few older members for coordinating missions and solving disputes. He wasn't sure he was the best for that particular part of the mission but since Damian, Jon, and Wally were involved he could at least be there to transport them.

He was headed towards the bakery but he saw her in the park near her house so he walked that way just in time to see her jump up and down and hug a boy her age. He walked up and waited to see if her giddiness would fade. He suspected that it would have stayed for quite awhile. She was reaching into her bag for her phone when she saw him looming nearby. She silenced herself immediately as she froze.

Noah looked up at the man watching. He thought Marinette must know him based on her reaction to his presence. If he hadn't just met her parents he would think that he would make the perfect overprotective father. Perhaps he was an uncle. He had a similar, solid build to Tom Dupain but none of his easy-going manner or corny jokes delivered with a smile.

"I thought you weren't meant to be around until later," Marinette said, addressing the man.

"I finished my meeting early so I went ahead and came by."

"I'll need to talk to my parents but I can meet you back out here in a few minutes," she said. She turned to Noah, " Thanks for being with me while I read that. Just don't tell anyone. Alya will kill me if she finds it you knew before her."

"I wouldn't dream of telling. I'll see you tomorrow," Noah replied. He waved and headed off towards his home.

**hoping to get the next couple prompts out very soon. I also posted a loosely connected part for the driving prompt not long ago.

Taglist

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf

#bio dad bruce #maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #boldlyanxious

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1americanconservative · 3 years

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📷 Michael Yon@MichaelYon 📷4 hours ago

Afghanistan SITREP From sourceOCC, 12:00 AMWestern nations race to complete Afghan evacuation as deadline loomsWestern nations rushed to complete the evacuation of thousands of people from Afghanistan on Wednesday as the Aug. 31 deadline for the withdrawal of foreign troops drew closer with no sign that the country's new Taliban rulers might allow an extension.In one of the biggest such airlifts ever, the United States and its allies have evacuated more than 70,000 people, including their citizens, NATO personnel and Afghans at risk, since Aug. 14, the day before the Taliban swept into the capital Kabul to bring to an end a 20-year foreign military presence.U.S. President Joe Biden said U.S. troops in Afghanistan faced mounting danger and aid agencies warned of an impending humanitarian crisis for the population left behind.Biden said they were on pace to meet the deadline, set under an agreement struck with the Islamist group last year to end America's longest war."The sooner we can finish, the better," Biden said on Tuesday. "Each day of operations brings added risk to our troops."Two U.S. officials, speaking on condition of anonymity, said there was growing concern about the risk of suicide bombings by Islamic State at the airport.British foreign minister Dominic Raab said the deadline for evacuating people was up to the last minute of the month.Tens of thousands of Afghans fearing persecution have thronged Kabul's airport since the Taliban takeover, the lucky ones securing seats on flights.Many people milled about outside the airport - where soldiers from the United States, Britain and other nations were trying to maintain order amid the dust and heat - hoping to get out.They carried bags and suitcases stuffed with possessions, and waved documents at soldiers in the hope of gaining entry. One man, standing knee-deep in a flooded ditch, passed a child to man above."I learned from an email from London that the Americans are taking people out, that's why I've come so I can go abroad," said one man, Aizaz Ullah.While the focus is now on those trying to flee, the risk of starvation, disease and persecution is rising for the rest of the population, aid agencies say.1/4A U.S. Marine with the Special Purpose Marine Air-Ground Task Force-Crisis Response-Central Command (SPMAGTF-CR-CC) escorts a child to his family during an evacuation at Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul, Afghanistan,"There's a perfect storm coming because of several years of drought, conflict, economic deterioration, compounded by COVID," David Beasley, executive director of the U.N. World Food Programme, told Reuters in Doha, calling for the international community to donate $200 million in food aid."The number of people marching towards starvation has spiked to now 14 million."The EU said this week it was planning to quadruple aid and was seeking coordination with the United Nations on delivery as well as safety guarantees on the ground.The U.N. human rights chief said she had received credible reports of serious violations by the Taliban, including "summary executions" of civilians and Afghan security forces who had surrendered. The Taliban have said they will investigate reports of atrocities.The Taliban's 1996-2001 rule was marked by harsh sharia law, with many political rights and basic freedoms curtailed and women severely oppressed. Afghanistan was also a hub for anti-Western militants, and Washington, London and others fear it might become so again.LAND ROUTESA NATO country diplomat in Kabul, who declined to be identified, said several international aid groups were desperate to get Afghan staff out and neighbouring countries should open their land borders to allow more people to leave."Iran, Pakistan and Tajikistan should be pulling out far more people using either air or land routes. It's vital air and land routes are used at a very fast pace," the diplomat told Reuters.The Taliban said all foreign evacuations must be completed by Aug. 31, and asked the United States to stop urging talented Afghans to leave, while also trying to

persuade people at the airport to go home, saying they had nothing to fear."Foreign troops should withdraw by the deadline. It will pave the way for resumption of civilian flights," Taliban spokesman Suhail Shaheen said on Twitter."People with legal documents can travel through commercial flights after Aug. 31."The Dutch government, echoing some other governments, said it was all but certain that many people eligible for asylum would not be taken out in time.Dutch troops had managed to get more than 100 people to Kabul airport, Foreign Minister Sigrid Kaag said, but hundreds of others risked being left behind.The U.S.-backed government collapsed as the United States and its allies withdrew troops two decades after they ousted the Taliban in the weeks after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the United States by al Qaeda, whose leaders had found safe haven in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan.Taliban leaders have begun talks on forming a government.OCC, 1:45 AMWhat Will the Taliban Do With Their New US Weapons?With its quick seizure of power, the Taliban also acquired U.S. military equipment left behind by the withdrawal or abandoned by Afghan forces.What Will the Taliban Do With Their New US Weapons? Capturing the enemy’s weapons has been a standard guerrilla tactic for centuries. The American Army could not have succeeded against King George III without seizing the king’s food and armaments. It is one thing to capture weapons and other materiel; it is another to be given the enemy’s gear on a silver platte In the images of the Taliban fighters flooding the streets of Kabul, one detail attracts attention: the lack of the ubiquitous Kalashnikov. Few Taliban appearing now carry the signature weapon of insurgent fighters, the AK-47, and its countless variants from the handmade PakistaniA Taliban fighter stands guard at a checkpoint in the Wazir Akbar Khan neighborhood in the city of Kabul, Afghanistan, Sunday, August 22, 2021.Capturing the enemy’s weapons has been a standard guerrilla tactic for centuries. The American Army could not have succeeded against King George III without seizing the king’s food and armaments. It is one thing to capture weapons and other material; it is another to be given the enemy’s gear on a silver platter. In the images of the Taliban fighters flooding the streets of Kabul, one detail attracts attention: the lack of the ubiquitous Kalashnikov. Few Taliban appearing now carry the signature weapon of insurgent fighters, the AK-47, and its countless variants from the handmade Pakistani versions to the updated Russian AK-19. Most of the Taliban in Kabul’s street seems to prefer American M4 carbines and M16 rifles with their many gadgets attached, from expensive optics to laser sights and flashlights, an uncommon picture in contrast to just a few weeks earlier. The answer to the question concerning the source of these small arms is straightforward: war looting. Another and more important question needs an answer: The fate of the extensive military materiel that the U.S. left behind during its withdrawal or that which was in the hands of the Afghan forces that melted so quickly away as the Taliban advanced. As a landlocked country, Afghanistan makes moving military materiel back to the U.S. neither an easy nor an economical endeavor. Much was removed anyway, and much handed over to Afghan government forces. What couldn’t be taken back, was left. Blowing up in situ large quantities of war materiel is cheaper than shipping it out of Afghanistan. Still, that option creates toxic legacies that would affect the local population for a long time, as happened in Iraq. Nevertheless, lack of time and unreasonable expectations on the survivability of the Afghan security forces caught the Pentagon by surprise. According to Joshua Reno, author of “Military Waste: The Unexpected Consequences of Permanent War Readiness,” recirculating weapons in the places a military force leaves when the battle is over will augment the risks that small arms or other weapons are going to fuel and intensify civil war or instability. According

to a top Pentagon logistics specialist, there is no clear record of the quantity and quality of military equipment left behind. National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan stated that the Taliban probably would not give such materiel back to the U.S. at the airport, adding a note of farce to an already disastrous situation. One of the immediate conclusions drawn from the less-than-optimal U.S. military withdrawal from Afghanistan is how the U.S. can minimize the chances of future disasters stemming out of the Taliban’s use and trade of abandoned U.S. and Afghan military materiel. U.S. military and intelligence had already walked that path in the 1990s, after the anti-Soviet mujahedeen pushed out the Soviet Union. The task at that time was to recover Stingers, highly sophisticated portable surface to air missiles. In order to have a chance against the Soviet Union’s heavily armed attack helicopter Mil Mi-24, essentially a flying tank, the U.S. had equipped the mujahedeen with Stingers in the 1980s. As soon as the war ended with the Soviet defeat, the possibility of those Stingers being employed for terrorist attacks or falling into hostile government hands ignited a hunt to get the portable missiles back. The U.S. intelligence community scrambled to buy them back, allegedly at $100,000 per unit, or obtain the portable missiles by any means. Steve Coll in his acclaimed book “Ghost Wars,” mentioned that when the Taliban seized Kabul in 1996, an estimated 600 of the 2,300 Stingers provided by the CIA during the Soviet-Afghan war remained unaccounted for. Tehran was competing in the same race to acquire as many of the wayward Stingers as possible. Providentially, the threat of a terrorist using a Stinger to shoot down an American passenger plane did not materialize, nor did the Taliban develop a successful insurgent anti-aircraft campaign with the leftovers. And yes, history repeats itself. Today’s quantity and quality of weapons that the Taliban are hoarding since their lightning advance will arguably have unintended negative consequences far from Afghan borders. Sales to hostile governments and on the black market may provide additional revenue to the Taliban and increase uncertainty and instability not only in Central Asia but beyond. Militant organizations such as the Haqqani network, already in Kabul, possess the capability to smuggle weapons from Afghanistan to the Middle East, the African continent, and even to Southeast Asia. Possible scenarios range from small arms used to foster instability in the region or night vision goggles and military-grade communication equipment reaching other militant groups, including the Islamic State. More significant items now in the hands of the Taliban, such as helicopters, can neither be maintained nor flown due to a lack of Taliban pilots and trained maintenance crews. The materiel, however, could be handed over to countries interested in sensitive U.S. technology, and that list is not short. The war looting includes armored Humvees, aircraft, and attack helicopters, as well as military scout drones. Most of the Afghan Air Force’s aircraft were used by Afghan pilots to escape into neighboring Central Asian countries as Kabul fell, but the number still parked on Afghan airfields is unknown. The fall of Kabul, predictably, has been compared with the fall of Saigon. Most of the analogies point to helicopters leaving the roof of the American Embassy. However, another analogy worth referencing is related to the North Vietnamese political commissars’ scrambling to reach the ARVN and South Vietnamese police’s archives to locate the list of intelligence officials and collaborators. In an era of Big Data and databases stored in the cloud, there is a sudden realization that deleting data from the servers and smashing hard drives is not a bulletproof solution. Moreover, there are severe concerns that hundreds of military biometric devices, abandoned in U.S. bases, left a digital breadcrumb trail that the Taliban will use to locate and target former security officials and government supporters.

Handheld Interagency Identity Detection Equipment, in short HIIDE, devices are meant to digitally identify friends from foes via a biometric reading, against databases with fingerprints, iris scans and distinctive facial features. Similarly, social media users in Kabul left a digital trail not only on their mobile phones but also on the internet. It’s now digital proof that can be used against them when the Taliban feels confident of their grip on power and local media control. Discounting the Taliban’s capabilities in accessing actionable digital intelligence could be a mistake. Besides the probable support that the Taliban could receive from foreign intelligence services, it is not wise to disparage the ingenuity of militant groups in harnessing low-tech schemes to counter high-tech weaponry. An example is provided by the case of pro-Iranian militants in Iraq using $26 off-the-shelf software to intercept live video feeds from U.S. Predator drones, potentially providing them with information they need to monitor the unblinking eyes of U.S. drones. The threat of insurgents intercepting drone video feeds has been patched with encrypted communication; however, examples of low-tech tactical efficiencies abound. Since a decade ago, the Taliban have been using off-the-shelf commercial drones to shoot propaganda films and provide aerial scouting and to guide kamikaze flying bombs. This is a playbook borrowed by Islamic State in Syria and Iraq. The recent Taliban capture of Boeing ScanEagle drones, developed for surveillance, could add a new capability to the fighters’ growing arsenal. Also, their tactical use could evolve into alternative and deadly options. From a propaganda perspective, the videos of Taliban fighters parading in Afghan cities with their U.S. war trophies increase the criticism of the Biden administration’s withdrawal decision. Although it remains unclear how the Taliban will govern Afghanistan, the propaganda value of their white flags waving in the wind from the top of U.S.-made Humvees inspires other jihadist and radical Islamist groups to imitate the Taliban’s actions. The perception of augmented combat capabilities provided by the war looting could also push Central Asian countries to strengthen their bilateral security ties with Moscow and Beijing, no matter what, in the face of a Taliban with modern equipment. Sun Tzu, the revered author of the “Art of War,” quoted shoulder to shoulder with von Clausewitz in contemporary Western military PowerPoint presentations, states that the golden rule is to know your enemy. Probably 20 years were not enough.OCC, 2:55 AM Biden, Stoltenberg

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threadsketchier · 5 years

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So I saw the prequels prior to the Originals and it always bothered me how Luke got dumped on a death planet of Tatooine considering the state of that environment and shot that when down in the previous films while Leia got a life of privilege. I was hoping Bail would argue against splitting the twins. I obviously knew why it had to go that route because it had to align and follow up with the Originals. I guess it came off that Luke wasn’t really wanted...?

I already wrote a ficlet somewhat addressing this misconception.

Also, frankly, I’m getting kind of tired of rehashing the same issue - why do people keep assuming that the Larses don’t matter and don’t have a right to be in Luke’s life just because they live on Space Australia? Why do their feelings not count just because they’re low-to-middle-class moisture farmers who don’t live in a palace on Space Switzerland-Utopia? Why the fuck do people assume that Luke wasn’t wanted just because the Organas have a personal preference that was obviously previously established before shit hit the fans and they wanted a daughter and Bail, as a senator and Viceroy - essentially co-leader of his planet - is a fucking rational guy who understands the necessity of making hard decisions dictated by logic over emotions?

The twins weren’t just “split up because that’s how the movies have to go,” it does make internal sense within the narrative that it was safer to hide them in vastly separate locations to prevent both of them from being discovered at the same time and thus lost together, or for their latent Force bond to make them a psychic target if they grew up together and established it, acting like a beacon for Vader and Palpatine and any minions of theirs. It sucks, it’s painful, it has awkward consequences for them later on when Leia’s a bit too loose with her lips, but that’s why these movies have a tragic backstory. It has to suck real hard before it gets better.

Does it seem crazy that Leia wound up raised in such a screamingly obvious position as daughter of a then-Imperial Senator and princess of a highly prominent Core world being trained to follow in her biological mother’s footsteps and become a senator herself, thus occupying a very exposed role in the Empire, right under the Emperor’s and Vader’s noses? Yeah. But also remember that the Superman/Clark Kent illusion can actually work in real life. Assumption is a powerful thing. Your average Joe Citizen would assume that someone as otherworldly as Superman, an alien with the ability to fly, strength to bench-press skyscrapers and jumbo jets, heat vision, and other amazing things, would never stoop to living as a normal, humble, inconvenienced human being. It’s not merely the hiding behind a pair of glasses and hunching over a little with a nerdy tone and habits - it’s the entire idea that a Clark Kent could even exist in the same person of Superman. They don’t understand that he was raised as a human and actually desires this life, and doesn’t feel the need to lock himself away permanently in his dope Fortress of Solitude and never interact with the very people he wants to save and protect.

Vader was lied to by Palpatine about the nature of Padmé’s death, but there was no disputing that she actually died. In his crushing despair, Vader accepted with heaps of self-flagellation that his child was dead. He didn’t even know he had two children. In his mind, whenever he saw Leia - surely they were in each other’s circles at least at a distance before Rogue One and ANH - even if she reminded him of Padmé six ways from Sunday, he would not assume she was his daughter, because as far as he was concerned his child was dead. The OT establishes that latent Force-sensitivity also does not automatically make two related Force-sensitives consciously aware of each other until they mutually know one another as being related and Force-sensitive, so not even torturing Leia revealed this to him.

But I’m going off on a tangent. Let’s break this down:

Tatooine is nothing but a source of anguish for Anakin and his personal loathing for the place made it ideal as a hiding place. And no, I’m not just haha joking about sand. He was a slave there and buried his mother there after slaughtering an entire village of natives he knew in his heart that he shouldn’t have. It holds nothing but misery and failure for him.

Yes, Tatooine is abso-fucking-lutely a galactic cesspit. It’s ruled by the most vile mob boss in the galaxy, is rife with nasty wildlife that’s out to kill you, and is haunted by the troubles brought about by strife between colonizers and the native population. It is indisputably a dangerous place. But it wasn’t Tatooine that killed the Larses. It was the Empire. Just because they look like Soft Folks™ doesn’t mean they were - Owen and Beru knew how to take care of themselves, and they certainly knew how to take care of a child in this environment. They survived to middle age just fine, and would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for those fucking stormtroopers. Just because they didn’t live a life of luxury also doesn’t mean they were dirt poor either. When we meet Luke in ANH, he’s a healthy young lad who still has the privilege to fuck off with his buddies around his farm duties. Life may be tough but it’s not squalor and deprivation for him.

But honestly, even if they WERE dirt poor, they’re still Luke’s family, and they very obviously loved him. I almost feel like I shouldn’t have to restate it, but I will: Owen and Beru loved Shmi, and upon hearing that Anakin died and left behind a baby son, why wouldn’t they be moved and compelled to take Luke in, and why wouldn’t they deserve to have the chance to raise him in their memory? Even though they’d be sad that Luke was orphaned, they might even see this as a blessing to be able to raise Shmi’s grandson and Anakin’s son.

As much as he bitched about chores as a teenager, Luke learned damn valuable skills growing up on a Tatooine moisture farm that, coupled with the Force, saved everybody’s asses at the Battle of Yavin, and went on to make him an ideal squadron leader. Wealth and privilege are not always the best foundation, or at least certainly not the automatic one, for a person to learn good character either.

The Organas are human too. Faced with a difficult choice, they decided to take this poignant opportunity to fulfill a dream they’d been deferring for some time. Sometimes parents wish for a specific child, and that’s their prerogative (except IRL they don’t actually get to pick, they get whatever kid they gestate). If they’d taken Luke and let Obi-Wan take Leia, we’d be having the same argument about Leia growing up on Tatooine. There was no inequality in this decision. Bail and Breha wanted a daughter, there was a daughter present among the twins, so they chose her. This does not mean they valued Luke any less. Since the twins couldn’t be raised together for their own safety, it might as well have come down to a coin toss. Bail isn’t evil for exercising a shred of his personal emotions and desires in a situation where he otherwise knew he’d have to restrain himself. Also, he’d be smart enough to respect the fact that both children had actual family elsewhere in the galaxy and wouldn’t think any less of the Larses just because they live on Tatooine. The only way his decision would be careless or heinous was if he knew Luke was being taken to people who were abusive or so destitute they couldn’t even care for themselves, much less a third person, and he did nothing about it - but we know this is not that situation.

How do you feel about non-wealthy people living in harsh places here on Earth raising their children? Would you expect all the rich people in the world to go take those children away from them and adopt them just so they could grow up “privileged” instead? Think about how that sounds for a moment or two.

Honestly, if Bail had tried to argue about taking both twins because he felt taking Luke to his legal family on Tatooine was “cruel” or “neglectful” because of the planet’s “risky environment and poverty,” I’d hope either Obi-Wan or Yoda would have enough sense to smack him upside the head for being so thoughtless as to insult these people for being seemingly beneath him.

There is more to life than money and power/prestige, and Leia’s upbringing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She was no pampered, air-headed royal spending her days sitting idle being hand-fed space grapes while her “poor” brother ate sand cookies. She had to undergo intensive academic, political, and physical training from young childhood in order to prepare her to become a covert Rebel agent while she was still a teenager, as if being a child senator wasn’t already stressful and demanding enough. Sure, she never lacked for anything, but that is an incredible amount of responsibility to saddle on someone who wasn’t even an adult yet (like her bio mother). Luke was blessed with far more freedom and peace in his childhood than his sister. And him living on Tatooine with his father’s surname wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Leia existing within the heart of the Empire while actively engaging in Rebel activities that could have cost her her life, even without getting into the whole “daughter of Anakin Skywalker” business.

Also, just because we joke about Tatooine being Space Australia doesn’t mean every single day of Luke’s childhood was THAT eventful. It was more likely 80% dull farm life and 20% mayhem, and that 20% would be mostly Luke’s fault for being a crazy nut like his parents and getting himself into trouble he could have avoided in most cases. In other words, growing up there might not have been nearly as “deadly” as we make it out to be.

#i am in a Mood™ about this tonight & i don't care #high-sodium post ahoy #i know i have the tag #aunt beru is metal af #but honestly i need a tag for #the larses are metal af #my meta #star wars #luke skywalker #grew up in space australia & it shows #leia organa #owen lars #beru whitesun lars #bail organa #breha organa #classism

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betweentheracks · 4 years

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can you tell us what your credentials are and what sort of studies/coursework did you have to take up to get to your position? and, if not too personal, what your day to day work life might look life in and out awards seasons or other big ticket events your clients might need styled for?

This is long and rambling, I do apologize.

Regarding coursework and education routes into becoming a pro stylist, the thing is that there isn’t necessarily a need for a specific type of education. You could literally drop school and strive for success by the grit of your teeth and iron will alone if you really want and still could gain great acclaim. It isn’t exactly common but it does happen if you strike upon fortunate circumstances and garner experience wherever possible to form the base of your portfolio and profile which will later shape your reputation.

As it is, most studios and clients do tend to give more consideration to those that come from an academic qualifications and learning. While experience if the foreground on which all stylists (and any other set of industry workers) tread, having the support and security of studying styles and fashion and marketing and all manner of related blather gives a sense of merit and provides opportunities for your to be selected for a job despite a lack of reputation or experience. The best stylists fall from both trees and the worst do as well; there is no guaranteed recipe for success in this field as fashion itself is too fluid in expression to be quantified.

As for what I did; I had hands in both pots and have the educational background that assures I know what I am doing in terms of textual/technical understanding as well as experience from moments of pure luck compounded by my audacious efforts. I have a Bachelor’s compromised of fashion merchandising, fashion retailing, marketing, and visual arts. I took side courses at a fashion technical institute with a more tailored program that catered to the fundamentals of fit, body (and measurements) assessment, design and trends, media styling, and fashion industry principles. Additionally I did half a semester of social skills in a business. From there I went on to snatch up an internship and spent a bit more than a year being a shadow of the stylists for the company I work for before grasping a golden chance to become notable and step beyond that restricted role. I also have the certifications of AICI CIC and AICI CIP with hopes to one day finally snag the coveted AICI CIM (respectively; certified image consultant, certified image professional, certified image master).

I had friends that have worked in and out of this end of the industry and knew from the jump that I wanted to pad my portfolio with the safety net provided by academia and use it to bridge the gaps in my experience early on. I figured if I had the knowledge of how to deal with the business side of things as well as the styling side then I was a bit more valuable and, worst case, could go be a consultant or advisor for retailers or big wig company heads. As it is, the only reason I have any clout to my name at all is due to my internship - it paved over all the potholes in the road I was on and has been very favorable, but not everyone is as fortunate as I have been and this is not an easy path to undertake and forge into a career with any real sense of stability or security. Freelance stylists have a completely different struggle despite the majority coming from similar backgrounds as myself.

Now, onto the daily scope and specs of wardrobe styling ~

Please take into consideration that I am an admitted workaholic/perfectionist/overachiever within the boundaries of my work. I’m quite lazy in almost every other sense of living and make existing seem like a wreck and I’m the one driving the struggle-bus that caused it, but for the job I have I am a supremely different breed (though still a lunatic). So yeah, I do a lot more than most would in my position and it is actually something that my company head both loves and hates and is rumored to be writing a clause for all employees regarding allowable working methodology due to the sheer amount of paperwork I alone generate. I am the hazard of our company, but I am also an asset.

Anyway, I start most of my days with a lot of reading through emails that range from client comments and commands to vendors looking to use my company or clientele to bolster their credibility, to brands extending offers of product usage for marketing and campaigning reasons, and a variety of back and forths between me and the PAs or clerks of photographers, other studios, and fashion houses. Next comes hours of phone calls and reviewing schedules to ensure there is no intersections between client-oriented event slots. For one photoshoot I typically spend 3-4 weeks on the semantics of lighting quality and set features and then the rest of the time is dedicated to wardrobe and piecing out however many styles are called for, and then usually adding in at least 2 extras just for good measure. There's so many meetings my butt goes numb and touching base with the other members of my glam teams to reaffirm that we are all working on tandem and on the same page as far as vision goes. I sometimes have a turn in taking care of a new trainee or intern that is wandering our workplace like a fawn on clumsy legs and have questionable instincts.

When it comes to pulling apparel to make up sets, I have been known to be in the rack rooms and show rooms and fashion archives for over 7 hours a day. Our archivists know me as personally as I know my assistants and friends from how often I am in there territory and have to rely on their hardwork and favor. I spend days doing this until I have what I need and then dedicate every bit of my attention designing and creating looks which is another 5+ hours of one day, over the course of many. I have had days where I have been at work for 16 or 17 hours before I realize it, which is why I am such a thorn in my boss’ ass and often told to take a day off or get sent home midway through the morning - my hours alone could have business bureaus raising their eyebrows at the legality of my working hours. (This is cranked to max when shows and events are in the schedule; Awards Season is a nightmare and tours are the bastard offspring of Hell actually. The amount of hours put in are truly horrific).

Also worth mentioning for the sake of perspective is that my job is as expansive as my clients allow; if they request me for one of their various activities in the public eye or in media, if available, I am obligated to prioritize their needs above the projects that my company has assigned to me as per our contract and am expected to either find a replacement or delegate to my assistant and apprentice when possible. The opposite is also true: if my clients have a light workload or are on break from their careers, I am typically doing the busy work of in-studio tasks or tracking rising trends and other features of the fashion forecast. I also host a multitude of temporary contracts with all manner of clientele from brand ambassadors to photographers to celebrities to commercial shoots & services. These jobs come upon official requests made through the company and then negotiated into the terms of how short the working schedule will be, what work I will be undertaking, and an assessment of skills vs revenue to maintain a balance of my time as a professional being properly valued within the sad decline of styling budgets before it will be officially taken on in my name. For these I tend to make better use of my status and hand off most of the project unless I am specifically needed. I make appearances as necessary but am mostly an advisor rather than the producer, instead focusing on my exclusive clients all while staying keyed in so that the work isn't below standard. This is all a badly kept secret of my company and myself - the clients do typically know and accept this is how I handle things in general and are aware that they are paying for an absent role of by way of my name/credentials unless they specify otherwise. There have been times when a side job like this has more prestige than all the years of my experiences combined could generate which ostensibly is treated with much more care and most of my other work pauses in deference to this.

Being a stylist, especially a wardrobe AND fashion stylist, is just so much I don't think I could fully capture the scale of it for a proper index of what we do.

In short, I don't have routine days. I have days that are at the beck and call of a workload that changes at the drop of a pin or the half digit uptick that dictates the emergence of a new trend or the downwind of when a trend skews into becoming mainstream. I can be paced out and looking at a light day at my desk and suddenly be crammed into a pitch meeting or called out to a set. I've also spent many days lounging on the sofa in a client's dressing room playing on my phone and cracking jokes with the glam team as we wait for our client to return between performance takes. And then there are days when I only go into work for our weekly meeting and review before heading back home. It's constant and consuming and sometimes I can't catch my breath before I'm shoved into the show room under a daunting time crunch because an entire ensemble has been misplaced or ruined. Just a matter of days before I was felled by COVID-19 I was having a nap during a photoshoot which I had already fulfilled my purpose and had no further need to participate in.

The reality is that I spend the majority of my time carving out a balance of my work life not superseding my time dedicated to being with my son and making sure he knows no matter what, he is above my hectic career always.

#racks asks

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Reactions (Bit 2)

Bit 1 | Bit 2

This is Fandomversary 2020 Fic Three - Bit 2. And guess what? It is at least a three chapter story. ::headdesk:: I knew this was going to happen.

This is for @soniabigcheese who asked for Gordon and Bedlam. That’s where it started…it seems to want to go in directions I hadn’t planned.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight and @scribbles97 for all their wonderful help with this fic (and always).

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Fortunately or unfortunately, it took the trip to the police station before their identities were discovered.

The police chief was dragged from her office. She was a short woman, probably in her fifties with eyes that had seen far too much. She looked Virgil and Gordon up and down, stared at their ID and set her shoulders.

“Don’t expect special treatment here. The law is the law. Money does not let you escape it.” She handed their ID back to the duty officer. “Process and book them just like the others. Maybe they’ll learn something.” She turned her back to them and disappeared into her office.

Virgil stared after her with an aching face. A glance at his brother found a Gordon explosion in the making.

“Gords.”

Those russet brown eyes darted in his direction and Virgil shook his head just once.

The aquanaut’s lips thinned to almost nonexistence, but his shoulders settled. He still turned to the officer, however. “At least can we please have some medical attention for my brother?”

“After processing.”

And they were fingerprinted and genetically identified. The database churned out Gordon’s military record and two brushes with the law as a teenager.

Dad had been so angry both times.

Kind of like what Scott was going to be in a short period of time.

Virgil didn’t have a police record. All his liaisons with the law had been as an International Rescue operative. The database was pedantic and churned out a list of all the incident files he had been a signatory on.

It was a long list.

At least some respect appeared in the officer’s eyes at the math of how many people had been saved by the two men standing in front of him.

Regardless, they were searched. Gordon’s pocket knife was confiscated and Virgil watched sadly as they packed away the brand new piano string he had bought on the way in to town. What was worse was his favourite multitool, which lived in his left boot, went with it. Gordon frowned at the sight of it.

Holograms were taken and they were escorted to a cell, fortunately one that only contained the two of them. There, finally, Virgil was able to let his shoulders drop and lean back against the cool brickwork and let out a breath.

“Sorry, Virg.”

A slow blink. “Had to be done.” A sigh and he reached for his collar. “Thunderbird Two to Tracy Island.”

“Tracy Island, how goes those steaks, Virg?”

He pressed his lips together and his cheek complained. “Could be better.”

Scott picked up his tone of voice immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He really didn’t want to ruin his brother’s mood. Another sigh. “Got into a fight. Been arrested.”

There was total silence at the other end of the line. “You’ve been arrested?”

“Yes, and Virgil was punched in the face!”

That face glared at his little brother. “I’m fine, Scott, but we need bail.”

More silence.

Shit.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” The line cut dead.

Virgil slumped against the wall.

“Fifteen? He’s not using One is he?”

A sigh. “Yes, he is.”

“Virgil, report.” John’s voice was sharp and Gordon rolled his eyes.

Virgil held up a hand, stopping Gordon from adding to the mess. “We’re in jail, John, as you have no doubt scanned thoroughly. Tell Eos to be subtle this time.”

“Excuse me, Virgil, it wasn’t my fault last time.” Her voice was even sharper than John’s and it rattled his headache.

“One word, Eos…popcorn.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“She was just trying to help, Virgil.” Okay, so he had stepped on his brother’s ‘daddy toes’.

He touched a finger gingerly to his bruised cheek. “Whatever. Just do what you can to stem the tide of paparazzi.”

A sigh. “FAB.” Pause. “You still haven’t given me your report.”

“Virg has a shiner in the making. Needs an x-ray of his cheek bone. That asshole hit him hard.”

Virgil glared at Gordon and paid for it when it pulled at his injured face.

“Grandma has been notified.”

Shit. Could this day get any worse? He had only wanted to relax for a couple hours.

“Scott’s en route.” Was he imagining a hint of apology in his space brother’s tone? There was certainly enough concern.

“I’m fine, John. Just need to get out of here.”

“Help is on the way.”

His only answer was a grunt.

-o-o-o-

Scott was punctual as usual. There was no missing the roar of One’s engines as she caused a traffic hazard outside the building.

Virgil, who had been nagged to lie down by a persistent aquanaut, pushed himself upright at the sound.

Gordon was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Now we get to see some action.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and regretted it. Another poke and prod revealed some nasty swelling. He must look a sight.

Scott was going to be unbearable.

It was another five minutes after the cooling of rocket engines out in the street before their cell door was flung open.

The situation was worse than expected.

Virgil stared, still sitting down on the bed, as his grandmother hurried into the room.

Oh, shit.

He had the briefest glance of a concerned Scott before their grandmother was in front of him.

“Virgil, oh honey.” Her fingers took his chin as she studied his injury.

“I’m okay, Grandma.”

“We’ll see.” And with the flick of a purple wrist, out came a medical scanner, its yellow light flickering over his face. He flinched away. “Hold still, honey. Just a moment, I promise.”

He felt like a five-year-old.

“Gordon, report.” Scott’s voice was sharp and so military, Virgil could hear Gordon’s spine crack into attention. What followed was a concise and accurate report of the fight. Virgil was surprised at how much his little brother had absorbed amongst the bedlam.

“Your cheek bone is not broken, but you’ve got a doozy of a contusion there, honey. Lots of bed rest and chicken soup for you.”

Great. Just great.

He hoped the soup was from a can.

Another voice echoed down the corridor. A firm and sharp stream of legal terms that definitely did not sound good for anyone who wasn’t a Tracy.

“You brought Jack?”

Scott’s attention switched to Virgil. He shrugged. “He’s our lawyer. You’re in jail. Seemed pertinent.”

“In fifteen minutes?”

“He got a ride in Thunderbird One.”

Virgil snorted. “Was that a reward or a punishment?”

“He seemed to enjoy it.”

Jack Dunning was their family lawyer and considering their occupation, he earned every cent the Tracys threw at him. Short, dumpy and balding, the man was raking the police chief over the coals as they arrived at the door of the cell.

One glance at Virgil and Jack turned back to the chief and ripped her an extra one about his medical condition.

“We called the medical attendant.” Her words were defensive and much less the sure person they had met before.

“So, you’re telling me, International Rescue could respond faster from halfway around the world than you could find a local doctor? Considering the amount of swelling, Mr Tracy could quite easily have a concussion, broken cheek bone, possibly internal bleeding. Why was he not seen to?”

“We were in the process of-“

Jack ignored her and prodded his tablet.

“What about the other participants? Your report mentions that there was some loss of consciousness. Have these men been attended to?”

“The severity of their injuries called for it, yes. Procedure-“

“Then why was Mr Tracy neglected?”

“He was not. The medical attendant was on his way.”

“So, International Rescue can respond faster.” He poked his tablet some more.

“Look, I don’t know how you rich types expect to be treated, but in this police station everyone is treated fairly and equally.”

“You better hope so.” Jack’s tone was final and spoke of an investigation in the future.

“Okay, boys, time to go home.” Grandma really was the real commander on the team. It was proven by the fact Scott did not hesitate to obey.

“Gordon, you have Thunderbird Two. Virgil, you’re riding with me.”

“Really?” So, it came out whiney and petulant. Big deal.

“There is no way you are flying with that injury, young man.” Grandma tugged him to his feet.

“I’m fine, Grandma. It’s just a bruise. You said so yourself.”

“Forget it, Virgil.” Scott’s tone was final and spoke of future discussions on the topic.

Okay, so Grandma being here was a temporary distraction from the words Scott had no doubt were loaded up and ready to be fired his way.

Time for a pre-emptive strike. “We were in the right, Scott.”

“I’m aware of that, Virgil. Time to go.” Scott ushered Gordon ahead, gently took Virgil’s arm and led him from the holding cell.

A glance at those pursed lips made it very clear that as predicted, Scott was pissed.

An internal sigh.

This was not going to be fun.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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wiseabsol · 4 years

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WA Reviews “Dominion” by Aurelia le, Chapter 14: Two Birds

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6383825/14/Dominion

Summary: For the Fire Nation royal siblings, love has always warred with hate. But neither the outward accomplishment of peace nor Azula’s defeat have brought the respite Zuko expected. Will his sister’s plans answer this, or only destroy them both?

Content Warnings: This story contains discussions and depictions of child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and incest. This story also explores the idea that Zuko’s redemption arc (and his unlearning of abuse) is not as complete as the show suggested, and that Azula is not a sociopath (with the story having a lot of sympathy for her). If that doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, I would strongly recommend steering clear of this story and my reviews of it.

Note: Because these were originally posted as chapter reviews/commentaries, I will often be talking to the author in them (though sometimes I will also snarkily address the characters). While I’ve also tried not to spoil later events in the story in these reviews, I would strongly recommend reading through chapter 28 before reading these, just to be safe.

Now on to chapter 14!

CHAPTER 14: TWO BIRDS

Hello everyone! We are now on chapter fourteen, “Two Birds.”

So first, the A/N. It mentions a fic called “In the Madhouse,” which I should look up at some point, since Aurelia liked it and we have similar tastes in Azula fic. ultranos’ “Salt and Ashes” series is one that we’ve been enjoying lately. There is also a discussion in the A/N about the challenge of addressing and stopping Ozai’s abuse of Azula. One thing that isn’t mentioned there, but that I want to note, is that intervening in a parent-to-child abuse situation is difficult even without the challenge posed by the parent being a powerful political figure. Best case scenario, you get the kid away from their abuser before the abuser realizes what’s happening—because if you don’t manage that, that kid will probably be the one who the abuser takes their anger out on. After all, how could anyone else have known what was happening unless the child told them (which isn’t necessarily true, but it’s what the abuser will think)? This isn’t to suggest that it’s better to leave the child in that situation, but just to point out that you can’t afford to misstep or take half-measures when extracting the child from that environment.

I think I may have mentioned this before, but Iroh being able to live in Ba Sing Se and run his teashop, even under a pseudonym, feels like a backhand to the Earth Kingdom. Yes, he helped the Order of the White Lotus liberate the city, but does that make up for the 600 Day Siege that came only a few years before? Surely someone must recognize him and want revenge for the lives lost during it?

Granted, an assassination attempt would cause a diplomatic incident, but I somewhat doubt that the mourners would care? Maybe there were some attempts already, which Iroh thwarted? I could see him thinking of this as a type of penance, to face the loved ones of those his siege killed. I suppose I’m also wondering how much him being an intelligence asset for the OWL would make up for his past colonialism (now cultural imperialism?) in the eyes of the world? Him settling in Omashu or another Earth Kingdom settlement, sure, but BA SING SE? Why was that allowed? I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that some of the Earth Kingdom nobles knew and were hoping that someone would take a crack at him. They’d hand-wring and launch a half-assed investigation afterwards, and when Zuko would inevitably become impatient and send in his own forces to get to the bottom of things (who the EK would then ask to leave, but of course Zuko wouldn’t back down)—well, isn’t that another route to a war of revenge for the Earth Kingdom, which they could hide under the guise of self-defense?

In short, no matter how Iroh justified this decision to himself, it’s hard not to see this as him mooning the Earth Kingdom and asking them to bite him.

On to the chapter itself! June and Nyla have arrived with a passenger and have paralyzed poor Ty Lee. Zuko “almost forgot [Ty Lee] was there,” so yeah, putting this in the “they’re not really that good of friends” evidence bin. If my friend faceplanted in the ground after getting whipped, I’d definitely be hurrying over and checking on them. Mind you, this is the Avatar world, so your friend getting knocked to the ground might not be as much cause for concern.

June calls Ty Lee a twit for not knowing how shirsu venom works, but I’m like, “Chi blocking is way more impressive, you jerk, don’t call her that!” But I’m biased because I adore this Ty Lee to pieces.

June’s passenger is an Earthbender, given his bare feet, and seems to have fallen onto hard times, given his frayed and faded robe. This man, we soon learn, is a member of the Dai Li, and…I can’t remember what happened in canon, but I believe Azula recruited them for a while after her coop in Ba Sing Se? I wonder if the Earth Kingdom didn’t take that well (that and they were keeping the king in the dark about the war, if I remember correctly). So possibly this one is trying to earn some good favor back by catching Azula.

Since Nyla was tracking Azula’s scent, the Dai Li agent quickly puts two and two together that Azula’s scent being on Zuko means that they did the naughty. A part of me is like, “Well, it could also be suggested by Nyla targeting Ty Lee that a hug is enough to leave Azula’s scent behind, which is more recent, and…Zuko, did you not take 100 showers after boinking your sister? For real, my dude?” My point being that it seems like a big leap for the Dai Li agent to put together that the siblings had sex…except that this Dai Li agent also saw the beach house, according to Zuko. So yeah, that probably had some more, uh, pieces to add to that puzzle.

The Dai Li agent is thrilled because he can use this information to take down Zuko. It also turns out that the Dai Li are blackmailing June, rather than paying her. They must be really hard up if they have to resort to that. June was amoral in the show, so she would have leapt at the chance to pursue the bounty on Azula. Though if she had, then the Dai Li couldn’t take the credit for capturing Azula…(sigh).

Anyway, the Dai Li agent tries to pressure Zuko into calling off his search or he’ll tell everyone his secret (Ty Lee is very confused by this in the background). I can’t help but think, “This is a no-win situation, Zuko. He’s going to tell regardless, and if he does, you, Azula, and probably Mai and Lu Ten are doomed. This is a case where you need to take him out if you want to keep your family safe.” I don’t relish saying that—I’m not a fan of murder—but unless you have the help of certain spirits, there’s no wiping this man’s memory in this setting, and imprisoning and/or executing him would show that Zuko has something to hide. Best to leave him in a ditch somewhere.

Zuko doesn’t connect these dots yet. He has a bit of a rage-out instead. The Dai Li agent nearly kills Ty Lee in response, but Zuko manages to drag her out of the way of the fight. When the Dai Li agent disappears, June shouts at Zuko, because the Dai Li agent might think that they’re working together, which means that they might execute the hostage they’ve taken—her father. Zuko argues that they should work together to track down the Dai Li agent, who Zuko realizes knows way too much. June is initially reluctant, because the Dai Li agent is sending regular reports to his bosses, so if he vanishes, they’ll know that something is up…but Zuko argues that he can help her find her father (a lot of searching for family in this story) and then he’ll hire her to find Azula instead. June pivots and agrees to this new deal. I wonder if she knows that Zuko was a scarily competent tracker at one point.

Zuko carries Ty Lee to the steps of the Kyoshi Shrine, and Ty Lee pleads with him not to search for Azula, since she doesn’t want to see him. Zuko, predictably, doubts Ty Lee’s word and then says, “I can’t respect her wishes, Ty. Not with her life at stake.” On the one hand, he does have a point—Azula needs help—but on the other hand, she really doesn’t need help from ZUKO. Chances are that seeing him would be rather…uh…triggering for her, and a mental breakdown isn’t something that Azula can afford right now.

Zuko tells Ty Lee to go update Mai on what’s going on. That’ll be fun. Ty Lee seems to be considering telling Zuko that Azula is pregnant, but equivocates instead, and we learn that Azula might not know about the death sentence hanging over her. I feel like the Kyoshi Warriors let that slip, and that Azula is smart enough to know that the EK would take her out if they caught her anyway, regardless of the legality of them doing so. Then Zuko and June are off, leaving Ty Lee alone and paralyzed at the shrine. And you didn’t even give her a blanket, you jerks! Also, is there really not a shirsu venom antidote? Seems like something someone should invest in!

We shift over to Azula, who sailed from Kyoshi Island to the Earth Kingdom mainland during a storm. The good news is that the storm prevented her pursuers from catching her. The bad news is that the storm destroyed her ship, nearly drowned her, and snatched away her supplies, including Rai’s gold. So Azula is not feeling great after that—possibly she was triggered by nearly drowning, being reminded of Katara’s ice prison during the Agni Kai, and she hasn’t eaten in a while either. Her situation reminds me a bit of “Zuko Alone”—he also didn’t have much more than the clothes on his back—but she’s worse off, given the effects of her pregnancy. She’s much more fatigued than she wants to be, sometimes napping for hours in a bush. Azula thinks about the baby being a product of incest—“She would be lucky if it wasn’t born with gills or extra limbs or some crippling deformity.” Which…is something to be concerned about. There is a lot of shared DNA between the two parents, which makes the risk of a genetic deformity or disease more likely to arise. I doubt that it would be something as extreme as the kid having gills, BUT Azula and Zuko have both shown signs of mental illness, so I think there is a high chance that the kid would inherit that. A supportive environment and other resources can do a lot to address how hard mental illness hits someone, though (in Azula and Zuko’s cases, their environment aggravated theirs), so I’m not going to be too worried for this kid just yet.

Azula considers that she might lose the baby. “This early, and it might not even hurt, she told herself. It might die. Wasn’t that what happened to mistakes?”—Woof to all of that, but also, no wonder Azula is such a perfectionist. When the result of imperfection is dying….

Azula considers starving the fetus out, since she’s barely getting enough food as it is. This is a terrible idea for two reasons: 1.) Azula has nearly died once already from starving herself, and damaged her organs in the process, and 2.) She’s in enemy territory. She can’t afford to make herself weak, even if she thinks there might be long-term benefits from it.

At this point, she starts hallucinating Ursa, who unfortunately believes that a fetus and a baby are the same thing, which is very pro-life of her. Boo, hallucination!Ursa! Boo! I’m not sure this actually reflects what real Ursa thinks, though (I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ursa was hypocritical about this point), given that a later chapter will reveal that Ursa knows what plants to use to induce an abortion, and used them as birth control at one point. Azula alludes to this: “You would have done the same to me, if Father let you. He told me the truth you were too craven to admit. You never wanted me.”—Ouch!

Okay, this is bad, but I couldn’t help but snort at the line, “You only think [that this is a precious baby] because it’s Zuko’s.” It’s so awful that it wraps around to being darkly funny.

“Something clenched painfully in her chest at the words [I love you, Azula. I do] she had heard too many times to count from this twisted mockery. Azula couldn’t remember anymore if her real mother ever said that to her.”—Yeah, if the child ever doubts that their parent loves them, then the parent has failed, full stop.

“It wouldn’t matter if she had. It would just be one more lie. Didn’t her abandonment prove that? Didn’t Ursa prove it every time she looked on her daughter with fear or disgust or indifference? Didn’t she prove it with the things she said, the letters she never sent to school, the sparring matches she couldn’t be bothered to attend? The goodbye she said to Zuko and not to her… She had every day of eight years to prove it was a lie, and she proved it.”—This passage is brutal. And Azula is 100% right about it. Even though Ozai undermined Azula’s faith in her mother, Ozai would have had a much, much harder time doing so if Ursa had put some effort in and demonstrated her love for her daughter. Ursa’s neglect made his job so much easier than it should have been, and Ursa is going to have to reckon with that one day.

Also, as someone who recently escaped some toxic friendships (and grew up with a toxic parent), there is probably nothing more psychologically damaging than people saying that they care about you, but then not demonstrating that with their actions. People who don’t like you being cruel to you is much easier to handle than the lying is. In short, I think this is part of why Ursa’s betrayal, and at one point, Mai’s and Ty Lee’s betrayal, shattered Azula. While Zuko’s betrayal has also affected Azula severely, you get the sense that Ursa’s and Mai’s choices carved deeper scars in her. Ty Lee, fortunately, broke from that pattern and proved how much she loved Azula with her actions.

Azula tells the hallucination, “I’ll give you your life back [ . . . ] A life for a life, isn’t that how it works? [ . . . ] I’ll get the closure I need to end this, and never have to see you again.” We, the readers, can already tells that it’s not going to be that simple. Yes, Azula needs to confront Ursa, but one confrontation isn’t going to give her closure. It will address the wounds that Ursa caused, but it won’t give Azula the love and support she would need to heal them. That love and support, incidentally, doesn’t have to come from Ursa herself—adoptive family could provide it—but there isn’t anyone except maybe Rai who would be willing to fill that role in this story. Also, given the way this story is structured, that healing will probably come in the form of mother and daughter reconciling instead.

“Sometimes [the hallucination] left at her command, other times it ignored her. Azula had long since stopped wondering why.”—Because your conscious and subconscious minds don’t agree on whether they want hallucination!Ursa gone, Azula.

“It was her own business if she wanted it gone. It had no more right to her body than Zuko did.”—Damn right, Azula!

Azula again entertains the notion of starving herself to induce a miscarriage (a note from the future: we later learn that there was a period where she was starved as a child, so I have to wonder if that stunted her growth and contributed to the eventual damage to her organs). She is understandably anxious about this. “Tears burned her eyes when she hugged herself around the middle in unconscious imitation of the night she lay bleeding in the hall.”—Ouch.

“Everyone knew that, exceptions like Taku aside”—I forget who Taku was?—“most Earth Kingdom doctors fell somewhere between butchers and medicine men. She would be a fool to trust her health to them, even without the added vulnerability of being a fugitive.”—I wonder if this is true or if this is some racist colonialist bullshit? Given that it’s mentioned that the Fire Nation has been sharing resources with the other countries, I feel like if there WAS a gap in medical knowledge, it’s been closing since the end of the war. But Azula’s concern about being a fugitive still stands, even if I’m skeptical of their doctors being that bad.

Then we get this gross recollection: “That first time, she was hardly sick until she began drinking the tea. She had only put on a little weight—most of it in the swell of her hips and budding breasts, it seemed then—” So something that most of the adults around her would have overlooked, since she was the right age for that. “—and sought out their court physician for a flu remedy when mild aches and a fatigue one fraction of what she felt now began to impair her training.” Of course she only cared about how it impacted her training, rather than just wanting to not feel sick!

“And in reply, he told her something incomprehensible. She hadn’t even had her first blood.” I AM SCREAMING! “She didn’t know what to look for then, but she knew now. She was almost four months gone when—” This is so deeply horrifying!

“No one would ever talk about it afterward—and anyway, who would she talk to?—but Azula suspected this might have been why she hemorrhaged so badly. But she didn’t know. She didn’t know enough to fix this, if it could even be fixed. She didn’t know what to do….”—Boy, it sure would have been helpful if she’d had a midwife to consult, wouldn’t it? I’m sure her actual doctor could have told her this info, too, but unfortunately, Ozai had him killed. Idiot. Seriously, Azula absolutely needs to know this information about her own reproductive health. Especially if she was going to be Ozai’s heir and was expected to have children of her own someday (which, god, I doubt she would have survived long enough for that, given Ozai’s choices, but STILL, SHE NEEDS TO KNOW THIS STUFF).

“She seemed to vaguely recall her doctors saying, after she starved herself, that she couldn’t have children. Since obviously she was capable of conceiving, she could only guess they meant that she shouldn’t have children. Well, they wouldn’t be the first to hold that opinion. Azula could practically hear Ursa thinking it, when she said things like ‘What is wrong with that child?’ in full hearing of her daughter.”—Listen, Azula, even if it was somehow true that you’d be a bad parent, a lot of people who shouldn’t be parents end up being parents, like your dad and grandad. As it is, if this is something that you’re worrying about, I think you’ll be okay, since you’ll be much more careful with your kid than they were with theirs.

Azula considers the medical reasons why a full-term pregnancy might be a bad idea, and notes that “her endurance had taken a hit, even three years into her recovery. And she healed slower and less effectively than she used to, as evidenced by the persistence of her injuries from the fight with Zuko.”—Yeah, starving yourself or being starved as a kid can result in some nasty effects, with not reaching your full height being one of the most outwardly obvious ones. It also can trigger a survival mode in your body where your body desperately holds onto fat later, even when you’re getting enough to eat, in preparation for the next lean time. This can have a generational effect as well, with your kids being more likely to hold onto fat, because their parents or grandparents went through that experience. If Azula wasn’t on the run and didn’t go through such strenuous training routines, she’d probably incline towards being pudgy. Which honestly wouldn’t be a bad thing for her, since a fat reserve can be beneficial if you’re someone with a uterus. Buuuut knowing Azula, she would view a little roll as a sign of laziness, which…

(sigh)…isn’t true, but you do you, Azula.

She considers that she might lose the baby anyway, given the past harm done to her body, and that, “she might die herself. Azula was mildly surprised to realize that after a month of living with the knowledge of her death sentence, and even longer spent knowing she was a fugitive from her own nation, the prospect held little dread for her.”—This is worrying. She should care about whether she dies or not, but I can’t imagine that she’s really recovered from…well, her flirtation with suicide. You don’t get the sense that Azula values her own life very much. Rather, she values what she can provide to others, namely to her father and her nation. She’s been taught that she herself has no value—only what she does is worthwhile.

“More frightening in some ways was the possibility that this might actually happen. Beyond the violation of her body being given over to another life, her life might be given over to another person. Azula didn’t know how to be a mother, any more than she knew how to be an aunt or a sibling.”—To be fair, I don’t think anyone really knows how to be a parent until it happens. Also, she never got the opportunity to be an aunt to Lu Ten, which is a shame, because her pretending to kidnap him and taking him somewhere fun sounds like good, wholesome mischief. Alas, this is not a soft world where that can happen.

“She had never had anything like a healthy example.”—Very true. Someday, Azula, you’ll have an aunt figure to look up to in an AU.

“And if she was honest with herself—something she strived for, even if she lied to everyone else—”—Kiddo, are you sipping Zuko’s Kool-Aid?

“she knew. It would only grow to hate her. How could it not? She was a monster.”—This is very sad and makes my heart break for her, but…Azula. Babe. You love Ozai. And I’m damned sure that you would be a better parent than he was, so I can’t imagine why your kid wouldn’t love you? Kids also just don’t work that way. It takes a hell of a lot to make a kid stop loving their parent. I’m…honestly not sure if anyone ever really does STOP loving them, even when they know that their parent is an abusive and morally bankrupt person? Love isn’t rational, and even if you hate them, like Zuko does with Ozai, that hatred is still an intense feeling for them. Plus, just because Azula doesn’t love HERSELF doesn’t mean that other people, like Ty Lee and her kid, couldn’t love her. All that Azula’s self-hatred does is make her more inclined to push that love away, because being loved can sometimes be scarier and hurt more than being alone does.

Azula then has a cry under the moonlight—hi Yue, by the way, I always forget that the moon in the Avatar universe actually has a spirit attached to it—and then decides that she needs to go to town to get some food. Good plan, girl. Get all of the noodles. Also, Azula has this mean thought about the Earth Kingdom: “that meant a return to civilization. Or what passed for it, in the Earth Kingdom.” I hope by the end of this adventure that she learns that the EK isn’t inferior to the Fire Nation. It’s great to love your home, but don’t tear down other people’s (unless they’re unhappy with it, in which case, ask them if they want some help with the tear down and rebuilding).

Then we move on to Toph, Sokka, and Suki. Toph likes her pillows “rock-hard.” Never change, Toph. Sokka and Suki are arguing about whether Suki should have stayed with the Kyoshi Warriors and enlisted them in the search for Azula. When Toph complains about this, she makes a “think of the children” joke, to which Sokka replies that she’s sixteen, which suggests that age of majority in the ATLA world includes sixteen (though that might depend on the culture). Toph is also super bored because they haven’t had much luck on their manhunt for Azula, so she hasn’t gotten to fight Azula yet. Suki mentions that she should consider herself lucky, because she might have a broken nose or back spasms from chi-blocking and I’m like…Suki. Buddy. Isn’t it telling that the only damage your girls went through is something they might have walked away from a bar fight with? Or a particularly enthusiastic night above the bar?

Gosh, is Toph calling Azula a “crazy ass” ableist or overly blunt? Because Azula is mentally ill, and it’s not like this is a world where mental illness is well-understood. Let’s call this insensitive of Toph at the very least.

“She didn’t start when [Sokka] laid a solid hand on her arm. It was hardly the first time he’d done that over the past few days, and Toph was torn between appreciating the gesture—and that it meant he remembered she was cut off from her earthsense up here—and resenting him for babying her.”—I wouldn’t call touching your friend’s arm in support babying, Toph. I do like that Sokka isn’t such a manly man that he would hesitate to give comforting platonic touches.

“[ . . . ] Toph half-tempted to tear her own hair out by the roots just to relish the sweet, sweet pain”—I feel like someone should give Toph a really obnoxious instrument to pass the time on trips like these. I don’t know if Toph would be inclined to learn it and play it well, buuuuut I also don’t think that she would mind just using it to annoy the hell out of the other passengers. Mind you, terrible music might make the manhunt more difficult, but it’s not like Appa is a sneaky stealth plane anyway.

It turns out that Zuko sent them a letter, telling them to search the southern part of the continent, since he would wrap up things on Kyoshi Island. That was tone deaf of him, because of course Suki would want to see how her girls are doing and resents being ordered around. Sokka insisted that they press on with the search, though, because it’s “bigger than any one of us,” and for all they know, Azula might be trying to draw them to one location. Which…I get why this is a concern, but since we’ve seen Azula’s POV, we know that her endeavor has barely anything to do with the Gaang. This is a nuclear family drama, full stop.

We do learn here that Sokka and Suki have only been married for a few months. I wonder if there was any tongue-waggling about that back at the South Pole? In any case, Toph and Sokka are both worried about how sketchy Zuko has been lately and what he might have lied about. Toph points out that, “He might have left something out or told a half-truth. He might have been embarrassed, or nervous or afraid. The physical reaction is basically the same.” I hope that this ambiguity comes up later.

“And [Toph] was of the decided opinion that when her head hurt, everyone else’s should too.”—Oh Toph. I love you, but you’re a jerk sometimes.

“She jabbed a finger in what she thought was his general direction, and scowled when Sokka had to reposition her hand to keep the effect.”—That’s so freaking cute? Like damn these two are adorable! They continue to discuss how weird it is that Zuko told them to not believe anything that Azula says, because why would he think they would?

“[You’re] like Twinkletoes on a moral tangent”—More cuteness from these two, since Sokka cannot let Zuko’s weirdness go.

“this speculation is pointless until we find her anyway, and hear what she has to say. If she even /has/ anything to say, ‘cause by all reports”—meaning Zuko’s—“she’s been muter than a hermit these past four years!”—I’m glad that they seem eager to hear what Azula has to say, but knowing Azula, there is no way that she will tell them what happened. Not only is she ashamed about it, but she doesn’t think that they would believe her anyway. And she’d be right…if Zuko hadn’t undermined himself by tipping them off to something being up.

They continue on their flight, and we shift back to Azula. Ooooh, I remember what this section is! I love this section! So Azula has arrived in an Earth Kingdom town, after a night of trying to get her clothes clean and scavenging for more food. I wonder if the cabin she found was a reference to something in canon? Anyway, Azula probably draws some attention to herself by scowling at everyone, and then she steals some clothes so she doesn’t look completely out of place. She sets a building on fire and crashes a public bath to accomplish this. I feel like “Smooth Criminal” should be playing in the background.

Azula goes to look for food next and stops by a restaurant next to a courtyard labeled, “Master Yu’s Earthbending Academy.” Aaand she realizes that there’s a noblewoman staring at her—specifically, Poppy Beifong, Toph’s mom! Woot! Hey Poppy! Good to see you! I love that the flowers in her hair are present here as they were in canon.

Azula does note that Poppy has “slanted” eyes, which I’m not sure what to do with. This might be an innocent description and might not have the same racist connotation in the ATLA world as it does in ours, since everyone in the ATLA world could be considered of to be of Asian descent, given the cultures the four nations are based on. Or we could be meant to clock this as racist on Azula’s part, which, given how she was raised, wouldn’t be surprising. Or it’s a blink-and-you-miss-it writing fumble. It’s hard for me to make a call here, but I wanted to make a note of it in case it is the latter.

Moving on, Poppy thinks that Azula reminds her of someone—maybe Zuko? Azula has a cover story ready: she’s from the colonies and has heard of the Beifong’s involvement in trade. Poppy, bless her, invites Azula to have lunch with her, because her friend didn’t show up. I wonder if she really was meeting a friend there, or if the Earthbending Academy is a real academy space and students practice earthbending there? If so, maybe Poppy watches them earthbend to feel closer to Toph. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it!

“and I am quite alone,’ she explained, properly not counting the manservant and two maids who stood behind her as company.”—Properly? That classism! (Pats the nobles on their finely-combed heads.)

Poppy’s laugh sounds like glass breaking. Love that description. “Poppy Beifong would hardly be her first choice of dining companion. But then neither had King Bumi, who proved surprisingly amenable to letting her go, with only a little convincing.”—I still want that side story. Azula decides to take Poppy up on the meal, since she needs to eat when she can and she doesn’t think this is likely to be a trap.

Poppy immediately clocks that Azula is a noble and just…oh man, “we must forgive [my manservant’s] ignorance.” Bet you he has more common sense than Poppy! Poppy tells Azula to order whatever she likes, even though Poppy already has a ridiculous amount of food on the table. Reading about delicious food in a story at midnight is the worst, by the way. It’s making me want all of it, but there’s no place to get garnished fish and stuffed prawns from at this hour.

“when one has been born to privilege, it’s easy to recognize in others”—I feel like I need a side-story in which a grifter hits up the Beifong household while Toph is visiting, and Toph totally knows that the grifter is bullshitting and fleecing her parents, but is too entertained by the con to out them. In fact, maybe that grifter could by Lin’s dad, because that kind of irony would be delicious.

“The etiquette came easily to her when [Azula] bothered to recall it”—See, it’s not like Azula didn’t bother to learn this stuff. It’s just one tool in her arsenal, rather than a set of rules that she feels like she needs to follow.

Poppy recognizes Azula’s eyes as being a mark of Fire Nation nobility, though she adds that, “They are not the gold of Fire Nation royalty,” which…lol, actually, they are, since Azula is a royal. Poppy asks if Azula is trueborn or a bastard, and Azula tells the truth, knowing that the Earth Kingdom puts even more stock in lineage than the Fire Nation does.

Then we get this painful bit of questioning from Poppy: “But you must forgive me for observing that you are far from home, and seem to be without your attendants. [ . . . ] What has caused you to forsake the protection of your family?”—Oh Poppy, what if your family is the problem?

Azula pulls out a story that mixes in some lies to entice Poppy—that she’s fleeing an arranged marriage (since Poppy is a romantic)—with a good dose of truth. Poppy grabs Azula’s hand during this, which Azula is not a fan of. Azula says that her “betrothed” is a “fool and a brute” which…yeah, from her perspective, Zuko qualifies as both.

“If she was going to fabricate a life story, it would be better not to do it on an empty stomach.��—I love the forethought here. Also, if she needs to bolt, best to bolt down as much food as possible beforehand.

Poppy wonders if Azula is fleeing into the arms of a secret lover, a “governor’s son or lieutenant in the army.” I guess stableboys aren’t romantic enough for someone with Poppy’s classism.

“Having no experience of lovers, she didn’t trust herself to lie about an elopement”—This is so depressing. Too bad Chan didn’t work out, though I do think that Azula needs someone much smarter than him.

Azula admits that she’s looking for her mother, and explains that Ursa had to flee into exile or face execution for a crime that she was “falsely” accused of. We know that Ursa actually did it, but I doubt that Poppy would take that well. Azula says that her dad died of grief shortly afterwards. If only! She adds that her brother lost their fortune by being terrible at business and falling prey to duplicitous advisors, which foreshadows what’s the come with Zuko in the Fire Nation. Zuko really needs remedial lessons on how to run a country and manage the noble court. Azula adds that her “marriage” was supposed to help her family, something the dutiful Poppy would appreciate, but it didn’t work out because her supposed betrothed was violent.

Which triggers a flashback for Azula. She’s been getting hit with these at unexpected times, and while I’m not qualified to diagnose anyone, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a sign of Azula grappling with PTSD. We get this gross description during it: “Of his hands grasping, bruising, his weight heavy on her, suffocating. Of his arm around her waist, fingers clenched in her hand. The ridges of his scar rubbed against her cheek when he thrusted and panted, filling her. He didn’t stop even when she forgot herself and screamed, when she started to bleed from the violence of his effort—”

That is not a description that indicates an act of passion or pleasure on Azula’s part. She views it as an assault, and no one should be questioning her on it.

Azula is so caught up in the memory that she loses her situational awareness, not noticing that Poppy has gotten up to go to her until Poppy touches her wrists (the sensation probably being what brings Azula back to the present, since it grounds her). Poppy almost strokes Azula’s hair to sooth her, which I’m sure Azula would not have known what to do with, since Ursa didn’t give her those maternal touches when she was around. Poppy says that her mother wouldn’t blame her for leaving a man like that, to which Azula bitterly laughs, because Ursa has never been understanding towards Azula before. I do think that Ursa would understand wanting to leave an abusive partner, considering Ozai…but whether she would have actually done it without any external pressure, or supported someone else doing it, is fuzzier. Duty in this case isn’t the death of love so much as self-preservation.

Poppy wonders if Azula’s rueful reaction means that she’s met Toph, and is judging Poppy based on what Toph has told her. “That was either amazing ignorance or amazing egotism.”—What a line! Poppy’s assumption is off the mark, but Azula confirms that she’s met Toph in passing. I do hope those two will be friends someday, but if not, there’s always “Salt and Ashes.”

Poppy starts to talk about Toph, while pushing food around her plate, “a nervous habit that spoke of weakness.” Ozai must have broken Azula of that habit, or at least scolded Zuko for it. Poppy and her husband tried to have more children after Toph, but from the sound of it, there were problems with miscarriages, stillbirths, and the babies dying soon after they were born. There’s nothing to indicate what might have been causing that, so we’re going to have to chalk it up to bad luck. Azula is sensitive to this turn in conversation, given her own pregnancy and her worries about the fetus dying or being deformed.

We get this touching line: “A smile broke over her tear-streaked face then, bittersweet and more genuine than any she had yet shown” as Poppy describes how instead of a daughter she could treat like a doll, she got a strong earthbender, who lived and thrived, unlike her late siblings. But since Toph was also born blind, her parents focused on that for too long, trying to shelter her and keep her safe, rather than respecting Toph’s agency and strength. Which, naturally, Toph didn’t respond well to. Toph and her parents are still estranged, due to a fight Toph and her dad had during her last visit, and Poppy is worried that they’ll never reconcile with their daughter.

Azula finds all of this hard to stomach, both figuratively and literally. She tells Poppy that she should be telling all of this to Toph instead, and then mentally berates herself for it, because this might backfire on her if Poppy mentions that she had lunch with someone matching Azula’s description. “This was like something Zuko would do,” she scolds herself, even though I’m not sure that Zuko would do this, since it’s Azula’s own estrangement from her mother that subconsciously prompts this. While Poppy makes an excuse that Toph is hard to track down, Azula bolts to the nearest pot and throws up in it. Darn that morning sickness! She also starts crying, due to hormones and to the unpleasantness of the situation. One of Poppy’s servants takes off her belt, which helps relieve some of the pressure on her stomach, and Poppy—who instantly realizes Azula’s condition—tells Azula that she should have run sooner. Again, if only!

Azula does think that she’ll kill her brother for this, but I don’t think that she really means it, any more than anyone pregnant says that about the one who impregnated them.

Poppy offers to do what she can to help Azula find her mother, and we shift over to a Zuko scene. Zuko’s crew caught the Dai Li agent, but the Dai Li agent escaped because he’s a metalbender. Bad luck, that. Apparently Zuko thought it was more honorable to let him live after he surrendered, which…(sigh) I do agree with. June points out that the rules of war don’t apply to a witch hunt, to which I also have to agree. While following the rules of war/the civil contract is what you SHOULD be doing, what do you do when your opponent refuses to play by those rules? Especially when the life of your loved one is on the line BECAUSE your opponent betrayed the rule of law to convict her and sentence her to death? The context here matters.

Zuko tells his crew and Ty Lee to proceed back to the Fire Nation. He and June are going to round up the Dai Li agent themselves. When that happens, June is almost certainly going to kill him. Which, as I’ve said earlier in this review, is the safest thing for Zuko to do, since letting the Dai Li agent contact his superiors would mean that his secret is out, and his family will be in serious danger once it leaks. June also suggests that Zuko needs to become a harder man to survive in their new, dangerous world, and I just have to roll my eyes, because it’s such edgelordy drivel that makes perfect sense coming from her. I don’t know that Zuko needs to be harder—in fact, I think the result of that would be a bunch of unnecessary violence and property damage—but he does need to start being smarter.

Back to Azula! Azula might not be fond of Poppy on a personal level, but she does appreciate Poppy honoring her word and making sure that Azula is supplied for her journey. We’ve got practical clothes for all temperatures (with an adjustable waistline!), rations, and what amounts to an adventurer’s pack. Azula notes that there’s a scented product in her supplies that smells similar to the abortifacient tea she used when she was…11 or 12, pretty sure…so it makes her feel sick when she smells it. Mint tea has the same effect on her. I called it—she has an aversion response now. I’d say darn you evolution, but it is useful for not ingesting substances that have made you sick in the past and could be poisonous.

Azula notes that, given how the townspeople behave when confronted with Poppy and her retinue, the Beifongs are practically royalty in this area. I do have to wonder just how many monarchs are on the continent, since we know of at least two, but presumably there could be more, given the size of the Earth Kingdom.

We also get this: “Azula had to wonder how such a wealthy and influential family had produced someone so loud and coarse as Toph Beifong. But then she would remember the looks Ursa gave her when she insisted on wearing pants instead of dresses, gentle remonstrations spoken from behind pinched brows and wrinkled nose, when Azula would rather practice katas than heat tea with her firebending. And she didn’t have to wonder anymore. Rejection could take many forms, after all. She should know that better than anyone.”—This is really sad and makes me wish that Toph and Azula could become friends and discuss this. Both of them have rejected gender norms and the expectations of their mothers, and while they have found fulfillment in doing so, that disappointment from Ursa and Poppy is still painful for them.

Poppy also gives Azula an expensive ostrich horse bred for racing, which will draw attention to her. Azula tries to make it look scruffier by getting it dirty and messing with its feathers, but she’s not satisfied that she’s done a good enough job of it, and thinks that she wants to trade it for something practical like an eel hound.

“The desert dwellers were known to traffic in exotic beasts”—I don’t remember if we actually see any of the sandbenders in this story—I’m thinking not—but I know that at one point, Aurelia was considering an encounter between them and Azula.

Azula requested a map that led in a different direction than where she’s interested in, in case someone asks after her purchases. She also, when she decides to rest for the night, takes out the passport Poppy gave her and Poppy’s scroll to Toph. Poppy sent a couple more copies out, so if anything happens to this one, Toph will still get her mother’s message eventually.

“The princess had nodded curtly, half-tempted to reduce Toph’s mother to ashes for the possibility that this peace offering might sic Zuko on her.”—Again, Azula is all bark and no bite, unlike Ozai, who probably would have burnt Poppy for “imposing” on him.

Azula decides to read the scroll to see if it mentions her. She discovers that it does not, but it is—we can imply—full of Poppy’s love for Toph and remorse for how she treated her. It’s exactly what Azula desperately wants from Ursa. Azula, upset by this, burns the letter and curls up to try to sleep, even though the sun is rising and there’s “an ache in a part of her body she didn’t give a thought to otherwise.” In other words, she’s heartbroken by being confronted with something she doesn’t believe that she’ll ever have.

And with that, we close out chapter fourteen! Thank you again for the read, Aurelia! And thank you to everyone who has been expressing interest in these reviews. Hopefully I’ll have another one to you within the next week.

Sincerely,

WiseAbsol

#Dominion by Aurelia le #Azula #Fanfiction #avatar: the last airbender #Review #WiseAbsol

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thepenpalhub · 4 years

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Howdy, Y'all! So this is bound to be a super long post, one because I am super excited to find some more penpals, and two because I can’t ever do anything half way! So to sum up some of it I’m a seventeen year old ADHD Legal Studies college senior in Arkansas with a background in Political Science (USA) addicted to coffee looking for some penpals!

I’m currently sitting under the sunrise daydreaming up some new plots for a couple of stories I'm probably going to end up starting. In the process, I obviously started wondering deeper into the cosmos and questioning everything about life, for example, with the way 2020 is going, what's the probability of the zombie apocalypse breaking out? This pondering has lead me here, searching for some friends that hold the intellectual capability to have a serious not serious conversation, because in my opinion penpals and snail mailers are some of the greatest friends yet!

My name is Allison, though I’ve got a whole slew of nicknames that you could pick from if Allison is too much of a hassle ;D! Allie, Elle, and Allis being a few of them!

I’m your normal run-of-the-mill College student, besides the fact that I’m a college senior at seventeen and I graduated high school at thirteen! I’m studying Law, though I have a degree in political science as well! For reference, I will be turning eighteen within a month.

My goals in life include bringing light to the corruption and corrupted in politics and government, helping as many people as possible to better their lives and improve their state of living, and being as much happiness and joy to the world as I reasonably can! My career goals include achieving all the above through politics, public speaking, corporate ventures, and government!

So yeah, I’m a pretty ambitious gal, to the point that some people have claimed I’m overbearing and too interested in myself! While I might come across as overbearing or self-interested, I’m one of the most selfless people I know, and on top of that, I try to be as self-aware as possible so that I can continue to emotionally, intellectually, mentally, and physically improve myself! One of my motos in life is “to know where you're going you must first know where you’ve been”! Plus... I’ve just got a really really big personality!!

Let’s see, I am a Sagittarius, ENFP-t, and enneagram of 8! I am also a Slytherin! In my professional life, I like to compare myself to a much nicer version of Katerina Petrova… or Clarke Griffin (if you ignore the manipulative and kinda bitchy part of both… sometimes)! Though in my private life I tend to take on more of a child-like nature, in the sense of being cheerful, energetic, always curious, and kinda oblivious in certain situations! I do tend to be a bit bratty, blunt, and bossy though!

Moral of the story, you can probably expect some rambling and super cute designs slash miscellaneous things in your letter if we go the snail mail route!

I kinda have some pretty diverse and interesting taste when it comes to things I enjoy! I like to think I have the interests of an elderly person and personality of a child, but you can be the judge of that!

* I love politics, linguistics, diplomacy, history, stock markets, real estate, law, and philosophy!

* Hiking and swimming are probably two of my favorite outdoorsy activities!

* I adore the gun range, it is probably one of my favorite places to go (after malls and libraries)! Very American of me.... I know 😀

* Beekeeping is something I’ve been doing since I was a child, I currently have over four-thousand hives!

* Reading, writing, and painting are also some of my favorite things to do!

I’m a painter, who absolutely loves bright colors (I.e pink and yellow)! I don’t particularly have a favorite music genre, from rock to country and pop to opera/classical I’ll listen to anything (it all depends on mood)!

I like to consider myself the reigning queen of over-energetic happy-go-lucky bubbly people! *Bow down peasants!* Some people have claimed I’ve got major crackhead energy, without the crack! I just blame it on my caffeine addiction paired with really really bad ADHD!

I’m a bit of a girly girl, with a love for the preppy look, and a love for hair bows and leather jackets! I love dancing in the rain, going to parks, blowing bubbles, watching Disney, playing make-believe or whatever, and acting like I’m high on sugar 9/10! I mentioned I had a childish personality, though as I said, some people find it overwhelming!

I love reading and writing (both originals and fanfics... yeah I’m a groupie when it comes to tv/movie/book fanfics)! Currently, I’ve been really invested in fiction works, I’m nearly finished with the CL Stone Academy Ghostbird series (It's a reverse harem for those that don't know, I highly suggest it), which I started last week! Though I obviously have been keeping up with my lovely textbook readings and such (seeing as this week is Midterms and all)!

Oh!! I almost forgot I know three languages (not including English)! Spanish, French, and Russian! Though I’ve never had anyone to use the languages with, and I’m still in the process of learning Russian!

Side note, I'm a full-time college student that has multiple entrepreneurial businesses that I run, so I'm fairly busy! But I'm also super chatty and talkative, so there's that!

As for what I’m looking for! I’d love a best friend, someone that can put up with my amazingly hectic self, while also being able to hole and intelligent conversation.

I’m cool with an email pen-pal, a messaging pen-pal, or a snail mail pen-pal! Admittedly I’m currently in a crafty mood, specifically because the holidays, so snail mailing is probably at the top of my list at the moment! I just moved to a new location, which has been a blast, mountain people are so super sweet (coming from someone who grew up in the city) and I’ve officially managed to get my address and everything squared away! So that should be spectacular!

Age and gender identification don’t really matter to me, though I do connect with people older than myself a tad bit easier because my interests normally don’t line up with my peers! Similarly, people who have life goals, ambitions, and/or self-aware people are a serious weakness of mine, what can I say, I'm a sapiosexual, both in regards to romantic relationships and friendships, the brain is the most beautiful part of the human. Similarly in that fashion, I am also demisexual and pansexual.

I'm looking for something long-term, whenever I start something I pour 100% into it, and I expect 100% back! My time is a delicate thing, and even though I'm ridiculously busy I love sharing it with others! I would also be interested in exchanging photos early on with people that pique my interest, both for verification purposes, and because I prefer to put a face to a name. Similarly, your location does not particularly matter, domestic or international pen pals are welcome! I would love to be able to put some of my languages to use, however, but all cultures are welcome!

Anyways! I’d love to get to know you, so please shoot me a message and we’ll see where it stands and where we land! I’ll try to respond to all messages, but I can’t stand small talk, so if you just send a “hey” with no context or a few other words like “hyd” I probably won’t respond (and imma blame it on my Adhd)! I mean.... I did mention I love long messages!!

Can’t wait to hear from y’all!

And I hope everyone has a spectacular day and night!!

My email is [email protected] for anyone who wants to reach out there! Or you could just message me on Tumblr!!

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 4)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for waiting during my little hiatus from writing this fic. I have been absolutely swamped with the end of program madness, but I am hoping I have now turned a corner and that I can do some writing more regularly. I miss getting to write these fluffy fics when the real world calls, but I am happy to report my muse got chatty again, and with a brief window of time I managed to write this next chapter of ‘When We Collide.’ We find Emma and Killian still en route to their new life, and there’s not a ton of action (which is coming later on), but some conversations need to be had for sure. Not to fear, nothing too too angsty in this chapter, and hopefully the surrounding cuteness is appreciated by all. Thanks so much for reading and hope you all enjoy!

No one ever felt so good in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska.

Not to say that people didn’t have happy lives in this state, or that there weren’t parts of this place that held beauty and meaning and excitement, but it was a commonly known fact when taking a cross country trek that Nebraska was a seemingly endless, barren span of driving. There were no trees, no hills, no real sights to see. It was just two lanes of highway going one way and two lanes of road on the other side. Occasionally there were billboards, and those made for a laugh. Some were more expected, reading ‘Gas Ahead!’ or ‘Next Exit 82 Miles,’ but others were a wild contradiction. Everything out here was either about Jesus or sex shops and that was not an exaggeration. Nearly every billboard they passed warned about the dangers of the devil or openly bragged about having the best stash of adult toys in the Midwest. It was absolute craziness, and in the meantime, there was just nothing out here at all. Just scraggly, heat ridden crops, miles of empty fields, and a horizon that stretched on for what felt like forever.

Yet while many people may not like the nothingness, Killian and Emma were of a very different mind. Sure, it had been a long few days of riding, but for Killian that meant having Emma curled up against him for hours on end. It felt damn good to have her holding him tight as they headed down the highway, and when they stopped to stretch their legs or use the facilities, they’d fallen into a pattern of shifting over the reins. In the downtime and when they wanted to get off the main road, Killian was showing Emma more about his bike, letting her get a feel for the machine and showing her how to captain it herself.

It was questionable how legal this was, of course. Emma had no license, but some of these states further out west didn’t pay any mind to that. Besides, there were no lawmen out anywhere. In their five hours of driving today they’d passed nothing and nobody but 18 wheelers making the trip from one coast to another. As such, Killian didn’t have much fear in letting Emma really ride, and it had only taken about an hour to learn the truth: his Swan was a natural and also a speed demon.

“I can’t get over how awesome this is,” Emma said, pulling off her helmet and shaking out her hair in a way designed to distract and entice any man. Even with a backdrop of nothingness, on a deserted road off highway where he’d let her spread her wings, Emma was stunning. Tie that in with the red leather jacket she’d been wearing all trip, her dark wash jeans, and the boots he knew she needed for the road, and he was done for.

They were only an hour or so from their next stop, a quaint, but fully fortified home in the city (a generous word given how small the place was) of North Platt, but Killian was in no rush. How could he be when Emma’s eyes were radiating the excitement of the moment, and her hair, despite just being in her helmet seemed windswept and wild. She was bloody gorgeous in all ways, but in the throws of something that thrilled her, she was entirely too much for his heart to handle.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled her flush against him for a searing kiss and he loved the way she leaned into it and seemed just as ravenous as he was. Instantly the rush of excitement Emma was feeling on the bike was channeled into their embrace, and Killian groaned at the contact. Her hips arched against him as her hands pulled him close. She nipped and licked and tasted him with the same feverish need that he had for her and it hiked his desperation to hold her close and sate the rising need between them. She was driving him mad, tempting him in ways nothing ever had before. He had half a mind to fuck her out here on the bike. The thought of it pulled a growl low from his chest, but the voice in the back of his head told him no. This wasn’t right. Not out here. Deserted as it was, cars were still passing and someone could see, and he’d never risk that with someone so precious as Emma. Instead he had to calm down and pull away, and when they drew back, her face was kissed with pink, not just from the ride, but from his attentions. The lust between them clung as hard to her as it did to him. Her green eyes were dark now, her breathing labored, and she wet her lips absentmindedly, causing a tug in his gut that wanted him to say fuck the rest of the world and take her here.

“I’m definitely adding a bike to my list of things to get,” she said breathily, her mouth curving up into a knowing grin. She was fully aware of how worked up he was now, and she shifted ever so slightly against him, rubbing up against his hard length barely contained by these damn tight pants. “I need more of that in my life.”

“Consider it done, love,” he said, his voice so gruff it was unrecognizable. “When we finally get home, you choose the make and it’s yours.”

“You don’t have to do that, Killian,” Emma said, suddenly more serious, like it had never dawned on her that he would gift her such a thing. “A bike is a big deal, and I’m perfectly capable of buying my own. I’ll just find a job and save for a while. I’ve done it before.”

“Aye, love, there’s no doubt you have and that you can. You can do anything you set your brilliant mind to,” he agreed, taking the hand that was placed against his heart and kissing it tenderly. He watched her swallow harshly but her eyes never left his face as she took him in with full consideration. “If it means a lot to you that you do it on your own, so be it. I will never stand in the way of what you wish. I only meant that you’re not on your own any more Emma, and I need – no, damn it, I want - to take care of you, as much as you’ll let me.”

A soft and understanding smile tugged at Emma’s lips once more that warmed into a true smirk as she quietly thought to herself. He bit his tongue, barely refraining from asking what exactly she was thinking, but he didn’t want to overpower her. He may have the urge to share absolutely everything with Emma, and to care for her, provide for her, and protect her all the days of his life, but he would not crowd her. He couldn’t bear to pressure her or make her feel suffocated. This wasn’t about taking control from her for his own gain, it was just… well he couldn’t really explain. He was just so damn protective and so desirous to make sure she had everything she wanted and more. And it only felt fair to that part of himself, for she was truly the master of their fates, holding his heart and hopes in her delicate hands.

“Someday I’m going to really push you,” she said and his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m going to push you past the perfect gentleman you always tend to be.”

“I’m just trying to be what you deserve, love,” he said, his voice betraying his concern at her characterization. Did she think he was faking with her? He wasn’t, he was just trying not to fuck everything up before it could really take flight.

“I know,” she agreed, running her fingers along his brow and pushing back the hair that was growing longer each day and starting to fall across his face. The lightness of her touch made sparks fly under his skin. The fondness in her voice swept away his fears, and left only her truth in its wake. “And I love that, I really do. It means the world to me how much you care. But I’m dying to see what happens when you just let go. When you follow your instincts, those baser ones, the ones that run just a shade or two darker than this.”

Her words were an invitation that a part of him craved. She was right after all, he did want more. He wanted to claim her and be so intertwined that he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He hated any kind of boundary between them, craved every moment that he held her close, and he wanted to give her everything she could ever want. In is ideal world, Emma did only what she loved and what she wanted, and as flashes of what that might look like came to mind he felt a yearning for more. Marriage, babies, a family. A whole long and lovely life where he was her man and she was his everything.

“We’ll get there,” she said, pulling him back from his thoughts and kissing him gently again. “Every day we get closer, you know?”

He could only nod and assure her that he knew exactly what she meant. As they came back on the bike with him once again driving, he allowed those thoughts to linger. Things were so good between them right now, so much more than he’d ever imagined. Every day they had only further cemented the bond between them, and the journey out here had been amazing even if they were on the run.

Well, technically they weren’t really ‘running’, for there was no one with the ability to chase them. Killian had been assured that the Crocodile and his strongest fixers were all in custody, and he’d told Emma as much a few days prior. Some of that information had been disclosed by untraceable messages from Will, but there were also numerous stories in the press. Even in the far reaches of Nebraska nothingness, the Crocodile’s capture had made the papers. He was one of the most wanted man in the country and right now he was in jail, rotting in a cell, despite his army of crooked cops purchased to keep him free. He was no doubt furious at this unexpected downfall, but none the wiser of their actions. Everyone not arrested in the organization had since dispersed, all of the higher ups in Gold’s command and business had gone to ground and Will promised that their case was solid and now even stronger in the face of Gold’s takedown. The bust was clean and they had at least a little while where the monster would be held captive without even a chance of bond or bail or trial.

Only with that confidence that no one suspected what he’d done and that Gold was very much occupied could Killian breathe easy, and even then it was only because of Emma. She always brought him strength, even when she didn’t realize all the parts at play. That peace was one of the most beautiful gifts she gave him, and it carried through not just the rest of their ride, but also through their arrival at the safe house, their making some dinner, and then falling into bed together. Hours passed, and in all that time Killian felt nothing short of elation. He was complete, with this beautiful woman here in his arms, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever gotten this lucky. Loving her and having her love in return was the honor of his life, no question about it.

There was only one thing that Killian felt weighing on him right now, and it was one last truth he had to tell before they got back home. He wouldn’t call this revelation a secret per se, because it wasn’t, not really. It was more an oversight in his disclosures to Emma. The truth about where they were going and the life that awaited them had not been fully explained, and though he’d been putting off that conversation for a few days, he finally felt like it might be time to go there. As if she could tell he had something on his mind, Emma glanced over her bare shoulder to him and smiled, looking like a goddess fallen to this world just for him. He worried about dulling that smile, but in his heart he knew she’d accept this. He just had to man up and tell her already.

“Take a walk with me, love,” he pleaded and she blinked up at him from where she lay in this bed, her jade eyes cloudy with lust and confusion. She no doubt believed they were in for the night, and he had too when he drew her in here to ravish her fully, but he had a sudden urge for a change of scene. What he wanted to tell her demanded something different, and he had an idea of how to cushion this could-be blow.

“Now?” she asked.

“Aye, Swan,” he chuckled. “I’ve something to tell you.”

“Say no more,” Emma said, pushing up and jumping out of bed. His body tightened at the sight of her creamy skin and her beautiful body, but he couldn’t get sidetracked. There was time for that later, for now he too had to throw something on and head out to this moment he’d been avoiding for some time.

A few minutes later they were out in the grounds of the property, further away from the house they were staying in, and nowhere near any kind of neighbors. Frogs croaked out their evening tune as the gentle hum of insects sounded out in the night. A subtle breeze washed over the overgrown grasses out front, but here, behind the home was a well worn patch of land that was soft and stable. They naturally found a place to sit, and lay out, neither of them afraid to be directly on the ground. Out here, under the big black sky dotted with stars so very far away, it felt the opposite of New York, and, Killian supposed, it was as good a place as any to tell Emma the whole truth.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, Killian,” Emma said, squeezing his hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know, love. I know. It’s just… hard to know where to begin exactly.”

“Well, who is it about?”

“My brothers,” Killian said and Emma nodded in recollection.

“Liam… who we’re heading to now. Wait, you said brothers? Like more than one?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, I’ve more than one. Liam is my only biological brother, my only living kin. But the others, well there were eight at last count. Could be more by now.”

“Eight?” she squeaked, followed closely by the question, “And wait, there could be more? What does that even mean?”

“They’re my club brothers, Emma.”

“Club brothers,” she replied, still not following. “What club?”

“Emma, I…” he trailed off but then just put it out there, though perhaps not in the clearest way. “I’m a patched in member of the Land Pirates, Big Sur.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, truly apologetic for her continued lack of understanding. “I’m not getting this. Should I know these… Land Pirates?”

“It’s an MC. A motorcycle club.” Finally some sort of recognition crossed her features, and just as he’d worried there was concern written all over her face.

“Please tell me motorcycle ‘club’ is different from motorcycle ‘gang,’” Emma begged after a few moments of taking in his words. “I meant what I said, Killian, I’m with you all the way, but if we’re just going from one gang to another I -,”

“It’s definitely different,” he assured her, pulling her into his arms. “My brothers aren’t involved in anything illegal. At least not professionally. I can’t speak to the past or what happens when things get dodgy, but that’s hardly the norm. The club owns a number of businesses in our small town and the ones around them. It was different when my Dad was leading, but Liam changed all that.”

Killian proceeded to fill Emma in on the whole truth, about how he’d been born into his father’s world but how his mother took him and Liam away when they were small. They moved back to her country for a while, for it took an ocean apart for Meera Jones to feel free of her husband. Much of his life across the pond was something that Emma knew about. In their times together preciously, he’d shared countless memories of his life with his Mum with her. What Emma didn’t realize was that their mother’s death, which came when he was ten, pushed him and Liam back to his father once more. There were no other relatives to take them, and so they’d been shipped back to America and were raised in the club, seeing a far less ethical life than the one Liam was now trying to make.

In its heyday, or as Killian considered it the darkest times, the Land Pirates ran anything and everything to make a buck. Guns, drugs, women. It was just as bad as Gold’s work but without the same rate of success or the appearance of grandeur. His father was an adrenaline junky, addicted to danger, money, women and booze. All of it was constantly present, and only when Liam and Killian enlisted did either of them get free of it. The military became a lifeline for them both, to leave that life behind. War was preferable to the moral corruption that resided in the MC.

“It sounds truly horrible,” Emma affirmed when he’d told her this, and he knew she understood the gravity of his statement. He’d also confessed how his time in the service had been brutal, so to say he preferred that to life before painted a bleak picture to be sure. “But I don’t understand. If that was what this club stood for, if it was as bad as it sounds, then why would you, uh what was the term, patch in?”

“Aye,” he said, impressed that she recalled that small phrase in the midst of much larger revelations. “My father died some years back, and the club pretty much crumbled in his absence. We were glad for that, at least I was. The Jones men had done enough damage. The world was better off without our whole bloody mess. But my father’s demise didn’t come without consequences. The club’s absence left a hole for others to try and come in. Other crews saw the money to be made in our part of the world and they pounced on the chance, and these men were just as malicious as Brennan but with even better follow through. Before long, the rest of the town was being taken over. People with no ties to the club were put in danger and told they needed to submit or give up the homes they’d known. Liam saw that and couldn’t stand for it. So he made a choice. He took over as Pres and rebuilt from the ashes.”

“I can’t imagine that was easy.”

It wasn’t. The fighting had been rough, and Killian and Liam, as well as the other men Liam had recruited had not been on the right side of the law even if they were preserving true justice. He wouldn’t burden Emma with the details unless she asked, but she seemed to take his agreement as enough, pivoting to another thought instead of lingering in the past.

“You make it all sound so…” He held his breath, afraid of what she would say. “Honorable.”

“My brother would be proud to hear you say that, love. He’s a man driven by honor at all times and in all ways. He would never feel peace unless we did something to mend the scars of Brennan’s time here.”

“It must have been hard to live in the shadow of your father’s misdeeds,” Emma said, running her hands along his arm. “For both of you.”

“Aye,” he agreed, not bothering to deny that. “But of the two of us Liam has always been the better man.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Emma said vehemently.

“You should,” Killian said, not trying to be down on himself, but stating a fact he’d truly believed his whole life.

“I won’t,” she countered and in spite of himself Killian laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple as he kept a hold on her. They lay together breathing each other in for some time, before Emma posed a question they’d always danced around but never explicitly broached. “So if the club is better now, why did you leave them? Why not stay with your family and help them make good?”

“You mean why in the world was I wrapped up with Gold in New York?” She nodded. “It’s simple really. Liam’s route to peace was in facing the demons of our father, but I was much more tied to scars of a different kind. You see, Gold stole from me well before I made it to New York. He killed the only woman I ever loved.” Emma looked up at him, shocked and saddened for his pain as he clarified. “My mother.”

“Oh Killian,” she said hugging him close, and though he expected her to ask for all the details of his mother’s death, she didn’t. She just held him, running her hands along his body with affection and support.

It brought tears to his eyes, to have a woman who accepted him this way. Who had heard so much, but was still beside him. Her patience was a sign of her strength and her trust, and whether she knew it or not she was healing him and his scars more than anything else ever could. He knew he’d come to tell her the whole story of his Mum someday, and soon, but the fact that he didn’t have to do so right now meant the world. Disclosing the sins of his father was enough for one night. The terrible tale of losing his mother could wait.

He couldn’t be exactly sure how long they remained out there, taking in the deep night sky as they quietly remained together. All Killian knew was that Emma stayed pressed against him, holding tight and centering him with the sound of her soft breathing and the steady beat of her heart. It beat out in time with his, a gentle rhythm despite the pain of both their pasts. How he had ever lived without this he did not know, but he knew he’d never see another day without her. Because no matter what came next, he was hell bent on staying with his Swan, building their life together and making new memories that healed any and all darkness from the past.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just another little glimpse into this journey out west. I am enjoying these kind of glimpses into Emma and Killian, and next chapter will bring a final trip moment that will mean a lot for our story. After that we get to see Emma meet Killian’s brothers and that should be fun too. Anyway, thanks to all of you for reading and I would love to hear what you think! Sending you all my best and hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

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anotheronechicagobog · 5 years

Text

Mouse Gerwitz x reader Letters

written by @anotheronechicagobog

Requested by @confusedpimp

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, implied smut

A/N: I’m asexual and terrible at writing kissing scenes, so sorry if that part sucks. I’ve been sick, had school stuff going on, and had some writer’s block, so I really hope you like it!

(Not my gif)

When you first met Mouse you were sixteen, he, Jay, and Will were all back from being away. Jay was on his first leave from the Rangers and Will was back from Uni for winter break. After spending the full day with you and Will Jay decided to hangout with Mouse. You threw a fit over that, you’d spent over a year terrified that he’d come back in a body bag and that you deserved to spend the few weeks he was there with him. So instead he invited Mouse to hang out the three of you instead. He was handsome, funny, and a Harry Potter fan so you didn’t mind at all. The three of you went down to the boardwalk and just spent time together, talking, going to the river museum which wasn’t your thing in all honesty but it was more about being together than anything else, and ended the day with deep-dish pizzas at home and a movie marathon. It was when your dad came home drunk off his ass that the mood changed. Jay and Will suddenly remembered what they left you home with, and Mouse was sitting there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. You sent an apologetic smile his way and stood up. “Hey, dad, it’s time for bed. C’mon, I’ll sing to you again.” Your brothers exchanged shocked and horrified looks as they say you leading your very drunk, very handsy father, up the stairs quickly and efficiently. You’d learned how to handle yourself when your brothers were gone.

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When you returned downstairs you heard furious voices in the kitchen. You turned to Mouse who was sitting on the couch with wide-eyes. “I’m really sorry you had to watch that Mouse. You look really uncomfortable, can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Uh... How often does that happen?”

“Why?” Mouse looked at you with guarded eyes. You were confused, Mouse sounded concerned and he didn’t really have any reason to be. Jay was your brother, not Mouse. “What do you mean ‘why’? That shouldn’t be happening to you.”

“Mouse, I only met you this morning so I’m a little surprised at your reaction.”

“Jay’s been showing me and the others pictures of you and sharing stories since basic training, he talks about you all the time, he’s so protective of you, it’s kinda rubbed off on the rest of us.” You nodded slowly, processing his answer. “Look, I get that my brother and his overprotective ways influenced you, but I can handle myself.” Mouse didn’t look convinced.

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After Mouse left you walked into the kitchen and jumped up onto the counter. The mood was thick and tense and you dreaded the conversation that was coming. “Alright, let’s get this conversation over with.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Jay huffed angrily and threw the dishtowel into the empty but still soapy sink. Will threw the remaining cutlery in the drawer and slammed it shut. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to put your lives on hold. You two basically raised me, you’ve sacrificed enough. Yes, he’s been drinking more, yes he’s gotten handsy, but I can handle myself I promise.” Jay screwed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists. “You should have told us.We’re supposed to take care of you.”

“And what could you have done Will? Jay’s been in the middle east fighting a war, and you’ve been in med school in Seattle. You’ve tried to get custody of me before and it fell through, we just have to face it, this is the situation for now. It sucks but its doable.”

“Are you kidding me?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! Y/N, we are your big brothers, it’s our responsibility to help and protect you! You need to tell us when stuff like this starts, so that we can deal with whatever shit’s going on!” You sighed and watched Jay catch his breath.

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The rest of the boys’ stay was tense. They walked you to and from school, Mouse and some others in Jay’s unit were coming over to stay with you when your brothers couldn’t (including ‘introducing’ themselves to your father), and you were never left alone with your father. You were annoyed at all that your brother was orchestrating, but you were also low-key relieved you didn’t feel the need to barricade your door at night. Two days before Jay and Mouse were scheduled to head back you were introduced to Mouse’s family. His parents were wonderful and Katie was so freaking adorable. You’d all decided to go out to dinner to an Irish restaurant. Right before the Celtic band was set to play Mouse’s mom pulled you aside. “Sweetheart, Greg told us about your dad. We just want you to know that you’re always welcome with our family and at our home. Just call and we’ll be there as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

When you both sat back down Mouse’s eyes caught yours and he smiled sheepishly. You smiled in return, feeling grateful about your overprotective brothers

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TWO YEARS LATER

You cheered silently as you skipped down the steps of your childhood home. You had all your possessions in your backpack and a small suitcase. You were finally eighteen, legally able to walk away without being dragged back. Greg’s family invited you to stay with them until you started university in the fall. They’d been a godsend over the years, to the point where you started sending letters to Mouse as well as Jay. While your brother initially thought it was weird but stopped complaining when Katie mailed him a picture of flowers she drew. Your relationship with Mouse grew.you swapped stories, created inside jokes, and confided in one another. For the next few months, you were going to be living in his old bedroom. It looked like how he left it.

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You sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room you’d called home for the past few months. You were excited but apprehensive about starting university. Not just because of the daunting aura of university, but because of the financial aspects. You’d started applying for scholarships and bursaries before your application was even accepted. While you’d been awarded a decent amount of money, it wasn’t anywhere close to covering one semester, forget the rest of your academic career. So you’d turned to something your brothers would murder you for if they ever found out- being a stripper and a sugar baby.

In all honesty, it hadn’t been as bad as you’d expected. You’d found a website where you could... advertise yourself. You’d posted some nice photos of yourself, selfies where you’re smiling in a park and the boardwalk, and made it clear on your profile that sex was NOT on the table. It had taken you a while to find a sugar daddy, for that reason, but you’d found one and your... allowance was pretty good. You’d been contacted by a guy in his late 30’s who was gay and came from a very conservative family who expected a serious girlfriend. He wasn’t ready to come out, terrified of the backlash and possible violence he’d receive from his family, he decided to go another route. So while everyone thought you were moving into an apartment you were really moving in with your sugar daddy.

You’d have your own room, and were free to use any room in his apartment except for his ensuite bedroom and office. The same applied to him, he wasn’t allowed in your room either. He’d been nervous about the arrangement, much like yourself, and had offered to assist you in decorating your room, a kind offer you’d decided to accept to try and form a friendship with him. You’d need to be a convincing companion, after all.

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ONE YEAR LATER

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl who put Van Gogh posters up in my room.”

“Mouse! It’s good to see you. You’re on leave with Jay, then? Also, who doesn’t like Starry Night?” You’d gone with Jay to hang out at a bar with him and some guys from his unit, Jay had gone off with a pretty blonde twenty minutes ago and hadn’t returned. Mouse smiled and took another swig of his beer. He sat down across from you, where Jay had been sitting and folded his hands together on top of the table. His arms were even more muscular than the last time you’d seen him. His shoulders were broader, he had a tan, and his eyes looked sharper. “So who’s the lucky guy? Everyone’s been writing that you’re seeing someone, and I know you, you don’t buy jewellery for yourself. Yet here you are, with a lovely necklace, dainty rings and bracelets. C’mon, spill.” Mouse looked tense, and his hands were clenched, almost like if they weren’t so tightly coiled together he’d be doing something else with them. “He’s none of your or anyone else’s business.” You smiled coyly at him and took another sip of your screwdriver. Mouse’s eyes flickered dangerously before going blank, a tense smile forcing its way onto his face. “Well alright, then. Let’s talk about something else.” You felt confused as Mouse started to ramble about the Blackhawks.

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Things seemed to be frosty between you and Mouse after your talk in the bar. Letters were still exchanged, but he wasn’t as open with you as he used to be. He stopped opening up to you, doodling goofy little cartoons in the margins, sweet words to you, monologuing about his goals and dreams (most of which involved you but you tried not to read too much into, despite how it made your heart flutter), and describing how badly he missed your famous chocolate cookies. You sighed, before placing his latest letter in the decorative box you’d gotten to keep them in. You gently placed that box next to your suitcase before returning to packing. You and George had ended your arrangement, he’d fallen in love with a wonderful man and now that things were serious, and that he felt ready to come out, you were moving out. You’d met him and surprisingly you two had developed a friendship, even with him knowing what you were to George. He’d thought it strange at first, but moved past it quickly when he considered the circumstances. And since he was a successful real estate agent, he’d volunteered himself to find you an apartment. The one you’d settled on was a steal and absolutely beautiful. Taping up the last box you were thankful that you didn’t have more belongings. The new furniture you’d purchased from IKEA was set to be delivered and put together tomorrow, deciding to leave most of your furniture with George since you weren’t overly attached to them and George had, y’know paid for them. So you were going to load your boxes and large suitcase into your car tonight and leave in the morning. Then the room you’d been living in would go back to being a guest room.

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The sound and smell of sizzling filled your apartment as you cooked up some sausages to accompany your toast and boiled egg for breakfast. They were almost done cooking when there was a knock on your door. Leaving them on the element for a moment you went and opened it. Surprised to see your brother standing there. “Jay! Will! What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to visit your new place, you know, since you actually told us the address this time.”

“Oh come on, you’re not both still on that, are you? I just didn’t want your overprotective asses descending on my life all the time!”

“Hey! Is that any way to talk to the guys who brought doughnuts?”

“Is that any way to talk to the chick who cooked sausages that she’s willing to share with her brothers?”

“Touche.”

“So why are you guys really here? We were supposed to have shepherd’s pie and stuff tonight.”

“Well, we are here in part to celebrate because I got assigned to Chicago Med and Jay is finally back after getting medically discharged.”

“Also, I was wondering if you’d heard from Mouse.”

“What? No, I haven’t, did something happen?” You stomach dropped and ice bolted up your spine.

“He didn’t handle everything well. After he was allowed to leave the facility, no one’s heard from him. Not even his family. We were wondering if he’d contacted you.”

“No, he hasn’t contacted me. I don’t know why you thought he would, we’re not very close.” Jay narrowed his eyes at you. “Then why were you exchanging letters with him while we were overseas? You don’t do that with someone you don’t care about.”

“He was out there with you Jay. It felt good to talk to someone I know had your back, he was willing to tell me things about you and that was going on that you wouldn’t. We formed a friendship for a while,” Jay and Will let out a snort, you raised your eyebrow, “but things got cold a while ago. He stopped telling me stuff about himself, the genuine things we corrisponded about.” You sighed. “Why are you acting like I’m super close to him?”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t know.” You shrugged and shook your head, feeling completely confused. “Mouse fell in love with you.” He and Will jumped when they heard glass shatter. You’d dropped your mug when you heard the shocking news. You could feel your jaw hanging open and your heart pounding in your ears.

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FOUR MONTHS LATER

You were cursing under your breath, your first date since high school stood you up in a pretty bad part of town, huddling closer to yourself, trying to remain unseen. Your plan had failed though, as a hooded man had been following you for the past thee blocks, even circled one behind you. You were officially scared. You were thinking of a plan to attack him that didn’t result in you get raped and/or murdered when you ran into someone. “Sorry, I have to go-”

“Y/N?”

“Mouse? What are you doing here?”

“The question is what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’d like to catch up with you but there’s a guy following me-”

“Blackhawks hoodie covering his face? I see him. I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and started to direct you down the street. “Let’s get you home.”

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Mouse was sitting at your kitchen island with a coffee and grilled cheese in front of him. His face looked shallow, he had bags around his eyes, he looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in ages and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. You didn’t need to look at his arms to know that there would be track marks. “Jay’s been worried about you. So have I. You dropped off the radar.”

��It’s my life not his.”

“I know.”

“So... You moved.”

“Yes.”

“You and your boyfriend broke up?”

“Yeah, we did, he wasn’t really my boyfriend, though, that’s a story for another time. How have you been, Mouse, really?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Whatever you say. What have you been doing?”

“Please don’t pull that with me Y/N. I know you can tell that I’ve been doing drugs.”

“I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I’m here for you, okay? I miss you and what we had. Let me help you. I’ll even leave Jay out of it if you want, I know he can be kind of over bearing.”

“Okay.”

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EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Mouse was curled up on your couch with you stroking his hair. Therapy had taken a lot out of him and he just wanted to be held. You obliged, letting him rest his head on your lap and running your fingers through his hair. He wasn’t moving or making any noise, and he was cold to the touch. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was on death’s door and called for help. After escorting you home from the disaster of a stand up, you’d gotten close again. Mouse went to rehab for six months and while he wasn’t using anymore it was clear he was still struggling so you’d suggested therapy with the VA. He’d been hesitant, and you hadn’t wanted to push, but he realized you were just trying to help him the best way you knew how. This included letting him live with you and not telling Jay you knew where he was. Mouse hadn’t wanted to ask that of you but he felt much more comfortable with as little pressure on him as possible. You sat like that for hours. Surrounded by silence, the only movement in the room was your hand going in soothing rounded movements along his scalp. You stopped when Mouse started to sit up. “I’m feeling like Thai food tonight, how about you?”

“That sounds like heaven, Y/N. I’m going to take a quick shower.” He dropped a kiss on your forehead and padded down the hall to the bathroom. You placed your usual order and then took a moment to dwell on your current living situation. Mouse meant a lot to you, but he also meant a lot to Jay, and not telling Jay he wasstaying here could seriously damage your relationship. And your relationship with Mouse was shifting too. Your apartment was only one bedroom, so while Mouse had started with sleeping on the pull-out couch, it hadn’t stayed that way. He’d found you comforting and since his nightmares often woke you up and prompted you to stay with him anyway, you’d started going to bed together. You’d made space for his things in your dresser and closet. All that with the subtle intimate gestures it made you feel like you were dating, and it had dragged all of your buried feelings back into the spotlight. It killed you to be so close, to be tangled in one another, to have your faces so close, and not being able to express how much you loved him. Crushing on your older brother’s brother in arms was one thing, but what the two of you were doing now was something else. Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. You were sitting the food on the island when Mouse stepped out of the bathroom in jeans and... nothing else. His lean chest and arms were exposed, they reminded you of the warmth you felt when he used those arms to pull you close and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to turn away. “Are you okay, Y/N? You’re looking a bit flushed.”

“Yeah, the food’s hot, that’s all.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

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BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The monotone sound of your alarm blared into your ear, reminding you that you had class. You moved to get out of bed but were held in place by Mouse’s -deceptively- strong arms. “It’s early. Stay.”

“I can’t, today’s my last class before my thesis is due.”

“No.”

“Greg.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Greg’ now is it? When will you be back?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

“Let’s meet somewhere for lunch.”

“Diner?”

“Diner.”

“Alright, now that that’s settled, let me go.”

“Fine. But I want it made very clear that I would rather be holding you against me.”

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

Class dragged on and you were glad when it ended. Your thesis was already complete, all you had to do was meet with your supervisor to go over it. You stretched your neck to try and remove some of the tension as you stood on the bus that was heading in the direction of your and Mouse’s favourite diner. A small family-owned place that was run by a single mom and her two kids, one of whom was a firefighter at firehouse 51. You got off at your stop and entered the diner, you spotted Mouse almost immediately. He was facing the door and smiled, gesturing to the two cups of coffee on the table. The sight made all the remaining tension evaporate.

Lunch with Mouse always relieved some stress, talking to him, being with him, made everything better. Always. Your burgers were served promptly and with a twinkling smile from Peter. The exchange was not missed by Mouse who muttered under his breath, as he did every time Peter was your server. “Mouse, why do you always do that?”

“What? Get annoyed when he flirts with you while I’m sitting right here?”

“We’re not dating Mouse, why does it matter if he flirts with me?” He tensed and swept his tongue over his lower lip. Taking a deep breath he sat up straighter in his seat and looked you in the eyes. “I don’t like it because I do want to date you, and I know that wanting to date you isn’t the same as actually dating you, but he knows how I feel about you. His mom pulled it out of me when I was doing a freelance job on my laptop here a couple of weeks ago and not only was he standing right beside her, but he told me that he thought we’d make a cute couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah... I get it if you don’t feel about me like that, I mean I’m a train wreck-”

“Mouse.”

“Jay would kill me-”

“Mouse.”

“I’m not good enough for you-”

“Mouse!”

“Y/N, please stop interrupting me. I just, I get that you don’t love me back and that’s okay and completely understandable.”

“Mouse I love you.” He gazed at you softly, reached his hand had closed around yours gently. “Do you mean it?” His voice was deep and soulful. “Yes. Mouse, I love you.”

“Thank God.” He leaned across the table and enclosed his lips around yours. His hands were delicately cradling your face, your heart swelled. All you could do was wrap your arms around your neck and smile into his lips. When you parted neither you nor Mouse could stop beaming.

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ONE YEAR LATER

Three months after your first kiss with Mouse he decided to get back in contact with Jay. Your brother had responded by tackling him in a bear hug, getting him a job at intelligence as the tech guy, and waving off your apology citing that you brought out the best in Mouse. While you and Mouse were still going strong and continued to love each other with everything you have, neither of your brothers knew. The only people who knew were Sarah Reese, your best friend, Trudy Platt, because she’s a genius, and Voight, because that man knows everything. They all encouraged you to tell your siblings, and you wanted to, you really did, but Mouse didn’t want to. He said he just wanted to enjoy your little bubble a while longer, but in truth, you knew he felt guilty about dating his best friend’s baby sister.

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

ONE YEAR LATER

You and Mouse still hadn’t told your brothers, while more members of med, PD and firehouse 51 knew, they were all sworn to secrecy. You wanted to tell your brothers. You wanted to be able to kiss your boyfriend when you visited the precinct at lunch, to hold hands without Mouse looking over your shoulders. It was starting to wear on you honestly, but you still loved him. And you understood that the time really just hadn’t been right recently. You both had agreed to tell them, but then catastrophe after catastrophe prevented you from doing so.

Sarah was frog-marching you to the ED because you’d been throwing up violently almost non-stop for days and was furious when she found out you hadn’t told Mouse you were sick just because he had a case. “Sarah-”

“No. You’re sick. Something’s wrong, and if you don’t get checked out I’ll tell Will and then he’ll drag you down here.”

“I was going to say you’re right this definitely isn’t a little stomach bug, that I’m grateful for you as a friend, and that your goddamn claws are digging into my shoulder, but okay.” Her hand fell from your shoulder, you rubbed it tenderly as the pain flared. “Sorry, I’m just getting really worried.”

“I know, I am too. Because I realized upstairs before you made the decision to manhandle me down here, that I haven’t gotten my period in two months.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup, that’s how I ended up here.” She rolled her eyes and hooked her elbow in yours. “I call godmother.”

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

“Hi Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nat, I think I’m pregnant.”

“Well okay, then. We’ll do an ultrasound while we wait for your blood test results.” You lifted up your shirt and tried to control your nervous breathing. “This might be a little cold, okay.” She pressed the gel-covered wand on your abdomen. She smiled and turned to you. “Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant.” You let out a sigh and looked at the monitor your brother’s wife had turned towards you. Your heart felt so full, remembering Mouse’s numerous comments about what he thought your children would look like. The moment of peace and joy was disturbed when Will, in his regular clothes, pushed the curtain aside. “Hey, Nat I need- Y/N? Why are you here? And- oh god. You’re pregnant, you’re- how are you pregnant? Y/N?” Will was in full freak out mode and he wasn’t paying any heed to Nat who was doing her best to calm him down. Sarah accidentally chose that moment to distractedly walk into the room. “Y/N I found the cutest way to tell Mouse you’re pregnant on pinterest-”

“Mouse?! Mouse knocked you up?! Does Jay know? Forget it, I’m going to kill him.” He stormed out of the room and ED, presumably to confront your boyfriend at PD.

“Shit, I didn’t think he’d be here, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“It’s okay, I have to get to the precinct before Will does.”

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

After pleading with your boss to let you go early, citing a family emergency, you rushed to the precinct and to Trudy’s desk. “Will’s upstairs isn’t he?”

“Got here a minute before you did, what’s wrong?”

“He found out about me and-”

“Say no more. Head on up.”

You took the stairs two at a time and ran into the bullpen to a full-on screaming match between Will, Jay, and Mouse. “Back the fuck up Will! Jay doesn’t get to make this decision for me and neither do you!”

“NO WAY GREG! NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL!”

“Will, calm down, he’s my best friend and I don’t want him to reenlist either but there’s no need to yell like that.”

“YES THERE FUCKING IS! GREG GERWITZ YOU ARE NOT RUNNING OFF TO THE RANGERS AFTER KNOCKING UP Y/N!”

“What?! Mouse, you did what?! YOU HAD SEX WITH MY BABY SISTER?!”

“DOES SHE EVEN KNOW YOU’RE GOING BACK TO THE RANGERS OR WERE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING HER BEFORE ASKING FOR A RIDE TO THE AIRPORT?!”

“HOW DARE YOU HAVE SEX WITH Y/N-”

“You’re reenlisting with the rangers?” Your voice was so quiet you weren’t sure how the three arguing men heard you but they did, as well as the rest of intelligence who were huddled in the break room. You were shaking and your vision was blurring from tears. You’d spent years worrying about him, as well as Jay. You didn’t think you could handle that, especially not now. You felt light-headed and like you needed to lie down. “No, I’m not.” Mouse crossed the room to you quickly, guiding you into Antonio’s chair and holding your face in his loving hands. With the pads of his thumbs, he wiped away your tears. “No, I’m not reenlisting. I got the offer from my old SO, I briefly considered it before chucking that idea out the window because I don’t want to leave you, Y/N. The only reason I haven’t outright told Jay, and consequently the rest of intelligence, is because they were trying to control my decision. I was never going to go, I won’t leave you, especially not now. How are you feeling sweetheart? Do you need something to eat or drink?” Still shaken up, you could only sniffle out, “I don’t know,” before bursting into tears. You felt him bend down more and wrap himself around you. He ran his hands comfortingly up and down your back while murmuring words of reassurance to you. “I’m right here.” “I don’t ever want to leave you.” “I love you so damn much sweetheart.” “I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” “I love you.” You finally lifted your head out of the crook of his neck, and looked into the gentle eyes you love so much. “I’m pregnant.” He smirked playfully. “I heard.” Laughter escaped your lips before you could realize his joke wasn’t all that funny. He pressed his forehead to yours. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah, we are.” Mouse captured your lips in a loving, searing kiss that was interrupted by someone, or someone’s, ‘aheming’ right next to you. Still tangled with Mouse you turned to your brothers, “how do you guys feel about being uncles?”

“We feel great but,” Will looked at Jay who finished the thought you knew they were both dying to ask, “are you going to explain any of this to us?”

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myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown · 5 years

Note

Hi!! So I’m a really big fan of both your quirkless!izuku fics and was wondering if you had any recommendations for similar stories? I dont have a preference for either villain or hero Izuku, or any particular pairing, I’m just looking for well written multi-chapter fix’s to see me through the apocalypse.

So, I have taken this ask as a challenge!

Quirkless Apocalypse (Over 50,000 words)

*WIP

Sorry most of these are WIPs, but I just went through my bookmarks and picked out some of my favorites.

Entropy*

Maybe it was All Might's betrayal that finally broke him. Maybe it was the torment from his friends, day in and day out, or the crushing weight of society's collective dismissal of his existence. The reason isn't important anymore- only the consequences. Two years after he and three other students vanished from U.A., Midoriya Izuku is the leader of the fastest-growing group of villains in Japan, and no one is left to stand in his way- no one aside from All Might's successor, the next Symbol of Peace.

All orderly systems descend into chaos. No one is immune to entropy, heroes least of all.

One of my favorite villain fics, basically Izuku becoming worse than the league of villains ever was.

Four Makes One Team*

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, getting the attention of the boy beside him. “What if I don’t want to be a hero?”

Izuku spoke as if he was setting the world on fire. As if he’d broken time in half and let the fabric of the universe collapse like a folding chair.

Katsuki twitched. “Then what else do you want to be?” There was a tinge of anger in Katsuki’s words, the hint of a shout tipping each consonant.

“Well,” Izuku scratched his neck, eyes locked on the stars attached to the ceiling that shown an odd neon yellow in the afternoon light. “Well, what if I wanted to help heroes or something instead.”

(Where Izuku decides he wants to be hero support, learns computer code, and digs way to deep into a villain case all for the sake of teamwork.)

Basically, Izuku and Katsuki meet some other canon characters as kids and basically become genius vigilantes.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report*

Izuku decides early on that heroics is not the only path to heroism.

I did not know that I needed parental Nighteye, but I definitely did.

Finding Abandoned Hope*

Nothing in life was fair. Some people just had more luck than others. Midoriya Izuku was not one of those people. He learned that the hard way.

Not everyone gets good quirks. Not every quirk is accepted by people. This was a cruel and unforgiving world and Shinso Hitoshi knew that quite well.

Together, maybe they can have the life they both want.

Runaways, Vigilantes, Dadzawa. What else could you ask for?

Ripples on Deep Water*

Midoriya Izuku didn’t expect much from life. He knew it expected everything of him, and he was always trying to rise up and meet that challenge.Except for one little mutation in his genes that made all the difference.Except for one little change in the route home after a pretty depressing day.Or:When All Might crushes Izuku’s dreams, he crosses the path of someone who rebuilds them. Izuku’s going to be a hero... even if it won’t be exactly as planned.Or:How the tiniest wingbeat of a butterfly over the still ocean brings tsunamis to distant lands.

Izuku meets Mei at the right moment and basically keeps his dream alive. Support!Deku with an eye toward the hero course.

Black Rabbit*

For most people, waking up in the secret base of one of Japan's most wanted vigilantes would probably be terrifying. For Shouto Todoroki it ends up being first stroke of luck he's ever had. Black Rabbit is nothing like the rumors and ends up being his first real friend. For once in his life Todoroki feels like someone actually cares about and supports him, Black rabbit going as far as to get him a new identity so he wouldn't have to go back to Endeavor. It also helps that, on top of being the embodiment of sunshine personality wise, under the mask Black Rabbit is the gosh darn cutest boy Todoroki has ever laid eyes on.

Izuku Midoriya is the vigilante known as Black Rabbit. Pros all over Japan have tried to catch him but all have failed. Nothing is known about him and he's been doing this for years, living in his secret base alone. He never had a friend until he rescued Todoroki. It's a relief and a blessing to finally have someone who knows him out of the mask and likes him as a person. There's a personal connection and closeness between them that he's never had before and he'll follow it as far as it takes him.

Now if they can only keep their respective identities a secret while attending UA

Vigilante!Deku with a healthy helping of Dadzawa and some sweet TodoDeku on the side.

Who said the only thing green about him is his hair?*

All Might isn't able to get away from the reporters after saving Bakugou and Midoriya during the sludge incident.

Midoriya Izuku, without motivation, Bakugou's words of suicide ringing through his head. He makes a decision, something that wouldn't ruin Bakuguou's chances of becoming a hero, something where he could get away from everything that was hurting.

Izuku decides to run away. Impulsive and hasty, desperate and in shock, he decides that running away and surviving would hurt less than any other option when reality hits him full force.

Runaway!Deku, enough said.

Swan Dive*

The Slime Villain Incident, and the events leading up to it happen one year earlier. Izuku, broken and lost in the face of All Might's words, decides to take Kacchan's advice. But a familiar Underground Hero won't let a young life end so quickly. How will a simple right-place-right time scenario change things?

OR:

Aizawa Shouta saves the life of Midoriya Izuku and finds himself with a new apprentice and surrounded by a quickly growing family circle. What has he gotten himself into? Heavy Dadzawa and Dadmic. Auntie Nemuri and eventual redeemed Bakugo.

The sweetness! The trauma! This fic will definitely punch you in the heart in more ways than one.

I’m Here*

What if All Might never dropped that bottle...? There was never a chance to prove himself. Midoriya never became a hero. Take a dive off the roof of the building, that's what Bakugo wanted, right? But a stranger stops him and gives him a new dream for the future. A boy's descent into madness and obsession but not without finding a family amongst a number of misfits. To kill some major league heroes. It's all they want to do and change society. What's the cost?

Insane!Villain!Deku. Literal chills, seriously. It definatly gets dark, so be ready for that. Also the league of villains as family and obsessive TodoDeku.

I’m Doing This For Them*

Izuku always wanted to be a hero, but without a quirk almost everyone he met said that was impossible, but Izuku's stubborn and he never took no for an answer. So he decides to take his dream into his own hands and do the impossible. Even if he can't legally become a hero what's to stop him from doing it illegally?

A lie-detecting detective, a purple-haired kid, and an insomniac pro hero, that's who.

Izuku decides to try his luck at becoming a vigilante and subsequently annoys the shit out of everyone he meets.

Sassy Viligante!Deku, EraserMic with Shinso, basically so much family!

The Yakuza isn’t that bad*

After Izuku was told by his idol that he can't be a hero without a quirk, he realized something. This world, where the quirked do whatever they want, and the quirkless are treated as less than human, is flawed. And what better way to repair a flawed world than returning it to when it wasn't?

Do you want Mafia!Deku? Very unique fic about Izuku taking over Overhaul’s operation (don’t worry about Eri, she’ll be fine) and pursuing a quirkless world.

Independence*

All Might is the number one hero, and has a beautiful wife, they are a beautiful, loving family. What no one knows is they have a quirkless son. When telling he him he can’t be a hero, Midoriya Izuku takes fate into his own hands, and tries to warn his parents he isn’t going to listen is the silliest of ways. He is still planning to be the best hero, even if he has to tear apart the society norms around him.

Bad bio-dadmight. Izuku is basically running on sheer spite at this point and it’s working.

Nii-Chan! Nii-Chan!*

Aizawa Shouta is a teen who lives by the rules of logic and rationality, in his second year of Yuuei. When his parents kick him out when discovering he has a boyfriend, he finds himself alone on the street.

Midoriya Inko lives in a small flat with her young and only son after her ex-husband ran learning she was pregnant. With Mother and Son sharing a huge heart with un-measurable amounts of love, they find and help Aizawa.

With a new Mom and a little Brother, Aizawa finally has a family to be proud of.

How much found family can we incorporate into one story? The answer is a lot more than you’d think. Basically once Izuku adopts someone, they are family. Lots of fluff.

Erased Potential*

Midoriya Izuku, determined to become a hero before ever meeting All Might, looks for another way. He might not have a quirk, but that can’t be all that being a hero is about. He has the intelligence, the drive, the determination. All he needs now is to know how to use it. Enter Aizawa Shouta.

Pretty much my favorite Dadzawa fic.

Net Neutrality (series)

I feel like this should be included even if each fic isn’t over 50,000 words. Info Broker!Deku and Vigilante!Deku with Eri getting the love she deserves. This inspired some parts of Mastermind, actually.

One-Choice: Vigilante*

Time is a funny thing, the way even a single choice can change the world forever. Every single choice can turn the course of fate in unexpected directions.

Midoriya Izuku always wanted to be a hero. Ever since he was a child, he wanted to be someone who saves other with a fearless smile. But when his world comes crashing down around him, when even the tiniest spark of hope is crashed, what would he do?

This entire series is really good. It’s basically another take on what I’m doing with my For the Want of a Nail series.

Secondary Colors*

"You got pushed down the stairs... and you're apologizing for it," he stated blandly. "That seems counterintuitive.""Um... sorry?" Izuku whispered. He was starting to shake a little, adrenaline flooding his veins and leaving him cold. He had no idea what Purple was going for with his blunt statements and the hand reaching toward his shoulder as if to steady him, but apologizing was generally safe."You don't have to apologize, dude. I don't know your name, but I doubt it's actually Deku.""Um. Midoriya." Izuku peered sideways at Purple as they rounded the corner. "Izuku Midoriya. Deku is just, um, just what my... friends call me." He winced."Sounds real friendly."

Izuku and Shinso are best friends with a lot of Dadzawa and Dadmic.

Pied Piper*

If they wouldn’t give him a chance then the solution seemed simple, he’d give himself one. He’d force the world to see him, force them to recognize his hard work. He wasn’t missing a quirk, it was simply that everyone else had been given an advantage. He wasn’t broken, or useless, or incapable, and he’d prove it by outrunning all of them, he who was quirkless, he who had started in last.

One of my favorite Vigilante!Deku fics, hands down. Izuku is an absolute mad lad in this.

We Don’t Need No Fuckin’ Heroes*

Almost half a year before Izuku's fated meeting with the Slime Villain, our protagonist finds himself running away from his fears.But instead of letting his fears overtake him and drag him back down to the darkness where they think he belongs, he finds friendship in the most unusual places and with the help of his friends they all claw their way up into the light where they want to be and where they truly belong.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Izuku met Dabi and Toga before they could join the league of villains? Amazing Vigilante!Deku

Detective Midoriya*

After the sludge incident, Izuku Midoriya's dream was officially crushed. However, a later experience takes the boy in a new direction. Izuku had never really contemplated being a detective, but his whole life he'd only ever wanted to help people with a smile on his face. Thanks to some luck and an entire police station, Izuku's dream is reborn.

Izuku joins the police force and basically proves that he’s as amazing as we all know he is.

There is No Such Thing as Competely Forgiven

Deku doesn't become a hero, though he might be considered one to people that have been rejected by society. He can be petty, twisted, and is loyal to a fault. That hardly makes him evil. No, he just knows the worlds got to change and he can't do that from a side that praises people like Bakagou Katsuki and All Might. He also would love nothing better than to get even with a few people that ruined his life...

Katsuki knows that he is the reason that Deku is dead. He just can hope one day he can forgive himself and that others can as well for the role he played in it. He needs to make the world a better place, one that Izuku would have wanted. He needs to be a hero that does more than punch villains in the face. But its really hard to be a needed change when he can't trust most of his own decisions are the right ones.

One of my favorite villian!Deku fics of all time, mostly because of the found family stuff it’s got going on with the league. It’s also got a sequel if you want more.

A Deadman’s Gun

“I—“ Izuku hesitated, gaping wordlessly, before admitting softly. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to go home. There’s nothing for me, there.”

“So you filled this hole by playing detective— And how long is that going to last, I wonder?” Stain replied, still massaging his chin. “But you— You have potential.”

Izuku blinked at Stain’s chest, before looking up. “Excuse me?”

“What a waste would it be, to let you become a red splatter on the sidewalk.” Stain continued, almost contemplating. “No. No, kid, what you need is a new purpose. Your old one is gone? Well, time to get off your ass and find something else—“

Ok, there need to be more parental Stain fics in this fandom, because this is absolutely amazing!

Hero Class Civil Warfare

Heroes lead by Bakugo.Villains lead by Midoriya.Seven days prep time.Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

Ok! Ok! I know this isn’t Quirkless!Deku but I have to include it because it’s a classic and it’s pretty similar to my fics, so I know you’ll love it anyway. It focuses on Izuku’s intelligence rather than his quirk.

#fic recs #ask #quarentine #long fics #quirkless izuku #my favorites

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