#and fucking tell me you didn’t get emotional at the one-last-look-at-my-friends line

[iamasaddie]

the number is not available at the moment

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, light degradation!kink, daddy!kink, dom!Joel/sub!reader, no use of Y/N a/n: my own fic for the writing challenge! thanks to the best and kindest beta ever @noxturnalpascal ily thank you so much <3 word count: 1.8k masterlist

You should’ve definitely listened to Max. A tiny voice in your head told you that your friend was right and you really shouldn’t have sent that photo to Joel. But your needy personality and the exponentially growing frustration from not seeing him for a week won over. 

You turned off the main light, leaving on the vintage lamp on the bedside table to bathe the room in soft yellow light, the photo you made in the mirror looking even more seductive. You loved how the soft milky white material looked against your skin, how the pajamas looked almost transparent with how thin it was. The tiny shorts and even tinier top revealed enough of your skin for your mouth to start watering, you smirked, imagining what it’d do to Joel. 

You chose the perfect angle that hid your face but gave the perfect view of your full breasts, the seductive curve of your hips and if he cared enough to zoom in, he’d see the hint of a wet spot where the fabrics stuck to your weeping cunt.

“Hope you have fun at your boring meeting, daddy.”

And sent.

The longer you looked at the little gray ‘read’ under your photo, the harder your teeth sunk into your lower lip, ripping the skin till you tasted the blood.

Wetness that covered the nub of your clit swollen with arousal now just felt uncomfortable rather than sexy. You groaned with frustration, throwing yourself on your bed and hitting the pillow with your face a couple of times. 

“FUCK!” The scream woke your cat that was sleeping on the windowsill, and it jumped up giving you a disapproving stare before running out of your room.

He told you he’d be over tomorrow, that this week was going to be a challenge with all the transfers and the end-of-quarter reports. He kissed your knees and promised that after that he was gonna be all yours until you tell him to get out. He just asked you to be patient with him that one week, but of course you waited until the last moment to fuck everything up.

You didn’t notice how your worry put you to sleep. Your phone vibrated on the pillow next to you, the screen’s blue light tearing into the darkness of your room. Apparently you turned the lamp off before falling asleep even if you couldn’t recall the fact. 

Groaning, you blindly grabbed the phone, one of your eyes squinting at the blinding light. As soon as you saw the caller‘s photo you felt a cold shiver that ran down your back, stopping in your pussy with a throb. 

Opening both of your eyes you pushed the green button and brought the phone to your ear, the darkness of the room still pressing. 

He didn’t speak first, the stillness on the line killing you and you felt a thick glob of saliva almost choking you as you tried to swallow it down.

“Hello, baby.”

Joel’s voice was calm, but you knew him well enough to hear the steely notes in it. It wasn’t a relaxed ‘how ya day was, darlin’ it was a quiet storm. 

“Hi, daddy,” you croaked out, voice shakier than you hoped. 

If you closed your eyes you could see Joel’s jaw squeezed tight. The muscles under his scruff-covered skin twitching as he pushes his brows together. 

“You wanna tell me something?” He’s giving you a way out, giving you a chance to be his good girl and you jump to take it.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You whisper sincerely. Your words tremble along with your eyelids. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

There’s another long silence on the other end and you can almost hear a mental watch ticking in your brain, counting every long second with a loud bang. That is until you hear Joel hum, the sound too neutral to hear the emotion behind it. 

“Yes, you shouldn’t have. Then why did ya, baby girl?” He didn’t sound as disappointed as you think he wanted to. His voice reminded you more of a therapist who tried to understand the motives behind his patient’s actions.

“I… I missed you,”  you started slowly. There were many more reasons for what you’ve done, but you decided to start with the one that could have given you an easy way out.

“And you couldn’t text me something decent? Something along the ‘I miss you, Joel’ lines?”

You felt the heat of embarrassment burn your cheeks, but also the shaming wetness of arousal when you started depicting the notes of rage in Joel’s voice. You were sick, no way you weren’t if you got wet when the person that you loved got angry and rough with you. If your pussy started leaking at the sound of him losing control. But he knew that, and it worked for you.

“I haven’t cum in a week and I felt… lonely.”

“I did not forbid you to cum, baby. You could’ve been with both your holes  stuffed full of toys 24/7 if you wanted to and cum as many times as your whore cunt desires.”

Your pussy twitched at his words, teeth coming back to assault the tender skin of your lip as you tried to stifle a moan. 

“So what was it?”

“I couldn’t cum without you.”

That was true. You were allowed to use toys, fingers, plugs whatever you wanted to get yourself off this week. Joel was never a sadist and he felt bad about leaving you for a whole week without orgasms when you were nothing but a good girl for him. But no matter how long it took you to prepare yourself, no matter how aroused and sexually frustrated you’d been you just couldn’t reach that peak. Your favorite toys failed, your hands were not enough. You just felt that constant buzzing under your skin, almost bringing you to tears with another orgasm-less night. 

“So that’s why you thought it would be fine to send me that slutty picture during my work meeting?” Without even getting the signal from your brain, your right hand pressed on the speaker button and dropped the phone next to your head before trailing down into your panties. Your left one has been absentmindedly kneading your breast since the moment you heard Joel’s voice that’s been getting more and more edgy with anger. “Knowing full well that I’m surrounded by a bunch of ugly old men and I need to impress them enough to make them want to invest in my company?” The feeling of guilt took a second place after the feeling of need that was coursing through you. Your fingers slipped on your mound wet with arousal and perspiration, sliding between your lips to your entrance and bringing your slick up to play with your clit. Your tender nub was swollen with desire and you started gently rubbing it in tight circles just like you did a thousand times before, praying that Joel didn’t hear it when your breath hitched. “And instead of being a good baby, a supportive girlfriend, you make me sport a boner during my presentation because you forgot how to get yourself off?” Your mouth salivated when he painted the picture for you. His thick long cock strained against his zipper. The thin expensive fabric of his suit pants doing nothing to hide the impressive bulge. You missed having him around, you missed having him inside. Since getting Joel’s dick for the first time there wasn’t a day when you didn’t have the need to feel the burning stretch of his fat shaft parting your insides.  “I should’a just shown them your picture, with that slutty wet stain on your pussy. Should’a told them that I needed all of that money just to keep your greedy cunt and ass stuffed with toys, since you’re so insatiable.” You could moan at that. The filthy situation played out in your brain. Joel, showing you off to a bunch of strangers who would rub their dicks remembering your body, call you names. Joel, grabbing you by the hair and fucking you in front of them on one of the meetings. Letting the biggest investor fuck your throat. You felt tears streaming down your temples as you bit into your lip with violence. Your fingers danced over your pussy, pressing into your clit as you slid them up and down in a desperate attempt to get your release. Your hole twitched, aching for something to fill you up, but you couldn’t move a muscle, all of your energy concentrated on getting off and drowning in Joel’s voice. “And even now, as I’m telling you off, what do you do? Fucking playing with your pussy. You just don’t learn, do you?”

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” you whined, cries tearing up your throat as you stopped trying to hide what you’ve been doing. Your hand moved faster, fingers rubbing your clit furiously as your other hand squeezed and pinched your nipples. Your breathing started getting faster and faster as you finally felt that upcoming orgasm, just a second more, just one second more.

“You better not come, baby. The only orgasms you’re gonna get from now on belong to me. And you will not come until you have had your punishment.”

“But daddy, please, I’m almost,” you felt yourself choking on air, almost possessed by the need to cum.

“STOP.” Joel barked, he never screamed at you, and this wasn’t exactly a scream either, but it felt like he shook the whole room with his voice. You whined, but your body obeyed as you stopped your frantic movements.

“Yes, daddy.” You whispered, trying to hold yourself together and not break down in tears. Still, you couldn’t deny that you felt a pinch of pride for yourself that even in the state of desperate delirium you were able to do what Joel said. What your daddy ordered. It made you feel good until you understood that he hasn’t said anything in a while. You looked at your phone seeing that he disconnected. Without giving it a second thought you hurried to call him back, feeling yourself being slapped with a robotic voice.

“The number you’re trying to reach is not available at the moment. Please, call back later.”

You blankly stared at the black screen of your phone for the next couple of minutes. The frustration from not coming physically pained you, sticking to your skin with a sheen of sweat. The tears of disappointment started welling up in your eyes and you felt your lower lip start to treble again, until a familiar ping made you spread them in a smile, all sadness promptly forgotten. 

‘I’ll be over tomorrow first thing in the morning. I love you.’

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#✏️ game club #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

[anjellaufeyson]

The truth lays within jealousy- Bellamy Blake

Warnings: basically just cursing and knife play

Summary: Bellamy's your enemy but things begin to take a turn once you start fighting to push through emotions you feel towards each other.

Bellamy Blake made my blood boil, and I prayed I made him feel the same way. I was best friends with his sister, Octavia. Meaning, I had no choice but to be in the same tent or room as him. The rivalry between Bellamy and I formed when the 100 first came to Earth. We were on dividing sides, he had everyone in his control and made them feel free but that ended dangerously. I was with the group that wanted to help and make sure we survived. 

“Do you always have to disagree with me, Blake?” 

He turned to look my way, his hand resting on the map below our waists laying on a table. “Do you always have to have disagreeable ideas–Kane?” He spit my last name out as if it left a bitter taste. 

I’m just thankful he didn’t call me that other name, the one he knew I so deeply despised. My eyes rolled on instinct, “You’re such a dick, you are aware of that flaw right?” 

He glared my way, “You always keep me aware don’t you, princess?” 

I fucking hated him, “Don’t call me that, Blake.” 

“What will you do if I say it again?” 

My father made me train with guards on the Ark since I was a child, I could easily take Bellamy, and him forgetting that made me always want to remind him. I stabbed my knife into the wood table and as soon as I did Octavia walked in. 

She moved the tent opening away, “What is going on?” 

Bellamy folded his arms making his muscles fight with his shirt. I tried my best to not stare but as much as I loathed this man and wished him nothing but the absolute worst–he was the formation of my desires. And that left lingering resentment. “Your friend is threatening me, O.” 

I unstuck the knife and pointed it at him from the other side of the table as I talked, “He was testing me, Tavia. It’s his favorite pastime,” I said staring harshly at Bellamy. 

“How about you both go train, maybe away from each other? You can work with Murphy and I’m sure you can find someone, Bell.” 

I gave a half smile, “I’m sure every–what’s the number now?” I made it look like I was deep in thought, “Like 50 girls now? Are willing to train with you, you know your way around the 100, Blake.” 

Bellamy gave me dead eyes as his jaw clenched. I struck a nerve. “O, get out.”

Octavia usually hates when Bellamy orders her around just cause he's older than her but she listened without a fight this time. She knew I crossed some form of a line. She mouthed sorry to me and walked out. 

I moved over to him, my knife laying close to his throat. He didn't care, he didn't even bat an eye. He almost smirked at the notion.

“Tell me, princess, was I supposed to pent up everything I was feeling like you do? Tell me, how's that going for you?” 

My eyes widened a bit, “I’m sorry do you want me to just go sleeping around with every dude on this earth because what? I can’t deal with my emotions correctly?” 

He bit his tongue. 

“I guess maybe I should take your advice because I see how greatly it’s been going for you. The known asshole you only go to for a hit and quit it.” 

Bellamy eyed me, “Is this you trying to offer up, princess?” 

My breath was shaky, I scoffed, “Go float yourself.” I stormed out of the tent and went to the only place inside Arkadia where you could blow off steam. The training spot. Bellamy usually overwatches, sometimes with Lincoln so I wouldn’t be surprised if he made his way over here.

Murphy made his way over to me, “Need a partner?” 

I nodded my head and decided to not take my anger out on him–at least not with words. “Yes, but I can’t promise I’ll go easy on you, Murphy.” 

He smiled as he got into his stance, “I didn’t expect you to. I remember seeing you training from time to time with soldiers. I’m going to have to bring my A-game now.” 

I laughed and it made me feel a bit better, say what you want about Murphy–but his sarcasm and wit will always make you laugh. I got into position and Murphy punched towards me and I moved my hand fast enough to push it away and block it. We kept going back and forth, not taking it seriously. 

Soon, as expected Bellamy appeared. He crossed his arms as he analyzed our performances. Suddenly both of us began to take it a bit seriously, but I chose to ignore Bellamy. He knew I was holding back, it showed in Bellamy's face.

“Let me try.”

I ignored him but Murphy stopped fighting, I tried to regain my breath. Murphy was like Bellamy’s sidekick since the beginning, that faded and nobody tried to make an enemy of Bellamy. Like it or not he did run a lot of things we live by. Especially with Clarke gone. 

He got into position and I immediately went to attack. I moved close and elbowed his face causing him to move forward. I went straight for a kick to his bent knee and easily got him down. When getting up his hand stayed on my thigh as he rised up, it was like he was purposefully trying to mess me up. That could be the only reason.

“Damn Bell, maybe she should replace you as a trainer,” Octavia said while spectating. Monty and Jasper laughed. 

Bellamy stood up and hit me immediately in the gut. From the force, I took a couple of steps back, and I cursed under my breath. He shrugged with a grin forming on his lips. When he went to pull another move I grabbed his arm pointed it up, and used my left arm to push down on his arm. I twisted his shoulder and I knew I was causing pain. I had this move done to me and I was in pain for a couple of days. 

For a split second, I heard a groan from him, it almost put a smile on my face. “C’mon Blake, are you even trying? If you lose this–I can only assume where you’re going to go to…or who.” Maybe it was a low blow but he pissed me off before. 

My fist came towards him and he grabbed my arm tightly, almost hard enough to leave a bruise, and flipped me onto the ground. I tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was hanging onto this fight by a thread. I kicked his stomach and he caught my leg and tried to make me fall but I did the one trick that took me years to master–I kicked with enough force off the ground for a second to gain a stance to be able to kick him back. 

Bellamy went to hit me in the face but I got to him first and elbowed him. He spit out blood and turned his head up with a grin as he wiped the blood. He tricked me and by making it seem like he was going for a low attack, I didn’t move up in time to block him and he punched me. My lip began to bleed. 

“Guys, I think you should stop now. You proved you both can fight–now stop,” Octavia warned. 

We ignored her warning and kept going. I was determined to beat him, and I didn’t have a real reason why. Part of me wondered if this was my only source of letting my emotions go, maybe I wasn’t that different from that man that I hated. We are both stubborn, witted, determined, quick-tempered, reckless, and aggressive. 

“One hit and we’re done,” he said. “Better make yours count, princess,” he whispered. The way he made it seem, that nickname was for our ears only. He never said it loud enough for others to hear and I almost preferred it that way. And when he did, he was only focused on me. As if nobody else was on the earth with us. 

My thoughts were distracted and he immediately brought me down. My back hit the ground and I winced in pain, my back arched a bit hoping that would help the pain. Before anyone could help, Bellamy quickly moved to my side. “Are you okay,” he asked almost frantically in a low voice. He sounded genuine.

The gaze I had on him changed, it softened even though I was in pain. I was utterly confused. “What are we doing,” I whispered, his back covering everyone’s view of my lips. At best, they’d hear mumbles. 

“Your solution to letting your emotions out, remember?” He lightly laughed, “Fuck, we’re idiots.” Bellamy brushed his thumb on my bottom lip, “Truce?” 

My brow almost furrowed, “Truce? Does that mean we suddenly don’t hate each other?”

He laughed and began to help me up, “No, definitely not. You’re still the bane of my being.”

I stood up and got my words out fast enough before everyone crowded me to see if I needed Abby, “And you’re still the only person I hate in this world.” 

Bellamy slowly backed away as we kept our eyes on each other, everyone kept asking if I was okay but I didn’t reply. I was too fixated on the man I detested. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said while brushing past them. The one person who got horrendously hurt was Bellamy, yet he didn’t complain or stop them from helping me. 

“I’ll help you to, Abby,” I said putting his arm around my shoulder which felt oddly–right. When I looked back to show Octavia I was going to help him, I just saw a group of disbelieving faces. I’d be shocked too, never would I have ever felt pity or thought of helping Bellamy. “I kicked your ass.” 

He laughed as if he didn’t have drops of blood on his shirt, “I’d call it a fair fight.” 

“I’d call it my win.” 

He glanced at my lips then my eyes, we came to a halt. “You want to finish this?” 

I could feel his hand brushing along my neck, “I think we’re probably banned from training together for a bit. Though I think that wasn’t a training session–that was fighting.” 

Bellamy’s gaze dropped, he stared at me, almost desperate as if he was yearning for something he never even got to get ahold of for years. His touch became more apparent, he stared at my lips as he talked. “I’m not talking about in the training spot.” 

My lips parted and suddenly every feeling I had for him disappeared. Only one stayed- the desire I clung to. Instead of going to Abby, Bellamy and I went into his tent.

It was as if both our strengths had been regain, like we were both pushing our limits to be ignoring our pain to mix it with pleasure. Bellamy took his shirt off with such poise and it made me roll my eyes. I started undressing myself also. My eyes lingered on his chest, God, he was so defined. Like a Greek god or a statue made out of generosity.

"My eyes are up here, princess," he said as he pushes me down onto his bed.

I didn't like how much I secretly enjoyed him calling me princess. "You're so full of it, Blake."

He kissed me roughly, as if we didn't have time to spare to be kind to one another. Our hate lingered and I loved it. I winced in pain because of my lip and that caused him to groan into my mouth. He was making it harder and harder for me to not rush this.

I switched spots with Bellamy, God forbid he lets me control one thing. I kissed down his neck being anything but gentle to the parts I knew he was going to have a bruise at tomorrow.

"Fuck," he whispered.

My hands traveled down his chest and before I could do anything he traded spots with me. "Watch yourself princess, if you keep going- I don't think I can stop myself."

"I don't want you to."

Bellamy used his knee to spread apart my legs. He put his hand around my neck and slowly pushed down so I’d be lying flat on my back. I felt my stomach growing butterflies. “I will be anything but gentle with you–” He paused and stared at my lips. “But I think you can take it.”

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #octavia blake #oneshot #enemies to lovers #bellamy blake imagine #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy #bob morley #jealousy #abby griffin #clarke griffin #knife kink #Spotify

[cacoetheswriting]

what happens at the drive-in...

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.5k warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, kinda angsty, very fluffy, emotional hurt / comfort, jealousy, adult language and somewhat mature themes, use of pet names (sweetheart), mentions of food and alcohol consumption, mentions of violence (in the movies they watch) - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: an unspecified amount of time in the lives of eddie munson and his best friend, as you watch various movies together and your platonic relationship blossoms into something more.

a/n: technically a part two to this little fic, but can definitely be read as a standalone.

-

There is a small part of your brain that constantly wonders what if, when it comes to Eddie Munson.

What if you told him how much you enjoy it when he unintentionally reaches for your hand whenever the two of you are alone?

What if you didn’t ignore the way he looked at you sometimes, and vice versa?

What if you had let Eddie kiss you last year after the homecoming dance when he called you beautiful for the very first time?

Or more recently during Halloween when the two of you crashed a random house party and everyone complimented his Frank N. Furter costume? The stupid happy grin was plastered across his face the whole night and he kept thanking you for “turning the freaky into something desirable.”, to which you drunkenly replied: “I always find you desirable, Eddie Munson.”.

What if you never put Eddie in the strictly platonic box in the first place? Would it be easier now to cross that invisible line you both drew during the course of your friendship?  

What if… 

“Then she laughed at my joke,” Eddie states with excitement, breaking you away from your thoughts, “Can you believe it? Betsy Bolton found something I said funny.”

He looks at you and your heart sinks because you haven’t seen him this amped up about a girl since his unrequited secret crush on Chrissy Cunningham while you were dating your then boyfriend Andy.

But you plaster the best heartwarming smile you can muster and reply honestly, “Because you are, Eddie, a funny guy, so I’m just glad someone else finally made you realise.”

There is a hint of hurt detectable in the sound of your voice, betraying the facial expression you put on for his benefit. Eddie notices immediately although doesn’t react to it — for your benefit.

“No offence but as my best friend, I’m not going to believe you when you tell me I’m funny,” he says instead and lifts a tape from the counter, “I took the liberty of renting out ‘Salem’s Lot’, if that’s okay?”

You nod in response and he gets to work in setting up this evening’s movie.

“Full offence because, as your best friend, I am the only one that can tell you the brutal honest truth which includes when you’re not being funny.”

“You’ve never once uttered those words to me, sweetheart.” Eddie sits next to you on the sofa, casually throwing one arm behind you. His fingers graze your shoulder in the process and your stomach flips. 

“Yet you still choose to believe Betsy Bolton over me,” you sigh dramatically, ignoring how you were feeling to retain some normality, and place the back of your hand to your forehead in a fainting motion. You tip towards him, gently landing into his chest as you let out a giggle.

Eddie laughs too. He looks down at you, a goofy grin highlighting his features. Then, as the two of you lock eyes, there is a brief moment of silence. Normality is fucked.

What if you just reached for his collar and pulled him in…

The curly haired teen clears his throat and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing the intrusive thoughts to dissipate from your mind, before sitting back up to focus your attention on the television screen.

Everything is tense again.

You blame yourself. Eddie blames ‘The Neverending Story’. 

He also thinks he should have told you then and there how he really feels because what if you felt the same way?

ALIEN

Every time that ugly creature makes an appearance, you can’t help but gag, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle next to you.

“I can’t believe this is one of your favourite films,” you exclaim about three-quarters through, not hiding your disgust.

He shrugs and without taking his eyes off the screen, he skews closer to you and simply states: “Sigourney Weaver is hot.”.

You roll your eyes. “I think I’m arguably better looking than Sigourney Weaver,” you bait, remembering his comments about Al Pacino a couple of weeks back.

He shifts in his spot and proceeds to place a hasty kiss to the top of your head.

“I never said you weren’t,” Eddie mutters against you and you’re wondering whether he’s mocking what you had said to him that night during your rewatch of ‘Cruising’ or whether he’s actually being sincere.

(Hopefully the latter).

BLUE HAWAII

“If I ever get married, one day in the distant future, this is the song I’ll use for my first dance,” you admit quietly as ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ plays through the lousy speakers, Elvis Presley’s character singing on screen.

Eddie glances at you, his mouth twitching upwards. “What if your future husband-to-be doesn’t like this song?”

“That’s too bad for him,” you reply and tilt your head to meet his doe-eyed gaze, “It’s Elvis or bust.”

He chuckles while running a hand through his brown locks before shrugging. “Well, I’m not a big fan of Elvis.”

You raise a brow. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”

Wait, what? 

The question rings in his ears and the way you’re looking at him right now definitely doesn’t help in getting his thoughts in order.

So he’s not thinking clearly when he takes off one of his rings. He’s not thinking clearly when he reaches for your left hand. And he’s definitely not thinking clearly when he slides the silver item down your finger with ease.

Your heart is in your throat during the whole interaction. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”, stupid, why would you even say that?

The film has faded into the background. Your focus is on Eddie and Eddie alone, and you want to scream because this is not platonic behaviour.

The curly haired teen leans in ever so slightly and whispers nonchalantly, “Elvis or bust.” Then, still holding onto your hand, he shifts his attention back to the television.

You want to comment, say literally anything, but you bite your tongue because you started this whole thing and whatever comes out of your mouth next, could make it even harder from crossing a line that cannot be uncrossed.

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Eddie can count the amount of times he’s been truly annoyed with you on one hand.

Truthfully, he lets you get away with a lot of shit because he knows fighting with you over silly little digs or unwarranted comments is not worth the time. And you act exactly the same with him. Nothing said is ever too serious to lead to an argument.

Until this moment. When one hand turns into two and a fight is imminent.

‘The killer's still loose, you know.’

“Eddie, I’m just repeating what I heard!”, your voice is rigid as you stand on your feet and take a step in his direction.

He’s not listening, he chooses not to.

‘You saying somebody else killed Tina? Who?’

“And I think you heard wrong, alright?! There’s just no way—”

“So you’re gonna believe some girl who laughed at one joke over me,” you interrupt, your blood starting to boil at his fucking stuborness, “You’re gonna believe stupid Betsy Bolton over your best friend?!”

How this whole thing even started, you couldn’t really remember anymore. One second you’re buried in his embrace, under the guise of averting your eyes from the screen, and the next thing you know, tensions are high and you’re both yelling.

“Betsy is not stupid!” Eddie counters. His statement causes you to roll your eyes which is a reaction he definitely doesn’t appreciate, “Why are you acting like this, y/n?”

‘I don't know who he is. But he's burned, he wears a weird hat, a red and yellow sweater, real dirty, and he uses some sort of knife he's got made into a sort of... glove. Like giant finger-nails.’

Your feelings are hurt because he’s defending her and you can’t figure out why. “I can’t fucking believe you…”

‘I think you should keep Nancy at home a few days. 'Til she's really over the shock.’

Eddie observes as you grab your cardigan and your bag before making a beeline for the front door of the trailer. He groans. “Where are you going? We’re not finished talking about this.”

‘I got something better…’

“The last thing I want is to be angry with you, Eddie, so I’m just gonna go home,” you state sternly, “Call me when you’ve come to your senses.”

The door shuts with a bang and he lets out a deep sigh.

‘I'm gonna get you help, baby. So no one will threaten you any more.’

FUNNY GIRL

The whole world is spinning when you open your eyes. The scratch in your throat seems to have gotten worse and your fever too, causing your whole body to shiver the second you try to move. 

A groan escapes your lips as you try to reach for the tissue box on the bedside table. Although to no avail because the second your fingertips touch its side, the carton falls to the floor.

God, you hate being sick.

You hate being helpless and weak. You hate how heavy your whole body felt, how hard it was to do basic menial tasks. You hate how you had no appetite. On top of it all, you hate how you were missing valuable time with Eddie. 

It’s been four whole days since you last saw him. If your memory serves you correctly, this is the longest period of time the two of you had gone without hanging out since you first became friends.

Sadly, the stupid flu you caught wasn’t the only thing to blame here. There’s also the matter of the recent fight your friendship hasn’t really recovered from.

Thinking about Eddie, you slip back into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how long you’d been asleep for when you wake up later. The bedroom is darker than before and it’s considerably cooler.

You can hear talking and footsteps. The noises seem far away yet close by at the same time. You blame the fever and are about to close your eyes again when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Are you awake?”

A familiar voice asks quietly. You hum something in response and the next thing you know, the mattress dips under the weight of your visitor. You peep from underneath your covers and your heart skips a beat.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, gently cupping your cheek.

“W-what are you doing here?,” you croak in response, “G-get out. I-I could get  you sick a-and then I-I would hate myself foreverrr...”

“Relax, sweetheart. Your mom says you’re not contagious anymore,” his voice is reassuring, “She also said they were going out so, and only if you’re up for moving, we can sit downstairs and watch something.”

And that’s how the two of you end up downstairs, on your sofa for a change, tangled up in each other's limbs. 

One of his arms is wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, while the other is propping your thigh against his hip. Your head is resting against him, just below his neck, while your hand is holding onto his side, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his t-shirt.

‘I’m The Greatest Star’ plays in the background.

You can feel his heartbeat. He can feel yours too. 

Neither of you say a word for the entire duration of the film.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

It was your idea to switch it up again.

For totally selfish reasons — because it was getting really hard to be completely alone with him — rather than renting out a movie and watching it as usual in Eddie’s trailer, you suggested going to a drive-in.

Convincing your best friend was easy, after all they were playing ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’.

The two of you ended up taking your parent’s car which meant you were behind the wheel and he was in the passenger seat. 

You sat with your legs up on the chair and pressed against your chest, to allow you to bury your face in your knees whenever a gory scene was shown on screen.

Eddie on the other hand was completely relaxed in his spot, munching on the bag of trail mix he bought earlier that evening.

He sneaks glances in your direction, just to make sure you are doing okay. This is the first time the two of you are watching a slasher and he’s not close enough to let you hide in his embrace.

“Wanna cut this short?” Eddie asks, “Go get a milkshake or something?”

“No, no,” you answer and turn your head, resting it on your knees. “I gotta get through this film at least once since you’re gonna want to see the second one when it releases in theatres in a couple of months.”

Eddie smirks then raises a brow. “Wait, how do you know there’s going to be a second?”

“Steve told me.”

“You’ve been talking to Steve?”, he sounds jealous. He is jealous. 

You nod. “Yeah, I mean I can’t act weird whenever I go rent a movie just because we went on one rather unsuccessful date,” you explain, “Plus we live in the same area so I bump into him every now and again, he gives me a ride to work at the odd time.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Well, actually he does, but it would be an irrational response that would most likely hurt your feelings and he couldn’t risk that. Not right now. Not after the two of you barely got over your last argument.

It’s not his place to tell you not to hang out with Harrington. Just as it wasn’t his place to tell you not to go on a date with the guy in the first place.

You’re quick to notice his doleful grimace. Extending a hand in his direction, you poke his tricep.

“I have to befriend someone else in case you abandon me for Betsy Bolton,” you tease, your best attempt to keep things normal.

Eddie glances down at his lap, his attention focusing on the empty spot on one of his fingers where the ring you now wore around your neck used to be. A warm sensation settles in the pit of his stomach and he knows in that moment, he can’t continue doing this charade with you.

It’s now or never.

“I’ve been ignoring Betsy,” he utters eventually. 

“Oh…” you murmur, “Why?”

And now he’s peeping back at you. Natural and ordinary go out the window. They’re replaced by shit, fuck, and what even is being platonic anymore?

He leans across the centre channel and as if on instinct, you let your legs fall from the seat and also incline in his direction. By the time he presses his forehead to yours, you’re shaking slightly because you know there are certain things that cannot be undone. 

(Was this a good idea? Or will you both regret this later?)

However, there’s really no time to think about the repercussions because his nose slides down the side of yours and his lips are inches away as they part, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“She’s not you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth and you’re done for.

One soft inhale later, and his lips brush yours lightly, then again with a little more intent, and again, only deeper. His hands are cupping your face while yours are gripping onto the collar of his denim vest as if your life depended on it.

All of the emotions that had been churning rose to the surface and exploded all at once.

With every passing second you’re melting into him further. The kisses get rougher. You’re biting his bottom lip. His tongue grazes yours. The two of you break apart and come together over and over again like magnets.

A few blissful moments later, Eddie draws back, quite unwillingly, to meet your amiable gaze.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he whispers and licks his lips, “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to fucking do that.”

“Ditto,” you reply breathlessly and lean in to kiss him again, annoyed at yourself now for deciding on the drive-in instead of his comfortable couch.

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

Lately, everything is exhilarating.

Getting up in the morning is easier. The grim Hawkins weather doesn’t seem to bother you as much. Your family is far less insufferable. The people that come to the diner where you work aren’t as annoying. Life is good. 

It’s great actually. 

And all thanks to the curly haired boy currently reheating leftover lasagna you brought from home.

Ever since your first kiss at the drive-in, the two of you have been pretty much on top of one another. Constantly holding hands, hugging, making out, finally doing all of the things you both dreamt of for months on end. 

Eddie in particular found it hard to keep his hands to himself. Who could blame him? You were smoking hot and finally his.

At least unofficially.

Even though he’s thought about asking you to be his girlfriend on numerous occasions since the night at the drive-in, he hasn’t found the opportune moment. He also didn’t want to pressure you, because what if you didn’t want to be anything more than whatever it was the two of you were right now?

He couldn’t handle that kind of rejection so in the interim, this arrangement suited him just fine. That’s what he told himself at least.

“Just be careful, sweetheart,” he warns as he hands you a plate, “That microwave may be old but it’s got some kick to it. The food is piping.”

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards and you reach for the dish, thanking him. Eddie returns the smile and plops down on the sofa, in his spot next to you, before proceeding to resume the film.

‘Are all these your girlfriends?’

‘Some of them…’

‘What about the others?’

“I have to say,” you begin in between bites of food, “you kinda remind me of Bender.”

Eddie cocks his head in your direction and raises a brow at your admission. “Is it because I too have a wallet full of pictures of random chicks?”, he teases and you nudge his side using your elbow.

“Hilarious,” your tone is sarcastic, “I bet the photos you cherish most are of Chrissy and Betsy.”

‘Well, some I consider my girlfriends and some...I just consider…’

‘Consider what?’

‘Whether or not, I wanna hang out with them…’

He chuckles at your comment. “You’re an idiot,” he jokes and places the plate of food in his lap to free up his hands. He reaches over to hold your face, brushing his fingers gently along your jawline. 

“Actually, the only picture I have in my wallet is yours.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, the revelation settling in the air. You almost want to ask him if he’s bluffing but judging by the glimmer in his eyes, you know he’s being honest.

You swallow your breath and lean in to peck his lips.

“So let me get this straight,” you murmur against his mouth and his grip on your face tightens ever so slightly, “A photo of me is in your wallet, I have one of your cherished rings around my neck, yet you still won’t ask me to be your girlfriend?”

‘You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?’

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah...that's the way it should be.’

Eddie smirks, his heart skipping a beat. He analyses every inch of your face, capturing this moment forever. God, he was the luckiest fucking guy in the world.

“And if I asked, would you say yes?”

“I would.”

He’s grinning now, as are you.

“Then I guess it’s settled, sweetheart. You’re my girlfriend now.”

His mouth slants over yours with ease, not giving you a chance to respond. His body pushes into yours and you have to be extra careful not to drop the dish you were still holding onto, (because pasta sauce is not the easiest to clean out of cushions).

Eddie’s mouth is possessive and it doesn’t take long for his tongue to breach your lips, the kiss now deeper than ever. 

Your heart is on a rampage as both your heads rotate back and forth to vary pressure. Tongues are dancing together, each trying to assert dominance. 

Eddie bites down on your bottom lip vigorously, causing a velvety moan to escape. The smooth sound of pleasure is music to his ears and breathless, he pulls away. This position isn’t working anymore, he wants to be able to touch you all over.

“I think you should put that plate to the side so we can move this to the bedroom,” he suggests, his hand slowly travelling down to your neck.

“But I wanna know how the movie ends,” you whine, teasing a little.

The doe-eyed boy smirks and releases you from his grip. Rather impatiently, he reaches for the half-eaten lasagna dish in your grasp to set it aside. He stands, extending you his hand which you take instantly.

He spins you around once and you land gracefully into his chest.

“I can tell you how it ends,” Eddie offers in a whisper, his arms sneaking around your waist, holding you in place.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. “The guy gets the girl.” — and in the space of a heartbeat, Eddie lowers his mouth back down to yours with immense desire.

-

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[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fourth part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! There are tons of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll show some love to. If you missed the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,894 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

3) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

4) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,520 words

Louis goes on a shit Valentines date and Harry's the cute waiter who takes him home

5) For The Love Of Biscuits | Mature | 16,574 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about hybrids is that their animal instincts make them jumpy. And quite often lends them to being owned. Harry Styles wasn't looking to purchase a half-breed. But sometimes things just happen. And owning a fox/human hybrid was something that happened.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Soup Of The Day | Explicit | 19,958 words

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong?

8) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

9) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,467 words

Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

10) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,986 words

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

11) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

12) Letters To June | Mature | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

13) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

14) As We Are | Explicit | 48,268 words

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

15) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

16) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,890 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

17) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

18) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

19) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

20) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please be sure to read the tags and any warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

21) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121,826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

22) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words | Sequel

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #hurt/comfort

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: tw: rape, tw: talk of being raped but not the act itself, tw: verbal abuse, tw: emotional abuse, john is a really bad person, super sweet bucky, relief and being free at the end

Summary: Ever since your failed one-night stand with John, you two have been in a "relationship". He won't let you leave and treats you like less than. Will you ever find your way out of this abuse cycle?

Squares Filled: romania (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The person staring back at you in the mirror is someone you don’t recognize. How did you get to this point in your life? You used to be so full of life and loved going out with your friends. Now? You’d rather stay in and not see a single person in fear they’re going to see who you really are: a weak bitch. At least, that’s what John tells you daily. Your eyes used to hold so much light but now they’re sunken in. Your skin used to be glowing but now is pale.

Thank God for makeup.

You paint your face to make yourself look happy, to conceal the tear stains away, and to make your skin shine like how it used to. Just as you put the final brush down, John walks in with a scowl on his face.

“You take fucking forever to get ready. The boys are waiting on you. You’re either ready in five minutes or I’m gonna leave you here and I’ll punish you when I get home.”

“I’m ready.”

You turn to him with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“Fucking finally. Come on.”

As soon as John leaves the room, your smile drops. This is getting to be very exhausting and you’re not sure how long you can do this for. Still, you grab your purse and meet John at the car. One of his good friends is hosting a small party with drinks and dinner, so he doesn’t live far from you and John. John has his hand on your thigh the entire ride as a sort of reminder. His touch makes you want to throw up, everything about him you hate, and he’s not a good person. 

Not only is he mentally, verbally, and emotionally abusive toward you, but he crosses the line into physical abuse almost every night. He’s only hit you once out of anger but the physical abuse is sexual. One night a year ago, you were looking for a meaningless hookup to get over your ex and John had taken you back to his place. Everything was going great until the point where you two got into it. You backed down at the last second because you didn’t want to do that to yourself, but John didn’t take no for an answer.

He ended up raping you that night and has been almost every night after that. He became obsessed with you and had been for months before that, and now that he got his hands on you, he didn’t want to let you go.

He won’t let you leave, and you don’t know how to break this cycle.

You and John arrive at his friend’s house just as Bucky and Sam get there. It was John’s idea to invite them as a sort of “get to know my neighbors” type deal. He wants to prove to them that he’s just as capable of being Captain America as Steve was. Bucky isn’t going to go for his bullshit but Sam made him come here.

Bucky smiles when he sees you. He’s always thought you were too good for John but he’s kept his mouth shut because it seemed like you were happy in the relationship. However, when you pass by him to get into the house, he can see how terrified you are in your eyes.

“It’s good to see you two. I’m glad you could make it,” John smiles.

The worst thing about John is that he’s super charming and can convince a town full of people that he’s the good guy.

“Sam made me come.”

“Hush,” Sam says and whacks Bucky on the back of his head.

All four of you walk inside and greet the men who are already here. The only other woman who is here is one of John’s friend’s wife. You’d much rather go off on your own with the wife and make small talk but John keeps you by his side all night. Even as he’s talking to Bucky and Sam about his plans regarding Captain America, his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. Bucky looks at you briefly and sees the look in your eyes. You’re smiling and agreeing with what John is saying but your eyes are telling him a different story.

Something is wrong here but he doesn't know what or how to help you.

Eventually, dinner is served and you’re seated next to John and the other woman. Bucky and Sam are on the other side of the table but Bucky’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked past him. It’s bugging him that he knows something is wrong without knowing exactly what it is. Everyone is eating and having a good time while you pick at your food cautiously. You can eat only what John approves of you to eat since he’s told you constantly that he doesn’t want you getting fat on him. If you look a certain way, he’ll force you to lose weight until you can fit into the clothes he buys you.

It’s your fault for eating too much anyway.

You’re not sure how the conversation ended up on languages, but John is always looking for an excuse to talk about this. You’ve pretty much tuned out this entire evening.

“I don’t know if you guys know this but Y/N can speak five languages, Romanian being one of them. It’s the one I find the most romantic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I grew up with it,” you nod.

“Tell them how great I am in Romanian,” John chuckles.

The only other person at this table who can speak Romanian is Bucky. This is your chance. This is your chance to ask for some real help without alerting John you’re doing it.

“Am nevoie de ajutor. John nu mă lasă să-l părăsesc. Mă violează de câteva ori pe săptămână. Este abuziv fizic, verbal, mental și emoțional. Mi-e teamă că mă voi trezi într-o zi să-l văd cu un cuțit în față. Vă rog să mă ajutați. Nu mă va lăsa să plec.”

I need help. John won't let me leave him. He rapes me several times a week. He's abusive physically, verbally, mentally, and emotionally. I'm scared I'll wake up one day to see him with a knife in my face. Please help me. He won't let me leave.

You can’t look at anyone in the eyes, especially Bucky. Still, you peek a look at him to see shock written on his face. He understood every word you said but John is still smiling next to you as if you told everyone how loving and kind he is. John reaches over and grips your thigh gently to let you know he has all the power here.

“What did you tell them?”

You look at John and smile at him.

“How much you love me and how much you treat me like a princess. How much I love you.”

“See?” John chuckles. “She’s a keeper.”

John goes back to eating and chatter resumes as normal. However, Bucky can’t stop looking at you. You lock eyes with him before looking down and finishing your meal. The rest of the dinner goes by without a hitch and John is saying goodbye to his friends.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast. I’ll be quick.”

John can’t be his usual self around company so he kisses the side of your head and allows you to do that.

“Hurry back.”

It’s a simple request but it holds so much threat behind it. You leave his side and head to the upstairs bathroom since that’s the only one working. As soon as the door is closed, you rush over to the toilet and throw up everything you ate. You want to cry until there is no more water in you but you have to remind yourself that John is waiting and he’ll get meaner the longer you make him wait.

Someone knocks on the door and the panic and fear in your body spike to a high level. You wipe your mouth with toilet paper and flush the toilet to make it seem like you’re done.

“Who is it?”

“Bucky.”

Relief replaces your panic but the fear is still there. He knows what John does. He knows everything. What is he going to do? You open the door carefully and he pushes his way inside with determination.

“Is what you said true?”

“I can’t do this here, Bucky.” If you talk about it openly, then you’re going to cry and John will know for sure something is up. “If I talk about it, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.” You look at your reflection to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined. “I have to go. John is waiting.”

“Wait just a minute,” Bucky says and prevents you from leaving.

“Bucky, please. John will get angry. I need to leave now.”

“John is no longer going to hurt you.”

“What?”

“Stay here and wait for my return.”

Bucky leaves before you can say anything else. John sees Bucky come back alone and he’s getting a bit frustrated with you. He can’t do anything in front of his friends but just wait until he gets you home.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“In the bathroom. It sounded like she was washing her hands when I passed by. Can I talk to you for a second outside?”

John looks confused but follows Bucky outside nonetheless. John passes by Bucky while he stares at his vibranium arm. The metal flexes with power and Bucky is trying so hard to contain it.

“You want to know an interesting fact about me?” Bucky asks and looks at John.

“What?”

“Vorbesc fluent Romana.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m fluent in Romanian.”

John immediately gets nervous. You told him you told everyone how much you love him but based on Bucky’s reaction, he knows you said something else.

“That’s cool, man. You and Y/N have something in common.”

With his vibranium arm, Bucky sends what’s supposed to be a deadly blow to the face. It would be deadly if the person he is punching didn’t have the super soldier serum in him. John crashes into the car behind him and sets off the car alarm. Everyone inside rushes outside to see what the commotion is.

“Never lay a hand on her again!” Bucky yells angrily.

Bucky sends another hard blow with his flesh hand to the side of John’s face. This is when the fight or flight response in John kicks in. He starts to fight Bucky back but there is no use in stopping the Winter Soldier. They both have the serum in them but Bucky has always been and will always be stronger than John. Bucky grabs John’s collar and pulls him up to his feet only to slam him to the concrete down below. Bucky punches John’s chest so hard with his metal arm that John’s ribs break and he coughs up blood.

“Hey! What the hell is going on!” Sam yells and pulls his friend off your abuser.

“He’s a fucking abuser and a coward! He’s hurting Y/N, and it’s gonna stop now. Don’t fucking go near her or I’ll do more than break your ribs,” Bucky threatens.

Everyone looks at John who just groans in pain with his eyes closed. Bucky pushes past everyone to get back into the house and to the bathroom where you are. You’re sitting on the toilet biting your nails nervously. You have no idea what is going on out there or what Bucky can do to help you. The bathroom door opens and Bucky enters without a second thought. You stand up to greet him when you smell blood. Your eyes trail down his body until they land on his flesh hand which has open wounds on it.

“What did you do?” you gasp.

“I should have killed him.” The realization that you’re free, at least at this moment, hits you and the floodgates open. The tears come flowing out and won’t stop, and Bucky pulls you into his arms. “He will never hurt you again. Sam and I have an extra room you can use.”

Your grip on him gets tighter.

“Thank you,” you cry and shake in his arms.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction #marvel angst #mcu angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

[cripple-punk-dad]

Once again feeling emotions about God, Forgive These Bastards: Songs From The Forgotten Life Of Henry Turner by The Taxpayers. I listened to the whole album not really knowing the background or the story behind the title. I just loved the music and the artist's voices. But then I found the explanation by the main vocalist on the album, Rob Taxpayer, and:

"The first time I met Henry Turner I feared for my life. I remember the exact date – February 18th, 2007 – because the day before, a close friend of mine had unsuccessfully attempted to commit suicide in his studio apartment and I’d spent the entire night at the hospital. It was one of those terrible and typical Pacific Northwest winter nights where the rain seemed relentless and the gloom was contagious, and as I waited at a sheltered bus stop on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard for the # 6 to arrive, a man approached me for a cigarette.

I shook my head and gave him a half-smile.

“Sorry. I quit a few years back.”

I stuck my head back into the newspaper I was reading, and he took a few steps closer.

“How about a buck and a quarter then? All I need is a dollar and a quarter and I’ll have enough for bus fair.”

I shrugged and fumbled around in my pocket.

“I’m using an expired bus transfer myself, but I might have a few extra dimes. It ain’t much, but if it helps, it’s yours.”

I passed him the change, and when he grabbed it, he ducked down to my level and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Look at me. Does it look like a few extra dimes would help? You think a few extra dimes would do any good to anybody? Take a look at me. I got a rotten heart and a bad shoulder and I ain’t slept a good night’s sleep in the past ten years, and you wanna know the kicker? I get fuckers like you tossing me their condescending extra dimes.”

He was tall and intimidating, with wild gray hair and deep wrinkle lines all across his face, and his eyes would occasionally roll up into his head, quiver, and then refocus. His thick, wet coat and his tangled beard had bits of crumpled leaves stuck to them, and he carried himself with the strange confidence of an angry and confused lion.

“And the best part about all of this is that I know you’re cheating me. And you know what I did to the last bastard that cheated me? “

He paused for a few silent, terrifying seconds.

“I bit his ear off.”

I almost pissed my pants. My brain was telling me, “get up and run”, but my body was frozen in fear, and I sat there shaking in excruciating silence. Sure, maybe he was harmless, but something about the look in his eyes terrified me. I could see the bus approaching from about a quarter of a mile away. I did the math. From that distance, it would be another minute or so before the bus arrived, saving me from certain death. I could try to fight back. But while he was an old man, he was an enormous old man, and anyways, you just can’t fight a crazy person. I could run. That was it. I was going to have to get up and run before he sunk his teeth into me, or pulled out a knife, or worse.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Not a maniacal laughter, but a booming, good-natured laughter, and his angry eyes became kind and warm. His snarl turned into a crooked smile, and he slapped me on the back like an old friend.

“Aw, I’m just fucking with you, kid. Ain’t much for laughs around here. You’ll have to forgive me.”

He held out his massive hand for me to shake.

“Henry Turner. Friends call me Hank. How ya doin'?”

I was still petrified. Was this some sort of a trick? Was he going to grab my hand and then snap it off like a tree branch? He looked me over and laughed again, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bus pass.

“Here. This one ain’t expired. Go on, take it, I got a whole stack of ‘em.”

And with that, the bus pulled up to our stop in the rain, the doors opened with a loud mechanical sigh, and Henry held out both his arms, outstretched, in the direction of the doors.

“After you, kid.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was a semi-celebrity around town, although most people wrote him off as just another one of the crazy folks that told rambling, drunken tales – amusing for a few minutes, but best largely avoided. It was true, he had his demons, but he also had a magical brilliant quality to him, and whenever I ran into him around town, I’d end up spending a few hours with him, if for no other reason than to listen to his unbelievable stories. It didn’t really matter whether they were true or not, it was the way he told them, with absolute clarity and confidence, no matter how crazy they sounded. Some of it even checked out. He’d often talk about his years playing baseball with Georgia Tech, and the famous play-off game where he pitched a two-hitter in 1979. When I got home, I went on the internet and looked up the Georgia Tech roster from 1979, and there he was. Henry Turner. I’ll be damned.

The years went by. I’d leave town for months at a time, but when I came home I could always expect to run into Henry for the latest news and a ridiculous tale. Businesses closed and new ones opened, houses changed ownership, new faces arrived and old ones disappeared, but he was like an ancient marble pillar – unaffected by the changes around him. Or so it seemed. In the winter of 2010, three years after we first met, I ran into Henry on one of the downtown park blocks. He was disheveled and had these crazy eyes, and when he recognized me, he touched me on the shoulder and said something to the effect of, “Gonna go away for a while. You’ll hold onto something for me, yeah?”. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a huge stack of unused bus passes, thrust them into my hands, and walked away. It was the last time I would see him.

Henry Turner died on March 25th, 2010, a product of years of substance abuse and tough living. If a funeral was held I wasn’t aware of it. The news of his death hit me harder than expected, and it sparked an obsession: I began compulsively writing down every outlandish and unbelievable story he’d ever told me, as a sort of tribute. My band started working on an album of songs pertaining to Henry’s life. My nights were spent researching everything I could find about the Turner family. I would rant on and on to complete strangers about the whole ordeal. Then slowly, it began to subside. Life went back to normal. Though I never quite forgot about it, my utter entrancement with the Turners faded.

What follows is an amalgamation of the stories Henry told me, as best as I can remember them. I hope I did him justice. There are some embellishments and I took quite a few liberties, but like all good narrators, Henry knew that any story worth telling should be grand, significant, and a little bit false. It’s important to note that Henry was no hero, and I’m not trying to romanticize or defend him – as you’ll find out, he was a murderer, an abusive husband, an unapologetic addict, and a crook who was haunted by his most awful moments. But he was also at times a tender, loving father, a brave adventurer, and an amazing pitcher, who was surprisingly candid and an absolute charm to listen to. No person can be summed up by their worst actions. And despite his insistence that “forgiveness ain’t an inherent human quality”, that’s what this whole thing’s been about for me: the capacity to forgive someone’s most wretched moments.

Ultimately, I think that when Henry was at his best, he was something simple: a kind, strange friend" -Rob Taxpayer, from The Taxpayer's Bandcamp page

Look at me look me in the eyes: "No person can be summed up by their worst actions" I'm broken I'm dead I'm deceased. The last track on the album is an interview with somebody who knew Henry as a child. It's about remembering someone that nobody else thinks about it's about preserving the memory of the jerks and the assholes and the addicts because everyone deserves to be remembered and to have songs sung about them and have their stories told in whatever way they can be told.

#the taxpayers #diy punk #punk music #tw suicide mention #punk community

[w1ldthoughts]

The Forgotten One Chapter Eight: Dear Diary

Series Masterlist

A/n: Two chapters left!!! Thank you again for reading, I love you all.

“I’m going to murder that fucking little weasel. I knew I didn’t like him.” Cleo spits out.

You ignored her threats and focused on the task at hand. “We need to get to Churchill Downs now and tell Jack what’s going on before Ben comes back from visiting his family in California. And before you say what I think you’re about to say, yes, he’s in California for sure. My doctor cleared it so I dropped him off at the airport yesterday and he posted on his Instagram story from Cali this morning. We’ll get Jack’s lawyers on it and bury these bitches and their fuckass baby.”

You covered your mouth after you spoke to stifle a laugh. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t say bad things about an unborn child, they have nothing to do with this.”

Cleo sighs, “fuck them and fuck that baby. I do not care.”

The two of you erupted with laughter, until you were reminded of reality. “How did I forgive the cheating the first time? Back when I thought that he cheated I mean.”

“It took a minute and emotions were high but you did agree to give each other space and your relationship was pretty much hanging in the balance.” She sniffs a little. “There were a lot of tears shed and a lot of honest conversations. But at the end of the day Jack’s story from that night was just full of holes. He had no memory of sleeping with the girl and he’s too powerful and influential of a figure to put himself in such a compromising position and deep down I think you knew that. He might have gotten too comfortable with another woman who just caught him at his worst but I don’t actually think that you thought for a second that he would cheat on you. You were more upset about fighting with him.”

Oh yes, the fight. Another thing you were still trying to piece together. One battle at a time, you tried to remind yourself.

You had to practically run around Churchill Downs in order to keep up with Cleo’s long strides. She’d been waiting for the moment that you and Ben ended things and you knew she is and always will be team Jack. His assistant Sadie was sitting at her desk with a weird look on her face.

“Mr. Harlow is out of the office until next week. And he also told me that he did not want to see either of you. So I suggest you move along.” She gave the two of you a smirk, her condescending tone would have bothered you had it not been for the mission you were currently on.

“Well can you tell him that we need to speak to him…it’s an emergency.” Cleo demanded, urging Sadie to pick up the office phone after she rolled her eyes. It rang a few times before the woman relayed the message, waiting patiently on the line for a response.

There was that smug ass look again. “He asked if it was work related.”

You and Cleo looked at each other before she spoke, “um, not exactly. But—”

“If it’s not work related then he says there’s nothing for you to talk about. Please shut the door on your way out ladies, have a wonderful rest of your day.”

Cleo mocked her and they stared each other down as you walked out the door to figure out your next move. You immediately called Jack on your phone. There were a few rings and then a busy signal. Cleo tried on her phone and was met with the same results.

He had blocked the both of you.

“You did tell him to forget you. This is definitely a solid way of doing it.” Your best friend tries to reason. This whole thing was all your fault and now you had to find a way to fix it.

“We need to take care of this ourselves then,” you began as you walked back to her car, more determined than ever.

Cleo started driving off with a confused look on her face, the last few hours had really blown her mind. “We already have all the files from Reed and the video footage from the room. It’s a pretty clear cut case of extortion, what else is there for us to do?”

“We have pictures of Quinn, pictures of Jack and pictures of them together. Then we have pictures of Ben and Quinn together and a weird video from a hotel room that was likely not legal activity and will probably not be admissible in court. It’s pretty much their word against mine and all they have to say is that I’m mentally incompetent because of my brain injury. And now that Jack is out, I have no solid leg to stand on or a team of powerful lawyers at my disposal.”

She let out a groan and a deep sigh, you were right. “So what the hell are we going to do?”

“I’m going to get Ben to confess. Pretend to be on his side and use whatever feelings he has, real or not against him. He faked it with me for months, I can do it for a few hours. And I have time to prepare. In the meantime, I need to focus on recovering memories.” You walked back into your apartment and pulled out a journal in your desk drawer. “Everything that I know so far has gone in here, I’m going to put all of the pieces together from this and put it on my laptop so I have it all laid out in front of me.”

“They messed with the wrong bitch, I love it. I will let you get to work and I will figure out how to build a solid case and get exactly what we need.” You hugged her, thanking her for everything. “I love you, you know I got you…always. We’re going to make them regret ever doing this to you and Jack, okay?”

“Okay. And I love you too, always.” Cleo locked the door behind her and you got to work.

A few months earlier…

Finding a work-life balance was becoming more of a struggle. There was work y/n who was early to every meeting and knew the history of the company like the back of her hand as well as having a clear cut vision for the expansion of Churchill Downs Inc. in the future. Then there was home y/n, who had been adjusting to living with her boyfriend full-time and figuring out how their lives actually worked together. Like who was doing the dishes at night and little shit that really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but was suddenly super important. And then there was Jack Harlow’s girlfriend y/n, the public figure who everyone wanted to dissect…all the fucking time. It was slowly killing you and your boyfriend couldn’t see that.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t come to one more event this week. The mayor will be there and all of these people that I need to get cozy with so I can continue to have their respect. It’s gonna look kind of ridiculous if I show up there without you.”

It felt like you’d been having very similar little arguments all month and this was just the final straw. “There is no just. It’s always going to be ‘one more thing’ and I’m tired of being paraded around as just the girl on your arm. I’m your Director of Operations, I present in front of the Board of Directors once a month,” you paused to collect yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh, “Jack I need to be respected at work. Not just be the girlfriend who slept her way to the top.”

“Nobody is saying that about you.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“They don’t have to. It’s written all over their faces. And when I nod and smile like I’m supposed to? Everyone keeps looking at me like I’m this ungrateful bitch. Like you’re some grand prize that I won and I’m supposed to sit there and celebrate. I’ve lived an entire life without you and now I’m just supposed to live the rest of my life for you? Fuck no.”

Jack shakes his head, “maybe sometimes you can just pretend that I am the fucking prize! Not everything has to be this huge fucking deal, I just need you to do this one thing for me, take a few stupid pictures and we’ll come home and relax.”

“You don’t get it because this has been your entire life. My god, you have no idea the pressure that I’m under because I spend so much time reassuring you that you’re doing amazing and that you’ve earned everything you have, but where’s my reassurance? I don’t want fucking extravagant gifts all the time. I want my partner to see for who I am, fuck the optics.”

Love is hard sometimes. But you don’t fight for something—someone this hard unless you love the shit out of them. That’s what the fight was about. Two people who are experiencing opposite sides of a very public relationship while simultaneously trying to keep the company they love afloat. Sounds melodramatic when you really sit and think about it but when emotions are running high and you mix business with pleasure, things are bound to get messy. But then you take a step back, realize that no fight is worth losing the love that you worked so hard to nurture and then everything just kind of falls back into place. You woke up from that memory recognizing that things really were so much simpler than you thought. You and Jack had a normal, loving relationship and when there were inevitable disagreements, you communicated through them and found your way back to each other. Nothing that happened between the two of you was actually life altering, except the time you were living in now.

Suddenly needing some comfort from him, you went back through some of your old texts. Jack was cracking jokes of course and you delivered witty responses. There were days when he was out of town and would text you just to tell you he loved and missed you. But there were things in there that he said that felt so familiar.

Everything about you makes me want to be better, try harder, do more.

God, you’re the most powerful woman I know. I can’t get enough of you.

You laughed to yourself, out loud in the living room. These were all things Ben had said to you. Everything you thought you liked about him actually came from the person you were trying so hard to let go of. You pulled out your laptop to put in a new entry to include in your timeline of events.

Dear Computer Diary,

I have been dating Jack the entire time.

Five days later…

Jack was hiding out in his parent’s house ever since he got back from New York. He couldn’t keep going back to that big, empty house alone for another night. Fuck that. All he wanted to do was eat his feelings and for everyone to stop asking him if he was okay. So that’s what he’d been doing…the last three days.

His mom barged into the guest house early in the morning on day four of his personal retreat. “Sweetheart, you can’t keep going like this. It’s depressing.” Maggie sighs.

“Can’t I just mourn my relationship in the comfort of my childhood home in peace? What’s so wrong about that?” He willed himself not to cry. Not this time. Not again.

“What’s wrong is that my son is willingly letting the most important person in his life walk away without a fight. Since when do you do that?”

He laid his head in her lap as she ran his fingers through his hair and it made him feel like a kid again. Safe, cared for and protected from the harshness of the world. “I don’t want to fight for someone who has specifically asked me not to. Getting kind of tired of having the door slammed in my face over and over.”

“Honey, what you and y/n have? That shit doesn’t just grow on trees or fall out of the sky. It's the kind of love that takes work, you cultivated and watered it carefully for so many years. And now you’re ready to just…throw it all away?”

Jack knew his mom had a point. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” she gave him room so he could sit up and look her in the eye, “you took a backseat. Moved at her pace which was sweet and admirable. But you showed her friendship, you didn’t show her romance. You didn’t show her love. You placed her in situations to stimulate her memories. And instead of actively pursuing her as who she is now, you tried to get her to be the person she doesn’t remember she was.”

She was right, he had been so focused on getting you to remember what was, that he didn’t even appreciate what is. He knew you were placing so much pressure on yourself to hurry up and recover and get back to normal that he hadn’t realized his part in it. And when you ran away from your pain in a frenzy…he let you go out of the immense hurt the two of you had been causing each other. He felt those familiar tears brimming his eyes and his mom gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead, giving him some time to himself. It was a quick cry, just so he could get that final weight off his shoulders. After he collected himself, he grabbed his phone and knew exactly who to call.

“Urb? Hey. Yeah I’m good bro, I’m good. Listen, I need your help with something. Can we meet somewhere in two hours? All right brother, I’ll see you there.”

They had some fucking work to do.

Taglist

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@killatravtramp

@middlechild404

@harlowcomehome

@itsyagirljaz

@iknowdatsrightbih

@earthtoharlow

@alimaythings

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#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow au #jack harlow angst #jackman thomas harlow

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 3

Stumbling over the finish line if not in style then with enthusiasm!

Part 1, Part 2

- Odo looked as if he could use a spell in his bucket; I had rarely seen him looking so run-down.

<3 I love one goo man 

“I’d better get this information to Captain Sisko,” Odo decided.

“Would you rather I tell him?” I offered. Odo looked positively drained; he needed to return to his liquid state.

Every time Odo is changeling-sleep deprived Garak starts to hear kill bill sirens and flash back to ‘the die is cast’. It is kind of sweet that he seems to be worried for his friend and not trying to gain an advantage or sneak around here tho. 

The ironies of the situation both amused and irritated me. Here I was, the invaluable decoder of Cardassian encryptions containing life-and-death information for the Federation—and they won’t trust me with the code to wake up Captain Sisko. Ah well, it was never easy being a Cardassian on this suspended chunk of desolation. And then I laughed out loud. But what about Odo? The last time I looked he was a changeling, a member of the race of Founders that was determined to destroy the Alpha Quadrant. Not only did he have the captain’s wake-up code, he also slept with the station’s second-in-command.

LMAO you know what fair fucking point garak. Tbf I’m sure there are some people who’ve been assuming you’ve been fucking the chief medical officer too 

But if Damar had thrown his support to the rebels … if it wasn’t a ploy… I wanted my revenge on him, yes, but not at the expense of liberating Cardassia. And it wasn’t just liberating the planet from the control of a foreign power. It was closer… more personal. I wanted something that was even more difficult to attain—redemption.

The doors opened, and once again I was alert as I stepped into the deserted corridor and moved past the sleeping quarters to my own. It was time, I kept repeating in my head. It was time to take our place among the planets and peoples of the Alpha Quadrant as a civilized and open society. It was time to repair the damage. “A stitch in time saves….” What? What was that expression?

*pats him very gently and lovingly on the head* This man can unironically fit so much character development in him

“You’re Khon-Ma, aren’t you?” She didn’t respond. “Being the only Cardassian on this station, I expected you a long time ago. What kept you?”

She should shoot you actually just for this

I stopped. What’s the point, I thought. All the stories were beginning to run together and they all had the same ending.

Smoking gun of ‘hm I think there might be some unreliable narration still lingering here’ lol. In a way all but openly admitting that like this is probably more like telling the truth for garak than telling the actual truth would be. From how we see him interact with Toran in the show I buy that the emotional truth about this is basically as he tells it tho — I think he’s angry and disgusted with himself more for having been unable to stop something from happening and taking that as being as responsible for it as the asshole who caused it, rather than actively making it happen himself. That’s the kind of pattern he has in so many other places in his life too, trying to navigate in the very limited space and with the very limited agency being submissive to personalities like Tain and Toran leaves you. 

“And they were all killed,” she said even more softly.

“End of story, Remara.” I considered telling her how I had exacted my own revenge upon Toran, and that my only regret was that his death hadn’t come sooner… but what was the point? Another treacherous opportunist dies after tearing another hole in the fabric. What’s gained except the potential for more damage? I rose. The station’s gravity felt like it had increased threefold.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. One way or the other I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Who gave the order?” she asked.

“What difference does it make? I did, if you like.”

Remara just looked at me. She lowered the phaser. Part of me was deeply disappointed. 

The ‘has he been thinking with his horny brain this whole time or is he passive-actively suicidal’ conundrum. I suppose there’s nothing saying it can’t be both but I also think it’s more on the second side than he’d like anyone to know. I guess there’s no easy way to tell the guy who saved your life that you don’t really care that much for said life most days, and if you were offered some plausible deniability…

“You’re going to have to leave this station. They’ll keep coming after you until someone succeeds. Goodbye, Elim.” She put her hand against the side of my face, and I felt the heat coming through. Perhaps her passion was a curse as a terrorist, but she was a whole person … and she had found redemption.

Chewing on the idea of being a whole person vs. ‘unfinished man’ and ‘mosaic person’ 

- Gul Toran is someone Tain has warned me to monitor periodically.

Ah so Four Lubak is the future Gul Toran (the asshole in the Natima Lang ep if I remember correctly)! I see. That also means his snarking about Toran being made Gul is entirely performative he’s known about it for years lmao that was literally just to be a bitch  yes wonderful

- The fact that Tain has an evil Romulan twin/soulmate and they hate each other fdskjfhdsa

- So interesting that it does take until middle-age and Palandine’s extended presence in his life before Garak’s sense of humor really emerges fully. It seems such an integral part of him in the show, it sure is Something that it basically had to be carefully tended to and supported like a lil flower by careful gardener’s hands (thank you Palandine I’m sorry your life is a nightmare) 

- But I must confess that the toast proposed by proconsul Merrok left me feeling much better about the whole affair.

. . . 

“At first I couldn’t think why you hated him,” I confessed.

“I don’t hate anyone, Elim,” he carefully explained. “I have a job to do—and sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate those enemies who can’t otherwise be dissuaded. And he was determined to block our interests at every juncture.”

“I don’t hate anyone” says man composed of about 98% hate per volume

“Oh yes, my boy—yes, you did excellent work. A job well done.” He had never complimented me with such unconditional enthusiasm. It was almost a demonstration of paternal pride.

“You see, I had this planned for a long time, Elim. But Tolan wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t take on the assignment, and he wouldn’t pass on the information. But thankfully he trusted you, Elim.” Tain patted me on the shoulder, which meant I was dismissed.

Weaponizing Tolan’s memory against him. Fucked Up. 

- Fear and isolation, Doctor. You can’t have one without the other. Fear isolates and isolation is fear’s natural home. Just as my orchids need carefully prepared soil to protect them against disease and pests, fear needs the isolated circumstances to deepen and grow without connective or relational interference. When fear is allowed to flourish in its dark and lonely medium, then any evil that can be conceived by the fearful imagination will emerge.<

This whole chapter is so fucking good, and it starts slapping right from the beginning. The way this works not only as a description of the larger crimes of Cardassia, but also the shape of his own life. 

‘My orchids’ is very sweet, and a phrasing that occurs several times. 

My feelings are spent, my moral rationalizations are empty, and I can’t say it’s not my problem when I’m pulling and lifting and throwing bodies of people who once only wanted to go about the business of their lives.

His life has been a series of violent deconstruction followed by reassembly of the broken pieces, and this should have been the most shattering of all but it comes across as almost peaceful. He finally gets to have his soul to himself enough to make something meaningful with it and put it together in his own time and in the shape of his own truth, even in the middle of such a painful realization.  

Colonel Kira once told me how many Bajorans died during the Cardassian Occupation, and my mind rejected the figure like a piece of garbage. We’d been in the service of the state, I had told myself, and the state had determined what was necessary. But now I understand why she hated me. More important, I now understand that constant burning, almost insane look in her eyes.

. . . 

Most of us who are left, Doctor, are insane. We have to be in order to survive and emerge from our isolation. It’s the only way we can live with the pain of what we did. Or didn’t. Each of us accepts the amount of responsibility we are capable of bearing. Some accept nothing, and these people are quickly swallowed by their isolation, their insanity transformed into a rationalized evil. A smaller group accepts total responsibility, and their insanity is an unbearable burden that cripples and eventually grinds them down. The rest of us carry what we can and leave the rest. For myself, Doctor, when a corpse is too heavy to bury I try to remember to ask someone to help me.

This man can hold so much fucking character development 2 electric boogaloo and HOW!! Imagine early seasons Garak saying anything like this! Even while I’ll also buy that early seasons Garak does have the capacity to get to this point in the end after enough work. AND the way it goes with his dream of Cardassia as a mass grave earlier/later on in the book — which also sort of indicates that the person he’s asked to ‘bury these bodies with’, as it were, before, was specifically Bashir. ‘You taught me to ask for help’. I’m so fucking soft for all the ways Garak is showing him that he touched his life in the very best and most beautiful way anyone could, no matter where they go from here.  

- “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just trying to reconcile statistical analysis with Romulan gardens.” We lapsed into a long, stony silence. Usually she knew better than to expect a real answer when she did ask about my working life. We both tried not to venture into certain personal spaces; often the attempt functioned as a barrier. I’m sure she knew that I was more than a data analyst at the Hall of Records. She also understood that the less she knew about what I did the more chance our relationship had to survive. For the same reason I never asked about Lokar. The less information, the less damage if either one of us was betrayed.

Garak that’s kind of sloppy, of course she knows something’s up if you’re making it that easy to figure out lol

Another interesting detail: Palandine seemingly never learns that Tain is Garak’s biological father, then. Very emblematic of the way all those secrets were still getting between them despite their best efforts. And lending even more meaning to the fact that many years later he lets Julian find out in uh perhaps the most direct way possible haha. 

“I’m of two minds. I know, that’s just another way of saying that I’m confused.”

Huh. I wonder if the way this is phrased suggests that that’s not a common expression in Cardassian and he’s translating it directly from Standard or something, or that his uh. Mental confusion/dissociation/fragmentation pops up enough that she’s familiar with it already here? 

“Yes. What if they’re right? What if they could help us reclaim something noble in ourselves? Where does that leave us?” We stood looking at each other. The night wind gusted through the foliage and I wondered where I’d be if I didn’t have this woman’s friendship.

What a soft way to describe it. Really drives home the like. Wholeness of what she meant to him. 

“It was a while ago, Palandine. I don’t know if they’re in the same place … or if they even meet tonight.” Her enthusiasm rendered me as helpless as it did when I first met her.

Julian/Palandine parallels time yet again 

I looked at Palandine, and she now radiated with such light that I turned away, inexplicably embarrassed as if I had seen something I shouldn’t.

So sad somehow that they kind of drift apart in this scene, where Palandine finds something that helps her and he mostly seems to come away lost and confused, if cleansed. (and he still can’t cry with someone else in the room) 

After Palandine had left, I had spent the rest of the night sitting in the Grounds near the children’s area.

How is this so goddamn sad fhkjshfa. They’re still just children, and no one is going to come pick them up from the playground, no one is going to protect them

- “Yes, of course,” I replied. I took a deep breath, and my disparate parts began to snap back. 

Adrift from himseeelf. This is kind of what I meant about Palandine maybe picking up on some of his — this stuff. Which structurally pops back up in The Wire too, with how he tells the stories. 

“You look like you’re not eating anything,” Prang observed. If Tain was the father of the Obsidian Order, Prang was its mother.

LMAO. And he’s constantly worried about his saddest son I guess. Tain/Prang most cursed DS9 rarepair idea???

- His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

Lol diversity win: the mad doctor about to implant you with experimental tech is ambidextrous!

Oh. Oh no it’s the wire time. The fact that he’s one of the first agents fitted with it b/c his hindbrain distress tolerance is too worryingly low  for their comfort…

When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

HORROR SHOW CULTURE ONCE MORE and also. Praise kink revisited and made more interestingly fucked up. Also submission theme thread. 

Do you think he’d meddle with the wire eventually even if he hadn’t been exiled. I feel like there’s a non-zero chance of that.  

- I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

a) ‘what if the glass is not only half-empty but also leaking’ yes very cheery Garak and b) one of the rare times he lets not just his bitterness with Tain but also his longing to be acknowledged by him fully shine through. To me it seems like that’s the one thing that’s still too raw for him to dwell on in this narrative. He mostly doesn’t get into or sit with the pretty obvious fact that he loved Tain, and desperately wanted Tain to love him too. You can see the traces through the whole thing of just how angry he is with him now that he’s dead (GOOD! HE SHOULD BE! HE SHOULD BE ANGRIER; IF ANYTHING!), but that particular element of it seems too vulnerable to keep in sight most times

- PYTHAS IS BACK BA-BEY! 

His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas. 

And the mutual crush endures (also with me I love a sneaky little twink)

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

The way Pythas is like Garak’s shadow — except in Garak’s eyes he does everything ‘right’, he doesn’t seem to have that same aching need for connection, he follows his orders easily, he’s perfect and he reaps the rewards Garak never gets. Garak never even resents or begrudges him any of it. And yet they end up in basically the same place when all’s said and done, in the ruins of Cardassia, and Garak might even win out b/c his trials with the mortifying ordeal of being known mean he has some people in his life he’s starting to truly trust, the way Pythas seems to with Nal as well. Thinking. A lot of things. 

Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life—and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances—no family, no fixed base or identity—and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order. Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke.

Ah, so if Palandine is the proto-Julian, as it were (and Parmak is the silver fox Ersatz Julian), Pythas is definitely the anti-Julian as well as Garak’s shadow hahaha. 

- Garak is undeniably a city boy at the end of the day haha. Pythas help him out there in the jungle he doesn’t belong here I understand why you’re so worried

- In a way it was touching: the old man reverting to the mind control exercises he had learned as a child.

Garak. The warning bells. Should they perhaps be ringing merrily in your mind at this combination of words and letters. Oh well. 

- “Yes, it’s me.” I squatted so that I was at eye level. I tried to soften myself, round off all the sharp edges.

Yes yes yes this is such a good description of that Thing he does. His ‘just a lil guy/tailor/gardener/funny spy man’ move

‘Carriers of disease’ and spreading poison motifs are back. Dukat Sr. uses it here to describe cowardice/Federation ideals/hashtag the SJWs/the forces that threaten to disrupt the status quo of the fascist state. 

- I left the containment field in place and stepped outside to clear my head. No matter how objective I tried to remain, I could never remain totally unaffected by another man’s horror. Fear was a contagious disease.

This seems right to me — I don’t think anyone who could truly shrug off other people’s suffering would have to make up such webs of justification and alienation as Garak does to do what he does. Maybe that empathy is why he’s so good at it and also why it messes him up so bad over time 

His *Working 9-5 slowed down & with reverb plays softly in the background* vibe about it is undeniably kind of funny tho

Contagious disease thread cont too, and not the first time fear is spoken of that way

“Who are you?” he asked for the second time, fighting against the toxin’s effect. This was one tough old warrior.

“Your worst nightmare,” I replied.

“Ah,” he croaked. “Then Tain sent you.”

- YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE fhdkjshasjh good for you Pythas isn’t there to hear it that is so embarrassing Garak (affectionate)

- Garak dreaming of being buried with the still-whispering mass grave of Old Cardassia… what the fuck I don’t think I’d sleep ever again after that haha

Of all of the people he dreams of, most of them are dead (or potentially soon about to be dead? Not entirely sure how that works out for Mila in particular. And I guess we technically don’t know if Calyx is dead, but after so long it seems very likely), except as we find out later Pythas. And Palandine isn’t there. 

NO. NO YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS CALL JULIAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT  W H A  T 

“It’s not a medical emergency. Please, I realize this is an imposition.” There was a silence and I heard another voice in the background. Ezri Dax. A muffled conversation. The Doctor cleared his throat again.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

This is so melancholy I want to disappear into a puddle of quiet yearning and never come back to solid form just put me in a bucket like the Odo. 

This is also the first time in this book Garak has asked Julian for help rather than Julian trying to approach him to give him help (and being rebuffed). He’s called for and he comes :’)

He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young.

Soft little detail time yet again. Garak has been sitting across Julian for years just looking at this face and picking out new details. 

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” he quoted.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.

“Hmmh.” I nodded in agreement, surprised that for once the author of the politically misguided Julius Caesar made sense.

Fhdskhfskjdfhsdjak you say that as if you didn’t quote the politically misguided Julius Caesar to your father’s face on a burning spaceship as you for the first time truly saw that he was as fallible as anyone else and invoking Bashir’s name in the process Garak

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings—are becoming, always in the process of becoming—on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of this level. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant…. they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that….” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was your dream. Even if I was invited … you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned … buried … because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease….”

. . . 

The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me …”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate … ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live—at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ’saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program ….”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must never apologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy….”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The cliche suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot-headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

First name use…

Disease contagion imagery, and this time it’s very clearly symbolizing y’know the fascism of it all. Weirdly moving that Julian takes a moment to gently imply that the disease isn’t inherent in the people Garak loves and has loved (or in him, for that matter), but in the conditions that created them. 

There’s so much going on here idk if I could start to pick it apart yet, I may need to let this percolate in my skull for a while before I know what to say haha. I think part of it is Garak telling Julian to never apologize for showing him the full truth of himself (not least because that also lets Garak see the full truth of himself in turn), and Julian finally relaxing about. Something. He’s been ashamed about something he can finally let go of. 

‘I thought it was a dream, and kept asking myself what you were doing there’.......I will never emotionally recover from this I want to write fic specifically about this lord have mercy on me

- *Tain Voice* with your hippie bullshit and your women! 

*tiny garak voice* woman…

Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued. “Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went.

HE BECAME PROTECTIVE 

You know the way he keeps touching Tain’s arm and shoulder in The Die is Cast, like he’s steadying him or about to step in front of him to protect him or something? Yeah… he burns his hands on this stove over and over and over but he can’t stop trying to touch it :(

This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now… the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.

This is always & forever first and foremost an Enabran Tain hate zone

He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

He’s like a fucking strangle vine he just winds himself into every single part of garak’s existence and chokes the life out of it 

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

. . . 

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks.

Oof. Ow. Ack. 

“And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he was my real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

The biggest sin Garak could commit in Tain’s eyes is to dare to separate himself from him in any way; to be anything but his mirror, to act as if he has any claim to his own soul. I feel like more than what happens with Barkan right after this, this is what Tain considers the real betrayal. 

Tain has never needed to hit him or become physically violent with him to keep him under control ever since he was a very small child, he’s relied on the terrorizing force of emotional violence. And as is so often the case with emotional violence, it’s been insidious and hidden enough, kept to private spaces and in the shadows, that Tain can pretend at plausible deniability b/c like. Who’s Garak even going to tell about it, for the longest time, if a miracle happened and he even found he could? Mila, who has joined the war on emotional violence on the side of emotional violence since probably before Garak was even born? (For understandable psychological reasons, but in unforgivable ways in the role of a parent.) I wonder if ‘making him’ lose control and expose himself and his violence for what it is like this (in public, even!) is also part of what he can’t forgive Garak for. This ah ‘slip-up’ is the first big crack we see in Tain’s image of perfect implacable control (which is very much still the impression you’re left with in Garak’s stories in The Wire too), in the same way that Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast completely breaks that image down. He is getting old. He stayed in the game too long in the end and his iron grip is starting to slip and everything he’s forced to stay in place starts to slip out of that order with it.

Characterizing what Tolan was doing as ‘living with another man’s wife’ is SUCH a subtle burn tho lol like yeah maybe after the strictures of our society you SHOULD have married the mother of your child instead of outsourcing all your decency to the said mother’s BROTHER, Tain 

Aside from anything else going on here (and there is a lot going on)... does Tain even know who Garak is at all, just on a personal level? Why, after knowing him for like 40+ years at this point, presumably, would you expect him to have aspirations or the natural inclination towards leadership, have you ever met him??? He’s one of nature’s perfect right hand men (well. Maybe not entirely nature’s, Tain did this to him very deliberately on top of some basic natural tendencies lol), he’ll get you whatever you ask of him and I think organizing a team under him for you could be part of that when need be, but never has he shown the least inclination towards leadership. (In fact, despite longing for the recognition coming out on top would get him from daddy I mean his peers, he seems vaguely relieved each time Pythas gets to sit in the big important chair instead of him.) He isn’t Tain’s mirror, for all he dutifully tries to move in the ways that make it seem like he is. And Tain should be smart enough to know that, if the narcissism didn’t completely blot out his sight in this situation, and/or it’s just the ‘setting him up to fail and then acting outraged when he does’ pure maliciousness reaching its apex.

(In a kinder time and a kinder world I think Garak could have a real nice time being one of nature’s extremely devoted Partners rather than simply right hand man. And I would like to see it please)  

“From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.”

Oh, that’s the Entek of Second Skin, probably. Wish you a very ‘get vaporized for not knowing when to quit’ in the future entek 

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune … everything changed beyond recognition…. And yet … there was no anger, no self-pity … no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty … and free.

Listen to that voice maybe garak (not that I think there IS any way out at this point or that there ever has been in truth, that’s kind of the tragedy of the whole thing, tain would never ever have let go of him)

- Mila goodbye time: 

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

Mother and son having a Carefully Extremely Civil conversation lol

“Do you know the circumstances … Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

This running thread that almost despite himself he understands and empathizes with her and her situation too much to be as angry with her as he probably should be. He understands her better than she understands him (than she could allow herself to understand him, even if she had the ability to). 

I think that these apparently contradictory elements of his personality are part of what makes him feel so real in some ways, too — interpersonally he can be incredibly petty and jealous and judgemental AND almost absurdly forgiving and generous, sometimes seemingly simultaneously, somehow. The classic containing multitudes meme but like forreals tho haha. That is what real people are like too. 

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn…” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight.

. . . 

Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry … with me. He wants me never to see her again and … to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own … thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

The mother/child relationship here is… y’know I talk a lot about Garak’s daddy issues for obvious reasons, but the fact that his mother recoils in fear when he tries to engage some sliver of real emotional intimacy with her prrrrrobably did some similar amounts of shaping him huh haha. (and he does this too in many ways — that’s partially where his trouble with Julian comes from in this book, whenever Julian tries to get too close Garak flinches away or counterattacks, for all that he clearly longs for it as well.)

The  roundabout way you can tell her love for him even so tho. ‘I don’t care about her’. Palandine is not her baby, Elim, you are. Mila hasn’t been left with the luxury of love to spare for someone she doesn’t even know when you’re setting yourself up for destruction right in front of her eyes…. 

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.”

Palandine/Bashir parallels once more and I really mean it!! There used to be a little Palandine in his head the way there’s a little Julian in there now. (and sadly she doesn’t seem to be there anymore, or maybe he’s just integrated what he got from her and let the rest go for both of their sakes, the same way he let Mila the regnar go when it was time.) 

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability—”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice,” I answered.

“Yes. That’s the one.” She made a sighing sound as she stood up. Mila was heavier now, and moved with greater deliberation. She, too, had grown old. “I suggest you reread it.”

“Tain always came first, didn’t he? I suppose that was your never-ending sacrifice.” I no longer reined in the irony.

I’m CRYING this is SUCH a mom thing to do. Her teen son came home with a book he waxed poetic about and she read it to try to understand him and never told him until now. 

Also: disease contagion theme thread! To Mila, it seems to be tied in with the sentiment reading of it — the way her child’s suffering stains all her safe stable justifications and rationalizations that she needs to stay alive in this system. The remaining humanity that can’t be completely stamped out, even by Tain and a lifetime of fuckery. The ‘imperfections’ of life that can’t be subsumed completely into order. 

Garak I think it’s better if you don’t recommend that book to people it clearly leads to disappointing interpersonal outcomes every time haha

“Tolan understood and accepted his obligations,” Mila said coldly. “But he was sentimental. Like you. That was the one thing Enabran worried about.”

I smiled in sad recognition. Sentimental. Yes, Tain and Mila had definitely shared their confidences and judgments with each other.

“But I don’t blame Tolan. He was a good man.” Mila watched me as I rose.

“Yes. So you keep saying.” I wanted to leave.

“She’s nothing but trouble for you, Elim. End it now. Do what Enabran says and reclaim your rightful place.”

“My place,” I repeated.

“Now, Elim. Otherwise you’re in real danger,” she warned with a certainty that reminded me of the time she’d brought me to Tain after I’d left Bamarren. Mila always knew what was at the heart of the never-ending sacrifice.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, too weary for irony.

“What did you expect from me?”

“To be honest, I can’t remember,” I answered. “Have a pleasant trip.” I smiled and bowed.

“What did you expect from me?”/“To be honest, I can’t remember,” is THE realest description I’ve seen of a mother/child relationship. This might say more about me than I should be comfortable with probably but still. 

“Let Limor know if you’ll be living here.” I nodded. Yes, I thought, that would be my answer. My choice. She shook out her smock to determine whether or not to put it back on.

“Mila.” She looked at me and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for my question.

“Who was Tolan?”

“My brother.” She decided to wear the smock, and I left.

I am SO FUCKING SAD. She puts the smock back on. That’s the closest thing to keeping either of them she gets to have, just the second hand reminder that they were there, small and innocuous enough that no one will know and no one can blame her. In the end Tain takes everything else, and she lets him because it’s the only way to survive him. GET OUT OF THERE ELIM PLEASE 

- On an impulse, instead of leaving immediately, I went down the corridor to Tain’s old office. The door was open, and I stopped at the threshold just as Pythas looked up from a now much cleaner desk. He smiled shyly and stood up.

“Please come in, Elim,” he offered. What surprised me was how pleased I was to see him. Just as I had felt he was the only other person who deserved to be One Lubak, I now believed he was the only other person who deserved to occupy this office.

He smiled shyly did he fhskja. Also Garak’s enduring lack of bitterness towards Pythas is amazing. ‘Yeah I would be mad but he really is that good if it had to be anyone it should be him’

- She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary. 

I’m so fucking glad Barkan is about to eat it for good. I only wish it could have gone slower and more painfully for him. 

I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will.

‘Disparate parts’ motif (dare we say mosaic motif?) detected

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now. 

Barkan’s life is just being haunted by fifty shades of Garak’s shit eating grin apparently 

“Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.

. . .

“But you’re a failure, Elim. You even failed in your attempt to assassinate me.”

“I didn’t fail with Palandine,” I said quietly.

LMAO gottem 

The chemical makeup of Garak’s brain during Barkan’s beating should probably have been studied by science it must be the strangest rave in there

The others were there—my fellow travelers, their voices murmuring tonelessly, producing a steady sound that permeated the medium and intensified our connection. Their voices speaking to me. Their faces, serene and loving, illuminating the darkness as they floated by. Everyone I have ever known. Family. Faces from childhood. Bamarren. People I had known briefly. People I have known forever. Loved. Hated. We were all just together now, sharing the same nurturing medium as we traveled along our currents until we gradually separated.

This… near-death hallucination or spiritual experience or whatever it is vs. his mass grave dream later… very birth vs. death themed

Faces formed and reformed. Each one superimposed on the next in a long line emerging from blackness. Maladek. Merrok…. The molecular structure of one giving way to the next…. Procal Dukat. Tolan. Floating into focus, receding back into the darkness. I shook my head, trying to stop the flow. The Hebitian mask. My face. I grabbed my “face” and screamed into it. The flow stopped. The molecules rushed together and instantly formed Barkan Lokar’s death mask.

I think maybe something came a tiny little bit completely untethered in his head in a way it’s been threatening to for a long time in this moment. It may just be my imagination tho who’s to say

- “Elim Garak. How the mighty have fallen. Welcome to Terok Nor.”

“Oh, I try to visit even our humblest outposts, Dukat.”

“This is going to be more than a visit, trust me. You’ll soon wish that the execution had not been commuted.”

a) ah garak/dukat sniping my old friend b) It seems Tain never spoke to him in that whole process, so that time in the park was probably the last time before ‘Improbable Cause’?. I’m only surprised he didn’t give Dukat the neutral face of displeasure to convey to Garak second hand honestly 

- “I’m sure you gave him a more ennobling position,” I said.

“He was executed,” the toady replied.

“A promotion of sorts,” I muttered. “Certainly in this place.”

The passionate enduring Garak/Terok Nor hateship off to an immediate and roaring start

- Real ‘he gave them the heebie jeebies. He had nothing else left to give’ vibes on garak in this part of his life 

- He arched his brows in a manner that told me he’d worked long and hard in front of a mirror.

There’s always time to appreciate some good Dukat dunking

“Your life means nothing to me. Just as my father’s meant nothing to you.”

“I beg your pardon? Do I know your father?” Dukat made a move to grab me and immediately stopped himself. I was impressed by his self-control; I knew how much energy fueled his hatred.

“No offense,” I went on, further testing his control. “Of course, Procal Dukat was a famous military figure. We all mourned his passing. But I never had the pleasure personally….”

At his most miserable, but also his funniest. It IS really interesting that his humor only really reaches its current state here, when he’s lost Palandine and everything else in his life. It’s almost like the only remaining way to be close to her. 

No, I decided that I was not going to sacrifice myself to Dukat’s desire for revenge. I would do this work; I would do it so well as to become indispensable to the station… and I would survive. I refused to be buried alive in this humiliation.

‘Sort of suicidal: yes; willing to go down in history as one of Dukat’s Ws… fuck no’

- I pick up their garments and mend them flawlessly. When they complain that the price is steep (because I’m treated like a slave doesn’t mean I’m going to start undervaluing my work), I just give them the smile—the smile she taught me.

Fdsahfasj hilarious. You go Garak you know your worth

- (About Pythas and Palandine) At this moment I am almost afraid to discover that they’d survived. A part of me has wanted to bury that part of my life. The defenses I set up to survive my exile are obviously still intact.

I am often joined on my walks by Dr. Parmak. He’s a charming conversationalist, with a first-rate mind. His perspectives are always provocative. He does, however, have a tendency to proselytize for Alon Ghemor and the “Reunion Project” (the name they’ve given their group to remind people of the principles that formed the original Union). Whenever we encounter other pedestrians along our route, Parmak engages them and attempts to win them over to the Reunion side. This often makes for spirited exchanges, and although I am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain, I rather enjoy this peripatetic politicking. It’s something I would never have done on my own. In some respects he is so much like you, Doctor. If I’ve found someone’s opinion insufferably boring, he’ll kindly but sternly lecture me on the value of tolerance.

The wistful longing of ‘in some respects he’s so much like you’. ‘Although i am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain’. ‘Charming conversationalist’, is he. Garak you are a nonsense person and I adore you 

One day I asked him how he had been brought to Enabran Tain’s attention. He never struck me as being a dangerous radical. It turns out that he was Tain’s personal physician, and that the great man had him interrogated because, the Doctor assumed, “he was concerned that I was in an ideal position to assassinate him.”

“I think he was more threatened by the fact that you were intimate with his weaknesses,” I pointed out.

“Well, certainly his physical infirmities,” he admitted.

“Which are also a man’s weaknesses,” I reminded him.

“The paranoia, the secrets, the power he held….” The doctor shook his head. “He must have been a difficult man to work for.” I smiled at his understated tact.

“He once tried to have me killed,” I said.

“Really? What did you do, Elim?”

“I survived.” The Doctor gave me a confused look.

“Survived … what?” he asked.

“Working for my father,” I replied. The Doctor stopped and just looked at me. His former fear of my eyes was long gone.

“A father who would murder his own son?” The idea horrified him. We were in the Barvonok Sector, where the tall structures of business and finance once dominated. “Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, this time with an empathy that stripped me of any illusions I had about Enabran Tain as a father. Surrounded by the piles of debris, oppressed by the low leaden sky, I finally began to surrender to the loneliness and loss that has preyed upon my dreams ever since I can remember. Even nothing is better than the ideas that have brought us here.

Go on without me I’ll be over here crying my eyes out 

- I wonder if Limor Prang was one of the people killed in Tain’s Obsidian Order purge in Improbable Cause. If he  was still alive that seems pretty likely huh. Well. RIP terrifying team mom I guess.  

- Garak got his business up and running for real through a deal with Quark! Puts some of their interactions into perspective haha

I don’t do well with the kind of emotional exchanges humans seem to engage in regularly, and I have little sympathy for those who confuse the responsibilities of family with their duty to the state; but I confess that I am deeply moved by this woman’s plight.

Well it’s good the guy you have a thing for was raised British then he’ll probably feel pretty much the same way you’re perfect for each other

At one point she looked at me and asked me to hold her. I did. As I tentatively put my arms around her, I was so afraid of her need that I tried to keep her body at a distance. She would have none of it. She collapsed against me, and the sobs that convulsed and rolled through her body found correspondence in mine. I bit my tongue until I could taste blood in the effort not to surrender. Gratefully, the door to the Promenade was closed.

He keeps claiming he doesn’t care for the human tendency towards displays of emotionality even as we see it draw him in like a stupid horny sentimental moth to the flame repeatedly. The lizard doth protest too much methinks

- Unless I have business I rarely go to Quark’s; I have little tolerance for noise and stupidity. So when he saw me he assumed that I had another proposition, and I observed him shift into his engage mode.

Fun to see how this changes over the years, then! By the ca. Season 7 part of the book he has a few regular tables and everything. Also isn’t it so sweet that his kind of snotty attitude about this has not changed at all since Bamarren haha <3

- “The dead are dead. Those of us left—who believe in the ideals that have guided our race for millennia—are faced with the threat of utter annihilation by the very disease that has brought us to this sad place. Federation ideas will finish the work the Dominion began.”

Disease/contagion imagery (This is Legate Parn speaking, and he’s basically espousing the same view as Dukat Sr. As far as he’s concerned the call is not and never has been coming from inside the house thank you ever so much lol)

On the other side of Madred was Nal Dejar, a sharp-faced, saturnine woman who had been a member of my last cell at the Order. She once came to Deep Space 9 on an assignment with two scientists, and refused to make any contact with me. Judging from her averted look, she was still refusing. Next to her was a man with a severely disfigured face that was still recovering from what appeared to be burns. One eye was completely covered, and I was careful not to be rude in my inspection.

OH so it’s the lady who came along with Gilora and Ulani! The one who does not care for foreign food 

Gul Ocett was persuasive in her quiet and reasoned strength. Indeed, the irony, Doctor, is that she was espousing the very argument I had made to you any number of times. Even now there was a part of me that accepted the logic of her argument, especially when coming from someone who was neither a fool nor an opportunist.

While you were stealth mentoring Julian in having enough spysmarts not go and get his beautiful twink ass killed at the first opportunity he was stealth mentoring you in the political and ideological underpinnings of democracy and the possibility of being loved BITCH!!!!

I simply smiled at him, genuinely amused by his amateur attempts to discredit me. I was surprised by my responses. I was here to play the role of double agent, and I found that as the meeting went on I didn’t have the energy for the requisite guile and misdirection.

Fdkjfhdsa ‘Aw. That’s cute’. He just doesn’t have it in him to work up the energy for cloak and dagger bullshit and it’s so good and so funny 

And then a strange sensation went through me, Doctor. I looked at the faces of these people. Here we are, I thought, sitting in the basement of a ruined civilization and conducting business as if nothing significant had changed. The enemies were still the same, somewhere “out there,” plotting how to “destroy our character” and colonize us with their political system. And we were down in the basement with our own plots and shifting alliances, tenaciously holding on to the very ideas that had brought us here. But what ideas, Doctor? There’s nothing left. Only fantasies of power. These faces with their masks. With the ironic exception of the disfigured face, the masks hadn’t changed. They reflected the usual range of hidden agendas, each competing for dominance and ascendancy with an energy commensurate to the amount of fear and self-loathing that fueled and motivated that person. I started to laugh.

Amazing showstopping revolutionary good for you Garak

It was him, Doctor. It was Pythas.

EIGHT MY BELOVED WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

“Thank you, Gul Madred, but I can find my way out.” I bowed to the company, and turned my back on them.

I continue to be so proud of him I have no words. And also this is why I don’t like Castellan Garak as a concept AT ALL. Leave him alone to his orchids and sewing and doctor fucking he’s been through enough he doesn’t need that in his life anymore he can do other things to help. Parmak and Julian would stage an intervention. 

- Oh my GOD the cardassians literally just left terok nor without him overnight like Sid’s family in Ice Age fhdskjafh

Garak has been combining the wire AND being a barely functional alcoholic all this time. So at any given time in the first two season the chances that he is not only high but also profoundly drunk are overwhelmingly likely. This explains a lot.  

Rom had a sensitivity, almost a delicacy that was totally lacking in his brother. Was there such a thing as a typical Ferengi? Most people judged him to be simple, as if simplicity was somehow a substandard quality.

Aw. Also maybe some hints as to his reconciliation with Tolan’s memory. 

“Well, Rom, the trousers and tunic fit quite well, don’t you think?” I pulled the tunic down at the back. “Don’t wear it so far up on the neck; it ruins the line. And I’d be grateful if you’d tell any interested parties that indeed I’m still here and very much open for business.”

“Oh, yes … yes! And I like….” Rom made a broad, awkward gesture toward his new ensemble. I thanked him, and we walked out onto the Promenade, as if it were just another business day. We said goodbye, and I watched him march proudly through the ragged celebrants. I had a fondness for him. It was an odd relief, especially at this moment, to converse with someone who literally meant everything he said. 

T________________________T surprise most wholesome dynamic continues to wreck me. 

He stood for a moment, studying me, trying to divine why I had not been allowed to join the withdrawal. Unlike the others who assumed that because I was a Cardassian I had a choice, Odo knew that I’d been abandoned.

“Was there any damage or theft?” he asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew little about Constable Odo, but I was confident that he would never ask me questions that went beyond his function as security chief. He kept his distance and carried himself like someone who understood exile.

Odo appreciation moment as this is his last appearance in the book. Here’s to the small part of the fascist hivemind that harnessed those impulses towards the aim of becoming the world’s best and beigest mall cop. Unproblematic? No. But sometimes you simply love a good problem. 

The fact that the narrative of this section ends right before Garak meets Julian. Probably a matter of weeks, max. You big sentimental sap lmao

- Parmak, Ghemor, and I stood silently among the formations, inspecting the results of our work in the first light.“I mean no disrespect, Elim,” the Doctor said, “but the memorial looks even better.” I nodded in agreement.

“Please, Doctor,” I replied. “ ‘Restoration’ is fine for artifacts and museum pieces. When it comes to building a new community, I think what we did tonight is more to the point.”

“And we did it without murdering each other,” Ghemor added.

“How un-Cardassian of us,” I observed.

This all rules btw . Restoration is fine for artifacts and museum pieces it’s not for things that are alive. Gardener vs. architect/collector, Tolan vs. Tain. 

Alon said: “I think we should get some rest before the competition begins. We’ve done what we can.” It was a wise suggestion, but each of us knew that we were taking a step into the unknown, and sleep at this point was not really a choice. We had done what we could, and probably it was best if each of us retired to the privacy of his own thoughts. We said our goodnights, and as I watched them leave I felt an enormous gratitude that I had been given the opportunity to work with these men. Once again in my life I felt that I had been resurrected from the dead.

Nodding and crying gif. Yeah. Yeah… you’ve done all you could and no one could ask anything more of you. 

- “You know, Elim, I’m neither a soldier nor a politician. I’m a doctor.”

“I do know that. I also know that we’ve been betrayed by our previous leaders. Our only hope is that men like yourself can offer an alternative.”

“But you have the expertise that can….”

“Doctor, I have the expertise that comes from survival and compromise. There’s already plenty of that on the other side … and it’s not an alternative that will create a new and lasting union.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“You’re a doctor, yes, and that’s your strength. I’ve learned something about your profession over the past several years. Don’t think like a politician. Think of the planet as a patient barely hanging on to life. Think like a doctor. How would you save this planet?” He considered what I’d said in his careful manner.

Just as it is vital for a person like Garak to have a little Julian Bashir who lives in his head, it’s probably also good for the Bashirs and Parmaks of the world to develop a little Garak who lives in their heads to go ‘yeah that sounds real nice in theory but now imagine that there are in fact bad people in this world (I should know) who’ll interact with that theory and then act accordingly’ . Garak realizing where he belongs in this whole process tho… 

“Ah, Doctor,” I stopped him. “You can’t go to your meeting like that.”

“Like what?” he asked with a puzzled look. Without explaining, I helped him out of his worn outer coat and showed him a ragged tear in the fabric. Despite his protests, I made him sit down and wait while I gathered my sewing kit and repaired the tear.

“Appearances are very important to these people. You can’t let them think you’re oblivious to details,” I said, as I reunited the torn and separated threads.

The Mila fussing-as-a-love language of it all…

- (About Pythas) The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should include him in a chant for the dead.

DAMN but also YEAH

- I moved to the constructed formation that stood in the space formerly occupied by Tain’s study and almost directly above where Mila’s body had been sadly abandoned in the basement. When I was a boy, I had unending dreams that centered around the memorials of Tarlak. As I lay on my pallet in the basement of Tain’s house, I would plan the scenario that would play out when Tolan took me with him to Tarlak. It would always involve me as the hero paying homage to a comrade fallen in a battle where we had both distinguished ourselves. I would tell the gathered assembly of notables every detail of the battle; people would weep, cheer, listen in stunned amazement as I explained how we had saved the Union from certain destruction. When I had finished, Mila and Tolan would escort me through the adoring crowd. What a terrible irony, Doctor, that those forbidding, impersonal memorials to the heroes of the Cardassian Union should ultimately become transformed into these ragged formations on the grounds of my childhood home … and that I would sit here, a middle-aged man, trying to mourn a fallen comrade who was still standing but barely recognizable. And yet, the irony of a Cardassia reborn with the help of a memorial built from the remains of Tain’s home didn’t escape me either.

Taking immense psychic damage with every word. When do you stop wanting your mom and dad to come pick you up and take you home, even when they’re both dead and kind of not your parents anymore in two different ways even before that? Never, probably 

- “What changed your mind?”

“Your friends, Elim. Very impressive people … and persuasive.”

“What had you expected?” I asked.

“The usual amateurs who never understood what was at stake … the hard choices that had to be made,” [Pythas] explained. “To be honest, I had thought your attachment to this Reunion Project was….”

“Sentimental,” I finished. He smiled knowingly at the reference.

CACKLING. All but openly saying ‘yeah I thought it’s was because you’re fucking the doctor and I know exactly what a god-awful simp you are’ fhskdjafhaskjdh

“As I listened to him speak of the responsibility that we had as survivors to the life that remained, I also realized how bitter and hardened I had become.” He stopped and looked back to Nal Dejar, as if he were making sure she was still there. She met his eyes with a communication I couldn’t decipher, and he nodded. “Nal nursed me back to where I could function … part of me wished she hadn’t. Until your doctor spoke about healing … on every level. It’s what the body wants, he told us … unless we choose otherwise.” Pythas sat with his head bowed for a long moment. “I’d become very bitter, Elim.” I sat on a rock across from him and gently put my hand on his. What was it about this place, I wondered.

Hmngh. ‘I’d become very bitter, Elim’. No matter what choices they made along the way, where they fucked up or where they did everything right, they both ended up in basically the same place, embittered and broken, until someone touched their life with kindness. Nal is Pythas’ Julian Bashir. Coming back to life not as an act of will but because there’s someone waiting for you there saying ‘I’ll help you through it’. 

“Do you know where Palandine is?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Is she still alive?”

In the darkness, it was difficult to read the expression in his one good eye. The silence that followed my question was broken only by his rasping breath. Behind her mask of disinterest Nal Dejar was studying me carefully. Even when she was a probe I was impressed by the strength of her focus. Pythas was fortunate to have her care and devotion.

I think Pythas and Nal Dejar’s whole deal could make for a really interesting story all on its own. Presumably they’ve known or at least known about each other for a long time now, since Garak has seen Nal around even though they’ve never worked together closely 

- Just enough light for lovers; just enough light to begin he says, only to open the next chapter/epilogue with ‘My dear Doctor’ and explaining how he finally decided to send the letter. Healing on every level? Maybe? If we’re real lucky??? 

- My dear Doctor:

Again, forgive my further tardiness in sending this—I don’t even know what to call it. Memoirs of a Cardassian tailor? I suppose that’s as accurate a description as any. You see, Doctor, I seriously debated whether or not I should send this to you. As I went over it I wondered who this mawkish and self-serving person was. Grow up! I wanted to tell him. Get on with your life.

Well, I am; and sending this to you is going to further that cause. As I said, I’m an unfinished man reassembling the pieces of a broken world, and I have asked you to be a witness because you would never judge me as harshly as I judge myself. You would never deny me the opportunity of a second chance.

I feel like those last two sentences are the most important ones in this whole book — it’s what all the rest of it is built on, what made any of it possible. And also it will haunt me for the rest of my days but like in a good life-affirming way lol

His playful grousing about ugh your vaunted democracy *eyeroll*  <3<3<3<3 come down to cardassia so you can have spirited debates turned makeout sessions/foreplay about it already julian please he’s setting you up for so many slam dunks here

I live with my orchids, which have unified and softened the increasingly popular grounds of my home. Their beguiling blooms, and the presence of children who come to play among the structures (as I did in Tarlak), help to dispel the somber mood that initially hung like those clouds of dust over our world. The sounds of their voices as they play function as a music that never fails to lighten my work. The children call it the “tailor’s grounds,” and the name has caught on. Yes, Doctor, I continue to work at my “new” profession. As you can imagine, there’s a good deal of mending to be done.

TAIN’S HOUSE TURNED INTO JUST ‘THE TAILOR’S GROUNDS’ BY THE VOICES OF PLAYING CHILDREN Y_____Y I hope enabran ‘let history be my judge’ tain gets forgotten for anything but his massive fuckup and that garak works some magic with what little fabric he has at his disposal to make the neighbourhood kids like. Stuffed toys he sews clothes for and he’s known as the person to go to when one is damaged so he can patch it back up good as new  while teary little faces watch intently and then brighten. Julian seriously pretends to be his medical consultant as they perform teddy bear operations, what with his extensive expertise in the field and excellent bedside manner. No arm is too amputated to be reattached and we can always find a good button to replace Mr. Tinny’s missing eye in fact he’ll see even better now. I have such hopes for them I have such dreams 

 I have expanded my shed in the never-ending quest to find my place. I feel that I’m getting closer, Doctor, especially as I continue to refine the structures. One, which began as a memorial to Tolan, has a crude but effective representation of the winged creature from the Hebitian sun disc—turned toward the radiating sun, reaching, striving, while the sun-fed filaments stream down from the body and connect with the bodies of people standing on a globe and looking up to the creature for this divine connection…. I’ve attached the recitation mask he gave me to the creature’s face, and somehow it has become my personal totem. I hope that someday you’ll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome, Doctor.

You are always welcome, Doctor is one of those ‘you could slap that on my gravestone and I’d be happy about it’ lines. What a ride huh 

Aside from anything else about this book (I think we can safely let this absolute monster of a three part reaction post be testament to my enjoyment and admiration right I hope I have made no secret of it lol) I want to congratulate Andrew Robinson for getting a novel-length character study written in first person (my beloved) published — as I understand it that’s normally a pretty hard sell in the publishing industry haha he was living the dream I one day fervently hope to as well and the results rule

#a stitch in time #asit #garashir #elim garak #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #julian bashir #The great ASIT first read adventure #ds9 meta #and there we go! now to think about the little julian bashir that lives in garak's head forever probably

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can you write something with a younger (older teen or young adult) sidekick who gets caught using their power to harm themselves

tw: sh

since I am not able to post much because of my beloved German internet connection, my husband helped me with this one: @epiclamer

Their first instinct was to shake the sidekick. To squeeze their shoulders and shake and shake until they would wake the fuck up and stop what they were doing.

The hero had never been good with the kid. For god’s sake, they weren’t a parent. It was too much responsibility, too much to worry about. It had never been a problem for them, their relationship to the kid had always been one of professional interest. They were here to help the hero. And since their regenerative powers had them covered, the hero didn’t have to worry about them dying.

Not in a short time of period, at least somewhere in the long run. Maybe.

But now, the hero was nearly furious.

“What are you doing?” The hero tried their damnedest not to shout. Shouting would only scare them. The sidekick was old enough — should have been old enough — to understand what kind of mistake they were making.

Upon hearing their voice, the sidekick hid their arm. They turned around, teary eyes looking to the floor.

“I—”

The hero’s voice quivered. “What are you doing?”

When the sidekick didn’t answer, the hero took a step forward. Yet, as the kid mirrored their movement and took a step back, the hero stopped.

“If there’s anything I did wrong, I—” Somehow it only crossed the hero’s mind now what this truly meant. “What is it? Please tell me. Please.”

Another step forward. Another one back. But the hero was faster this time. They caught the sidekick’s wrists, watching as the blood on their forearms trickled to the ground slowly.

“Did I do something wrong, did I…?” The hero didn’t understand. They didn’t comprehend why they would do this.

“I’m sorry—” they cried. They fell into the hero’s arms hugging them tightly. But the hero was frozen, barely even breathing as their brain tried to catch up.

They longed for an answer, for a reason, for anything that could explain why their beloved sidekick was doing this to themselves. Silent tears brimming their eyes and slowly falling down their cheeks.

The sidekick only hugged them tighter, trying to prod any sort of reaction out of their superior. They were never supposed to find out about this…

“Sidekick…” The hero’s throat formed a sickly feeling lump. Leaving their mouth dry and a stutter in their breaths.

“I-I’m so sorry… I’m so so so sorry…”

They shook their head, tears dropping onto their shaking sidekick. “Why. Why would you…”

Every last part of the sidekick’s heart had shattered. Watching the one they loved and admired be so upset—so disappointed—with them.

The feeling of guilt only crawled from their stomach to their throat and the sidekick tasted bile.

“I— I don’t know—”

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me.” The hero’s eyes flicked back down to their sidekick’s arm, tears blurring their vision as they clenched their jaw and ground their teeth.

They were still bleeding, most of their strength had gone into healing the wound, but their powers were susceptible to emotions and with the outburst they ran haywire. Not properly sewing back up their skin as it left jagged white lines in its wake.

It took every last fibre in the hero’s body to not lose their head. They needed to stay calm. They needed to be strong for their sidekick, like always, right?

But what if it was their fault? What if they were the reasoning behind sidekick’s self harm? Then what?

“Hero, I swear I—”

The hero took a deep breath, staring down at the blood and at their distraught friend. Settling for the decision they thought was best before they dared speak.

“We can talk later. Just please, please tell me it’s not my fault?”

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #sidekick #heroxvillain #hero x villain #tw:sh

[ivestas]

bro,,,your last ghost one,,,,head full, big thonks

what if hound!reader never went looking for simon because she thought he was dead?? or better yet, she DID look, so vigorously in fact that her superiors at the time maybe misinformed her of his death, even going as far as planting fake evidence??👁👁

also im thinking about old nicknames..,.,hitting him with the "si-guy" or "'mon-mon the man" or smth 💀

can’t say goodbye to yesterday

PART TWO TO ‘HEARTS ALIGNED’

Summary: You were deceived by the same people you fought for. You discuss it with Ghost. 

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2022 version), childhood friends, smoking, canon divergence of both the game and the oneshot, barely edited, death, lowkey konig x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: anon, you're genuinely such a GENIUS!!!! those thonks fr are gold bc now my head is full of thonks too hehe---this post will hopefully extend those clever thonks and added more??? 

You were sitting against the wall while Ghost was laying in his cot. The night had grown old, but you refused to leave him—that won’t happen again, not now, not ever. 

You were on your third cigarette, the smoke having long since coated your mouth in a thick layer of cheap tobacco and newspaper. Ghost didn’t seem to mind, laying on his side, watching you with tired eyes—more so watching the cigarette. 

Extending it forward, your head tipped to the side. “You sure you don’t want one?” 

“No. I should be sleeping.” 

“You’re eyeing my cigarette though.”

“Just lost in thought.”

“About smoking a cigarette?” 

He huffed. “No. Just...” he sat up now, the cot straining under his movement. “You’ve changed. And you also haven’t—and you haven’t told me why you didn’t search for me.”

You frowned.

“Jus’ tell me that. Tell me why. I don’t give a bloody fuck if you were just too lazy too—”

“Smoke with me and I’ll tell you everything.” Your voice was strained. 

Emotions were high, tension was thick, maybe it was foolish to think that would just dissolve by planting yourself in his room. You weren’t kids. This wasn’t just a blow-up about something dumb, and you hated it. Because at least when you were kids, the arguments were insignificant, the worst that could happen is you calling him a ‘booger-brained idiot’. 

This was real. This brought true hurt.

You were thankful when Ghost finally nodded, getting up and sitting across you on the floor. Despite sitting criss-crossed, he was huge. He towered over you. König would often shimmy away, giving you a little space—he’d bend his body downward in a vain attempt to dwarf himself.

But Ghost sat tall. He stared right at you and lifted a hand. 

You gave him the cigarette. 

You watched as he lifted the balaclava a little, setting the end at the bridge of his nose. It was just a small sliver of his face, but fuck did it strike you right at your heart. 

His face was all firm lines—carved and rigid, with the lightest scar running along his lips. 

Simon—smaller, younger Simon—had a round face. Soft cheeks, a crooked smile, unscarred.

You looked away to the side at the hard concrete wall, back pressed against it. 

A waft of smoke hit you, then a finger lightly tapped on your hands. 

You turned. Ghost was lifting the cigarette to you. 

Taking it, you murmured a quick thanks before taking a puff out of it yourself. Ghost tugged down the balaclava once more. 

“Why didn’t you search for me?” 

“I did,” you responded simply. “It was when I was younger. Naive. More trusting. You know, I searched for you every moment I got—thought you still went by ‘Simon Riley’. Even went as far as to go to the superiors and ask all nicely—told them, ‘he’s the son of that piece of shit drunkard, the one who you constantly kissed up to.’” You laugh though it’s devoid of any humor.  

Ghost only watched, listened, eyes flicking between the cigarette and your straying gaze. 

“They—they told me you were dead. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. ‘Simon Riley was killed in action a few years back’ one of them had told me, all sad-like and frowning. ‘He was a good soldier.’” You scoffed. “No fanfare, no tricks, they just—they said you were dead. Showed me a document or two, I hardly fuckin’ remember, I just... I tried to forget. Not to care.”

Your hands were shaking. You didn’t know why. Your heart was silent, so was your mind, but your body—it was moving on its own. As though shedding a deeper feeling your own mind couldn’t process. 

“So can you imagine my surprise when, just a few months ago, a man named ‘Ghost’ happens to be registered as ‘Simon Riley’ in their files? I couldn’t believe it, thought there was another Simon Riley whose from the UK, but I was curious. So... yeah. I ended up in KorTac ‘cause I heard rumors 141 was gonna come along and do some mission together.” Again, you laughed. “Then I saw you—and fuck, did I tell you how much you’ve grown? You look so different—actually can I say something weird?” 

“Yeah.” His eyes met yours. 

An unfamiliar smile formed on your lips. “It... it makes me happy, seeing you with that Scot, all grown, and... it’s hard to put into words, but it makes me feel proud. And it also hurts like a bitch.”

He hummed. “Could say the same.” 

“Then say the same. I want to hear it, Simon.”

“It makes me feel proud, and it hurts like a bitch.” 

You snorted. “Ass.”

He reached for your cigarette. You handed it to him. “So... does that clear things?” 

“Yep,” he tugged his balaclava off this time, pushing the cigarette between his lips. He’s handsome. “Shoulda guessed you’re too much of a gullible dumbass to find me.” 

“You piece of—keep talking shit and I’ll kick your ass!” You reached for the cigarette. He moved away from your reach, a shit-eating grin now plastered on his face.

“You kickin’ my ass? I’d like to see you try, pipsqueak.” 

“Don’t test me mon-mon.” 

He glared. “Mon-mon?”  

“Sorry, wait, mon mon the man—my bad, nearly forgot the whole damn title.” 

“Keep callin’ me that and I’ll be the one kicking your ass.” 

“Not gonna listen to a guy named si-guy.” 

“Shut. Up.” 

You laughed. It was dumb and childish—not even that funny, frankly—but something about Simon frowning all seriously brought it out of you. 

A moment later, the frown disappeared, and Simon handed the cigarette back with a  little smile.  

Bonus headcanons (post oneshot):

When you two were kids, you often took the role of the mature one to reign in any dumb ideas that Simon schemed, though you’d participate in them moments later. 

The roles have reversed now: you are the dumbass and Ghost tries his best to keep it under control. 

The moment you’re near Ghost, a little layer of your cold exterior melts a little and you allow yourself to drop your guard a little and be loose-lipped—though, in public or with the guys, you tone it down a little and still address him as Ghost. 

In private though? The names are everything except for Ghost. 

Si-guy, mon-mon the man, syphilis, Simon says, se-si-so-fum (fe-fi-fo-fum), etc. 

Half the time the names just don’t even correlate with his and he quickly just got used to it. 

No one really notices the change between the two of you except for Soap, who takes note of the small glances the two of you exchange like it’s a secret language that could only be communicated between you guys.

He even noticed the small brush of your hand against Ghost’s shoulder after a particularly difficult mission and he returned it moments later. 

He has no idea if your friends, lovers, or just like?? Related maybe?? even if it would make ZERO sense for that to be the case.

In regards to König, Ghost would be protective. 

He wouldn’t be shy to voice his thoughts against the relationship because he’s seen how monstrous König could be on the battlefield and worries that he’s just hiding that ‘true persona’ of his for whatever reason. 

Also because he’s possessive; he’s convinced himself he’s just looking after you but he doesn’t like the idea of you straying away again but this time for some other guy. 

He also doesn’t know if he likes you romantically or not: he likes you, but he has no idea if the strength comes from a romantic pull or if it’s just platonic. He just wants you close. 

Also, both of you know each other’s tells; old habits die hard, and the tells you both had of discomfort from childhood still exist to this day.

Simon would go quiet and have a very specific stare that just kind of... glazes over. It’s dissociative.

You’d gently pry him out of that state with uncharacteristically soft words, making random observations or jokes. 

Whenever you're in a similar state, he'd just sit beside you and kind of lean in—he might just straight up grab your hand and squeeze if no one is nearby.

Overall, to any outsider, you guys would just appear to be comrades with the same layers of cold and bile, but in reality, you guys have history.

Despite the time that had passed, you'd still call each other the best of friends.

You're satisfied with that, but Ghost is unsure if he wants something more.

Until then, he'll just shoot König glares until he figures out what he really wants.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#fr thank you anon this is SO GOOD. #i literally put everything down to write this #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader

[pradaxstyles]

All Gone (The Promise)

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Female Reader 

Word count: 1.6k+

Warnings: Mentions of Abby, swearing, she’s angsty, no use of y/n, Ellie leaves Reader to avenge Joel, this does not have a happy ending, if I missed anything please let me know!! 

Alexa’s notes✨: Hiiiii my lovely friends!! I tried writing this fic a little differently, so let me know if you like it! I’m really proud with how this turned out and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please come chat in my inbox or let me know what you thought!! Reblogs mean the world <3 

•·················•·················•

Ellie knew.

She knew that she couldn’t keep doing these things without any repercussions. The bitch named Karma was still very much alive and she was coming with a vengeance. You can’t do the things Ellie’s done without looking over your shoulder, wondering if this is it.

Wondering if today is the fucking day that she would see the sun. If it was the last day she would see your face.

Gosh, your face. You were Ellie’s light in everything. Through the horrors and endless sleepless nights in Seattle, you were right there. Consoling her and reminding her that she was safe and that you were right there. Right there within her grasp. Even when she left for Santa Barbara, you were ready to go with her without a second thought.

“I can’t ask you to come with me”

Ellie stood against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She tried to mask her face of any emotion, but found issue almost immediately. Ellie didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn't ask you to come with her and risk your life again. She risked a glance up at you and found a surprised look covering your features.

“Ellie, you know I would go with you in a heartbeat”

She shut her eyes so tightly she saw stars. Ellie didn’t want you to come with her. She couldn’t let herself corrupt you with her vicious need for revenge. She was afraid it was already too late.

It was eating her alive, the constant feeling that it was breathing down her neck, waiting for her to make a move.

“I know you would, but you can't. I need you to understand that. I can’t risk putting you in danger again for something that’s my problem.”

Ellie dropped her arms from her chest and ran a clammy hand on her jean clad thigh. Joel’s old jacket felt too warm and far too tight on her body despite the cool, early morning air.

You took a step towards her, “Ellie... you know your problems are mine too. We’ve discussed this alr-”

“I know we have, but this is something that I need to do on my own. If there wasn’t a high chance that I would die out there, I’d let you come with me, but I can’t risk that.”

You scoffed lightly, “Oh, so you can just go out there and die with no qualms about anything? But I have to stay here and wonder if you’re dead?” You pressed your lips into a thin, tight line as you shook your head slightly.

Ellie’s emerald eyes never left your face as she exhaled deeply. “That is not what I’m saying and you know it.” She needed you to understand. She didn’t know how to convey the fact that she couldn’t bear to lose you too. After Joel, you were the one to piece her back together and if she didn’t have you, Ellie wasn’t sure who she was. She couldn't do this life without you.

“No. No, Ellie. That’s exactly what you’re saying. Do you even hear yourself?” You waved a hand around in exasperation. “After everything, how can you just tell me I can’t go with you? I’m an adult just like you.”

Ellie couldn’t meet your heated gaze. She couldn’t look at you because you were right. You were always right it seemed. You were perfectly capable of handling yourself, but Ellie couldn’t live with herself if you died while helping her get revenge again, and hopefully for the last time. She opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off.

“You know what? You go. Go and just fucking kill everyone out in Santa Barbara until you find Abby. That’s what you want right? To be the one to finally, finally kill her. You want the accolades? Then go.”

Your breaths were labored now. You could feel the tension in your shoulders from the frustration, the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. How could she just leave everything you’ve built for someone like Abby? Why did she get to be more important than you and your life together?

Ellie looked down at her hands and let out a quiet sigh. This is the last way she wanted to leave things with you. She had an inkling it was coming eventually, there was only so much of her shit you could take, and Ellie thinks she’s finally pushed you over the edge.

She looked back up and met your pained gaze. She wanted nothing more than to smooth out the wrinkles that have made a home in between your eyebrows. Ellie could see right through your anger, right to the sadness she inflicted. She was always able to see right through you, read you like a book. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, defeat looming over her like a dark cloud.

You turned your body away from her and braced your hands on the counter. Wiping a stray tear, you closed your eyes. “If you’re going to go, just please go.” Your voice wavered, cracking slightly. Sniffing, you reached for the dish towel that was laid against the sink and wiped your eyes. You dropped your head slightly and took a deep breath.

Ellie moved so she was standing behind you and placed a soft hand on your shoulder. Your breath hitched slightly, and you leaned into her touch subconsciously. “I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” She ran her hand down the expanse of your back as if to memorize every ridge and line in your skin. A small sob left your chapped lips and you shrugged her hand off.

Ellie slung her backpack onto her shoulder and took her gun off the wall. She began the long trek to Santa Barbara alone and with the soft sounds of your cries replaying on a constant loop in her mind.

•·················•·················•

Ellie had made it to Santa Barbara.

Her thoughts were dangerous. Everything she had been through since she was a young girl was bubbling over, a menace that had made a home in a far tucked corner in her mind. Or maybe it was karma bidding her hello.

Either way, whatever it was, Ellie was ready to end this for good. She needed to put a stop to the deprecating thoughts, the endless feelings that whatever she did was never enough. They taunted her, always feeding her what she deemed to be true.

‘You’ll never evolve’

‘You are not enough’

‘You don’t have the will’

‘Might as well give up’

Ellie was exhausted. She was tired of  pretending that everything was okay. She hadn’t felt anything since Joel died and she thought that if she could finally end things here, that it would be okay. That she would be okay, made whole once again.  

Abby and Ellie fought bare, everything laid out before each other. All the scars, the pain, the back and forth that ravaged between them, it was finally coming to an end. Years of anguish, years of sorrow, years of torment, had finally led to this moment.

The murky ocean was up to Ellie’s knees and it threatened to knock her off balance. The gash on her side wasn’t aiding in anything, only making her feel more woozy.

There was a split moment where she saw Joel. She saw their life that once was and realized that she had never been more wrong. This wasn’t the end all be all. This would be her end if she went through with it. There would be no coming back from this. She could see karma waving in the distance, waiting for her to finish it.

Ellie had never felt so alone in her 21 years of life than she had in this moment.

She couldn’t do the same thing Abby did to her, take away her family.

So she let the girl go. Ellie couldn’t kill Abby. It wouldn’t bring any peace if another person’s blood was on her hands.

It wouldn’t bring Joel back. It wouldn’t bring back his stupid jokes, or his nightly guitar shenanigans. It wouldn’t do anything except haunt Ellie more.

Maybe karma wasn’t going to kill Ellie. No, that would be too easy. It would be too quick of an end for the immense amount of blood she has shed. The sticky, crimson blood that was now a ghost against her cracked and bruised hands.

No, karma wouldn’t do that.

Karma would slowly worm its way into Ellie’s mind. Plunging its sharp claws into her delicate memories, the ones she holds dear. It would remind her of everything she had and what she gave up in the frenzy for revenge. She’d feel every damn thing all over again and kick herself for it, praying to anyone above to make it stop.

Karma would break her down and torture her with everything she’s always wanted.

A future.

A home.

You.

You were everything Ellie’s ever wanted.

Ellie was sat on the beach, sobbing and gasping for the air her lungs so desperately needed. The dark ocean surrounded her as if she were her own little island, lost adrift. The sticky blood mixed with sweat and Santa Barbara’s salty ocean water had coated her skin in a thick, grimy layer.  If Joel could see her now, she thinks he’d be disappointed.

“You know better than this, kiddo.”

If Ellie closed her eyes long enough, she could hear his raspy voice. Almost like a whisper against the crashing waves.

That was what karma would do. The universe never made it easy for her, was never kind. It took and took with no apology.

It took Joel, and now it’s taken you.

It’s the last thing Ellie wanted, and it was the first thing she did.

#ellie williams x fem reader #ellie tlou #ellie x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #aae writes

[saltwater-and-woodsmoke]

Twenty Six Letters || JJ Maybank

Warnings and authors note: This is sad, like so sad, my friends say it rips their hearts out. I’m sorry. Title credit to black butterflies and deja vu by the maine (the lyric is “there’s only twenty six letters I can use just to tell you I won’t let go”)

This specific story is an alternate ending to another fic I wrote, but I haven’t got that one transferred here yet, I am in the process of moving all of my works to this blog from my main.

Word Count: 2,350

July 17

Y/N,

The doctors came out and told me they tried everything, but they couldn’t save you. They’re transferring Charlie to the mainland where they have a NICU, they’re life lining her. The amount of police that had to hold me back from hurting that doctor, I’m embarrassed. This was supposed to be our dream, our family. I needed to write my thoughts down, I know you can’t read this, it’s ridiculous. I can’t lose both of you. I love you so much.

JJ

July 19

Y/N,

Charlie weighs a whopping 1 pound, 2 ounces. She’s the tiniest thing I have ever laid eyes on. I’m staying on the mainland until she gets to come home, thanks to the community, really. Sarah started a fundraiser for Charlie’s medical care, your funeral, and the community really showed their support. No word on who did this to you, but I will find out. Charlotte Rose Maybank is a fighter, just like her mother. I love you.

JJ

July 21

Y/N, 

Today we laid you to rest. Even though your parents didn’t like me that well, they both put that aside today. John B and Pope had to practically hold me up at the cemetery. We were supposed to grow old and gray together, but today I had to put you six feet under at twenty three. It hit me that I am a widower at twenty-five. I am a single father of a four day old “micro preemie”. I’m at the hospital now. I’m not supposed to be in the NICU this late, but the night nurse knows what happened and can understand my need to be close to the last thing I have of you. I love you more than you will ever know,

JJ

PS: I did as you wished and made JB and Sarah her godparents. They’re coming tomorrow to see her for the first time.

July 25

Y/N,

I spent the night in jail last night. You see, they finally figured out who the pick up belonged to. I hadn’t seen him since we got married two years ago, but I was so pissed off when I went into the jail to talk to Shoupe. I asked him for five minutes with him, which was granted. I was yelling, and I’m not embarrassed about that actually. I told him I was going to make sure he went away for a very long time. That he killed the love of my life, that because of him his fucking granddaughter is fighting for her life right now all because he felt like it was okay to drive drunk. That motherfucker showed no remorse whatsoever. He fucking smirked at me Y/N, so I punched him. Square in the jaw. Of course, I was promptly booked for it, but I was told this morning that they weren’t going to actually press charges because in Shoupe’s eyes he deserved it. They put it on the books as a purely cooling down period. I came back to the hospital, and Charlie is stable. They said if she keeps improving like she is, I might get to hold her for the first time soon. I’m trying to be strong for her, for you, but I miss you so much. You should still be here, she should still be safe and growing inside you. But it wasn’t meant to be. I love you more than the moon and stars,

JJ

August 9

Y/N,

So I haven’t written in a while and that’s because we have a pretty rocking kid, you know? I got to hold her for the first time last week. It was an emotional affair, I was sobbing the moment they placed her on my chest. She’s still so tiny, but she’s gaining weight and is starting to look more like an actual human instead of an alien. I made sure the nurse took a picture when I held her because I want to remember how small she was the first time I held her, even with all the wires and tubes.  I may be writing less frequently but I’m gonna keep writing. It makes me feel better. Like, I’m still close to you with this notebook. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

JJ

September 17

Y/N,

Happy two months Lottie Rose. I know we were going to call her Charlie, but the new night nurse started calling her Lottie, and I’ve kind of fallen in love with it. It just fits her. She’s almost three pounds now! I’m so proud of her. It’s wild to me that she would be due in almost six weeks. The doctor expects her to be home by her due date, and I promptly will be taking her to your grave. She’s always going to know how much you loved her, Y/N. I made sure your mom put “Mother of Charlotte” on your headstone. When she’s older I’m gonna take her to our favorite spots. I want her to know who you were, because I know that the person you were, is why she’s here. I love you more than I can count.

JJ

October 31st

Y/N,

Happy Due Date Lottie Rose Maybank! We’re going home today, Y/N. Lottie weighs a whopping 6 pounds now. I’m so proud of her. She is tiny, but she’s gonna catch up fast. She passed her car seat test with flying colors. She can eat from a bottle, but the nurse noticed that she wasn’t as responsive to sound as most of the other babies when they’re ready to go home. She suggested she might just be desensitized to the noise of the hospital, but they wanted to recheck her hearing before we leave, so I am writing this while I wait for them to finish that. I just signed all of her release paperwork. Last night, I was contacted by the local news to do an interview about how Lottie is, and how everything has affected me. I think I should do it, John B and Sarah said they would watch Lottie while I go to the station. 

Okay so they brought Lottie back, she didn’t pass her hearing test so we have to set up an appointment for a hearing specialist. Honestly,  if she needs hearing aids it isn’t the biggest deal in the world. I’m not going to love her any less. She’s our kid, she can handle anything that's thrown in her way. I love you bunches,

JJ

December 24

Y/N,

This single dad thing is hard. Tomorrow is Lottie’s first Christmas, and we are going to church with your parents. I know you always liked to go on Christmas and Easter at least, so I thought that could be one tradition I kept with Lottie. I’m also keeping the tradition of buying a personalized ornament every year for the Christmas tree. It’s wild to think that at this time last year, we had just agreed to try for a baby, and this year everything is different. You’re not here, we have a five month old daughter who is the size of a three month old.  I’ve got to tell you, losing your wife brings things into perspective. I want Lottie to have a set of grandparents that love her unconditionally. I’ve spent a lot of time with your mom and sister the last month or so, and I know your mom will love her no matter what. No matter how we get along, Lottie comes first. She’s our priority. Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you. 

JJ

July 17

Y/N,

One year. You have been gone one long year. This time one year ago, I was working on Pope’s dad’s truck. It seemed like every single siren in the town went out, and I remember thinking “That must be a bad accident.” If only I knew then. If only I knew that in an hour, you would be gone, that I’d be standing in the waiting room of the hospital while they worked on you until they couldn’t anymore. I remember the anger, Shoupe and another officer holding me back before I just buckled in my own grief. I remember your mom and dad coming, having rushed over from the mainland. Your mom knew, as soon she walked in the waiting room where I was a mess on the floor, JB on one side of me, Pope on the other, she knew.  We sobbed together, we became numb together. I vaguely remember telling her they were lifelining Lottie to Raleigh. I remember her looking at me and telling me, “John James, you listen to me. You get to Raleigh, your daughter needs you. Do you hear me? She needs you.” It was the only time in my life I didn’t mind hearing my full name. I didn’t get to see her until she was already two days old. Today we have a happy, healthy, one year old. She’s catching up with kids her age, which kind of shocks the doctors. She’s growing on track, she’s hitting milestones. She just started crawling, but she can already get wherever her little heart desires. I’ve made a conscious effort to not be sad in front of her today. We are having a big party for her, she’s going to love it. I miss you, sweetheart. I love you

JJ

August 10

Y/N

Time flies, you know? It seems like yesterday I was bringing Lottie home from the hospital. Where has five years gone? Today, I dropped her off for her first day of kindergarten. We had a long conversation about how if anyone was mean about her hearing aids, to tell her teacher and how it wasn’t a bad thing to ask for help. I want her to have a better school experience than I had, I want her to like school. That didn’t stop me from sobbing like a baby the whole way to work. Of course, my boss knew I’d been crying and just patted my shoulder and told me “if you think this is the only first day that you’ll cry, I have news for you.” I told him Lottie is an only child, I’m probably going to cry at every first day of school. It’s strange to think that if you were still here we’d probably have another little Maybank running around. It’s okay though, your sister had twins two years ago and JB and Sarah are having their first soon, so she’s got cousins to play with. I love you sweetheart.

JJ

July 17

Y/N.

Uh, we have a teenager? Like a full ass practically fully grown human in our house. Thirteen years and it still feels like yesterday. We got the news yesterday that Luke Maybank died in jail over the weekend. Y/N, I have to tell you, our daughter cracks me up. I told her that her grandfather passed away, and she told me she hopes you take a trip down to hell and kick the shit out of him. I told her that I beat the shit out of him thirteen years ago when she was barely a week old. She found the news articles about the accident, and asked me to talk to her about it. I did, but it was hard. I’ve never shut up about you so she knew who you were. She also asked me why I never remarried. It’s simple, really. Half my heart was buried with you 13 years ago, and the other half divided to recover and love our daughter just as fiercely as we loved each other. I love you honey. 

JJ

May 31

Y/N,

Okay, we’re old. It’s fine. Charlotte Rose Maybank, you know our pretty rockin’ kid? Yeah, she graduated high school today, as valedictorian. She’ll be 18 in July, Y/N, and then in August she’s going to the mainland for college. She wants to be a doctor. Watching her walk across that stage, in her cap and gown, I was sobbing. I was an absolute mess. JB had to take pictures for me because I couldn’t stop shaking. You’d be so proud of her. I know I sure am. I love you more than I can breathe,

JJ

October 25

Y/N,

Our baby girl got married today. Of course, I could go my entire life without knowing that JB and I are going share grandkids someday, but really Alexander is a great kid, and he loves Lottie. I know that someday, she’s going to find all these notebooks and read them and I hope she laughs that I shared every milestone with you like you could read these. She’s got one more semester of school left, then she will officially be Charlotte Rose Maybank-Routledge, MD. I personally think the hyphenating of her last name is really complicated, but that’s what she wants. She looks absolutely stunning in her dress, I hope you can see her. I love you, gorgeous,

JJ

November 13

Y/N, 

We became grandparents today. It’s wild to think that 27 years ago, I was holding our daughter in the same hospital where Carter Jonathan Maybank-Routledge arrived early this morning. The Maybank genes are still strong in this one, Carter looks so much like Lottie it’s not funny. I told JB maybe the next one will look like his side, ha. Okay sweetheart, I love you. JJ

March 6

Mom,

I had absolutely no idea that Dad wrote you a letter every week, sometimes every day, for 36 years. He fought the cancer for a very long time, Mom, because he simply didn’t want to leave me and the boys.  I found the notebooks, I’ve spent the last week reading them. He loved you so much, he loved me so much. He wrote to you up until the last day. That’s beautiful. I know you are back together now. You’ve got 36 years to catch up on. Tell him we’ll be fine. 

I love you both,

Lottie.

#obx fic #jj maybank x reader #JJ maybank #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #JJ maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #JJ maybank angst #obx angst #obx fanfiction #dad!jj maybank

[diffuseidiotskeletalhyperostosis]

bonsoir trickriders!

as promised, it is my honour to present the first ~1.5k words of the fourth chapter of poison oak: the end of paralysis! you can read it below the line break. or dont, im not your dad

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

In the dim beam of his flashlight, Green Oak saw Red Isamu for the first time in eight years. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was a child- like his emotions were too big for his body. When he was a kid, he always figured that one day, he’d grow into them, tall enough to hold all of the pains he was struggling to house. Evidently, he hadn’t grown enough, as the feelings under his skin tried to push their way out. It was confusing and terrifying, like watching a snake eat its own tail; he didn’t understand it, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to. 

Sure, his first words had been a tad… harsh, but for once, Green didn’t care about his tone. He didn’t give a shit what Red wanted to hear- what words would make everything okay the quickest. For eight whole years, Green had been thinking of what he’d say to Red if he had the chance, and now that he had finally found him, Red was going to listen. 

“You ruined my life, Red. I spent the last eight years thinking that I had killed you. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have to wake up every day and look in the mirror to see the guy who killed your best friend? I’ve felt like a murderer for eight years, and turns out you’ve been up here the whole time playing mountain man! Every night for seven years, I had nightmares of finding your dead body. Seven fucking years! I’ve been tearing myself apart trying to find pieces of you, over and over and over again and what have you been doing? Whittling?” 

Green’s vision was starting to blur, either a symptom of his mounting emotion or empty stomach, but in the light cast by his flashlight, he saw Red signing to him. He made out the signs ‘Green’ and ‘please’  before clicking off his light and deciding whatever it was that Red was trying to tell him could wait. 

“I don’t care, Red! I don’t care what you think because that's what you gave up when you fucking abandoned me. And it isn’t just me, either. If you don’t care about me, that’s whatever, but how could you do this to Delia? Your mother gave you everything, and you just took it and ran. You don’t think that it would hurt her? First her husband, then her two best friends, and then her only son? Did you think that she would just get over that? Delia hasn’t felt anything other than grief for eight fucking years, Red. Eight years, by the way, that she still spent raising Daisy and me! That woman is an angel, and you broke her heart. I could care less about my feelings, but you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me that she deserves even half of what you did to her.” Green was closer to Red than he had been a minute ago, which was odd, because he didn’t remember walking forward, and Red sure as hell hadn’t moved. Whatever, you could have told Green that he was briefly gifted the ability of teleportation and he wouldn’t have given a shit. The only thoughts he could possibly think were about letting his former best friend know exactly how badly he had fucked up.

“Do you wanna know the last thing my grandfather said to me? He asked me what I did to make you leave, and that was the morning you ran away. He hasn’t spoken to me in eight years- he hasn’t even so much as looked at me. Blaming myself for your death was one thing, but having to know that Professor Oak did, too? I’m not mad at myself anymore, but he’ll never forgive me. All I ever wanted was for him to be proud of me, and instead I have to live knowing that he hates me for taking you away from him. Eight fucking years of him looking over my head like I didn’t exist- were the five years of him preferring you not enough? Did you have to take everything from me?” 

Red’s hands were moving at a pace that would be difficult for Green to interpret even without the tears in his eyes obscuring his vision. Adding in that obfuscation meant that there was no way in Distortion that Green would have been able to see Red’s pleading- how his right fist was pressed over his heart, rubbing clockwise circles over and over again: sorry. Since Green had no clue what Red was going on about, he jumped to another point he had been wanting to make. 

“And I know it isn’t fair to blame you for that, but I still do, because if there's one thing living in your shadow has taught me, it’s that nothing is ever fair. You couldn’t even let me be Champion for a day before you had to swoop in and prove to the world that you’re better than me. And then once you took the one thing I wanted more than anything else, you didn’t even hold on to it! What’s wrong with you? Do you even realize how lucky you were? You had everything I’ve ever wanted- you were the Champion. You had a loving guardian who supported you and wanted the best for you- everybody did. Even Oak. And what did you do with that? You fucked off up a mountain- which, by the way, left the League in shambles for eight years. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, because obviously it’s too much to ask of you to care about your family, let alone a stranger, but Lance spent nearly eight years working himself to the bone cleaning up the mess you made. And guess what? Even while running two regions’ Pokémon Leagues by himself, he still makes time to visit me, because unlike a certain snapback wearing jackass, he actually loves me! He asked me to take over the Viridian Gym when I was twelve, and when I said no, he held the position open for me until I was sixteen, when I finally gave up on you coming back home. I spent six fucking years living in my grandfather’s house while he actively hated my guts, even though every day under the same roof as him made me feel like I was dying. All because I was waiting for you to come back, because I thought if I moved, you wouldn’t know where to find me, and then you’d leave again. I wasted six years of my life waiting around for you. Do you wanna know why? Do you, Red?” 

Green’s trembling hands dug around in his pockets, fumbling around to find a folded up piece of printer paper amongst the cigarette packs and gum wrappers. With a crushing grip, he pulled the paper out, unfolding it and shoving it in Red’s face. The words, though the ink had slightly faded with time, could never be forgotten. They had written themselves on Green’s heart:

1. Friendship comes first

2. Winning isn’t everything

3. Never leave your rival behind

“You promised that you’d never leave me behind, Red, and then you did. Everybody thought you died, but I refused to give up on you because you promised you’d stay with me no matter what. I didn’t care about the Championship or Oak or any of that bullshit- I just wanted my friend back. I was so sure that wherever you were, there had to be something keeping you from me and it was only a matter of time before you came back. Turns out, the whole time you were roasting marshmallows by a campfire! You were up on top of the highest fucking peak on the continent being selfish, while the rest of us rotted away without you. And don’t even pretend like you have any shame about it, because if you actually cared, you would have come back ages ago.” 

At that point, Green had once again inexplicably moved even closer to Red, so much so that, if he wanted, he could reach out and touch him- if he had control of his body, that is. Now that the distance had closed, Green was having a harder time ignoring Red’s signing: Green, please, and listen over and over again. The light from the fire allowed Green a visual clarity that he had previously lacked, like a veil had been lifted from his teary eyes. Red’s face bore a unique mixture of desperation and pain, as if he was begging for his life instead of for Green to hear him out. It almost softened his resolve, how pitiful Red looked. 

Instead of giving in, Green closed his eyes. 

“I don’t care! I don’t fucking care how you feel, Red. Have you ever thought about how I feel? Have you thought about how other people feel? Has it ever crossed your mind that what you do affects other people? Do you even care? I don’t think you ever did, Red. Or is it that we just aren’t worth it to you?  I don’t think you ever gave a shit about me, because if you did, you wouldn’t have left me behind. I loved you, Red, more than anything, and I was stupid enough to believe you loved me back, and-”

Green’s screaming was cut off by blinking lights. 

--. .-. . . -. Green

#reguri #red x green #red pokemon #green pokemon #namelessshipping #originalshipping #trainer red #champion red #green oak

[outsideratheart]

“Will you be my new years kiss?” with amaiur sarriegi

New Year’s Eve.

Year after year as the clock struck midnight you would see people kiss their significant others, some even strangers yet you would be alone. For you it was a day of fantasy because while you wanted nothing more to start the new year kissing the woman you loved she had no idea that you felt the way you do.

“Are you going to invite you know who or are you going to bail like last year and the year before and the year—“ Patri teases you.

“Alright I get it, no need to give a history lesson to the entire locker room” you reply through gritted teeth.

Every year the girls host a party on the 31st and this year it was going to be at Mapi & Ingrid’s apartment. You wanted to invite Amaiur because she was your best friend but an invite to a new years eve party when you haven’t seen each other for months, except when Barcelona played Real Sociedad, felt a little intense.

You found yourself thinking about her. The way she had made your life better since meeting her when you were 16 and what could happen if you were with her when the fireworks go off at midnight. You are so caught up in your head that you don’t hear your team mates trying to get your attention, it is only when a towel gets thrown at you do you come back to the present.

“Let me guess, you were thinking about Amaiur. You know if you invite her she’ll probably say yes”Mapi joins in the teasing.

“That’s why I haven’t asked” you are quick to reply having grown old of the conversation.

The topic of your unofficial plus one doesn’t get brought up again and soon enough it is the night of the party. You were quite strict during the season but New Year’s Eve was one of your exceptions so with ever drop of alcohol that joined your bloodstream you found yourself thinking of a certain Real Sociedad forward. You had text her this morning but she hasn’t responded and the absence of talking to her didn’t feel right consider you spoke almost every day. Maybe that is the reason why you are easily swayed to accept the shots that Mapi was handing you but by the look on her face you can tell she has an ulterior motive.

“I did something” the blonde confesses.

“What did you do?” Normally Mapi would tell you straight up or more than likely you would have been invovled in the mischief but the look on her face wasn’t one you recognised.

You hear some of your team mates cheering as they welcomed more guests in the apartment but when a specific guest makes her self known you understand Mapi’s hesitation.

“Amaiur! This is a surprise” you hear Pina say in the distance.

“Understatement of the fucking year” you whisper so that only Mapi can hear you before walking away and joining the nearest conversation.

You didn’t mean to avoid Amaiur the entire night but that is what happened. Ever since the euros things seemed to have changed between the two of you or more so a shift in how you felt about her because you realised you wanted to be more than friends.

The whole situation was very overwhelming and you needed to regain control of your emotions before you did or said something you couldn’t take back. It’s because of this that you find yourself out on the balcony focusing on the streets on Barcelona and the people that lined them.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me” Amaiur jokes as she joins you outside.

You felt butterflies in your stomach at the sound of her voice.

“I’m always happy to see you” even when speaking to her you don’t turn to face her.

“What is it you say about actions” she asks.

You feel her presence beside you. When you look at her you are reminded once again just how beautiful she is.

“They speak louder than words” you reply.

She gives you a knowing look and you know why. If you really wanted to see her that night why had you spent the past couple of hours speaking to everyone but her.

Amaiur senses your nervousness so she rests her hand on your arm only for you to pull away when you get goosebumps. You loved feeling her touch but you didn’t want her to know the affect that she had on you given that it didn’t happen before the summer.

“I knew something changed between us. I shouldn’t have come” Amaiur has one foot back in the apartment by the time you grab her wrist.

“Amauri” 

“Y/N” she mimics your tone.

You pull her back outside, closing the balcony door all whilst ignoring the eyes that are watching you from inside.

“Something has changed” you confirm her suspisions.

“What?”

“Everything” a sigh of frustration leaves your mouth as you run your hand through your hair.

“Talk to me” Amaiur closes the distance that she created by taking a hold of your hands and pulling them towards her.

“I have feelings” you say as if it is the most devistating thing in the world. Your dramatic tone causes Amaiur to laugh but when she sees your reaction she covers her mouth.

“What feelings do you have?”

“The kind that I shouldn’t have for my best friend, for you” 

It wasn’t exactly the confession of love that happened in the movies.

“Y/N do you think I act the way I do with you with anyone else?”

She asks like the answer is obvious only that couldn’t have been further from what you are feeling so you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t, do you?”

This was easy. You shake your head.

“Would you like to know why I don’t?”

You nod your head.

“I have feelings” she mocks your earlier confession.

“Please don’t make fun of me” it is barely a whisper and you cannot bring yourself to look Amaiur in the eyes.

“Y/N look at me” she begs.

When you don’t do as she asks she uses her index finger to tilt your head up.

“I would never make fun of you. What I’m trying to tell you is that I have the same feelings”

This gets your attention.

“You do?” You ask not sure if you are hearing her right.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” She didn’t understand your doubt.

“Because you’re you and I’m”

“You’re you. Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it. Will you be my new years kiss?”

You think about what she is asking you. What it would be like to finally have you fantasy New Year’s Eve. There Amaiur stands telling you that she wants to kiss you and more importantly that she feels the same way as you. This fills you with a new found confidence.

“We don’t have to wait until midnight” without saying anything else you grab her face and crash your lips into her. The passion between you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

When you pull away you see a satisfied look on Amaiur’s face watching as you run your finger over your lips.

“Believe me now?”

“I do”

#christmas ficlet #Amaiur sarriegi x reader #woso x reader #espwnt x reader #real sociedad x reader

[iamvegorott]

Was wondering if you could do angst 5 n’ 7 with Danti please?

5. "Why can't you love me back?" 7. "Leave."

---------

“Darky~! What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Anti asked after glitching into Dark’s office.

“I currently don’t have plans,” Dark answered, eyes on his laptop screen as he typed up an email for Google. 

“Let’s hit up that one Italian place. I’ve heard they have endless breadsticks.” 

“That sounds like a date,” Dark said, checking that Anti knew what he was implying.

“It sounds like a date because I’m asking you to go on a date.” Anti chuckled with a little eye roll.

“We don’t date.” 

“Yeah. We fuck. I’d like to add some more to that.”

“We can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“We can’t.” Dark only repeated himself, and he leaned back when Anti shut his laptop, keeping his hand on top of it so he couldn’t open it back up.  

“That’s not an answer. Why not? We’ve been fucking for almost a year at this point, and you know damn well the shit we do go beyond a basic ‘friends with benefits’ definition.” Anti was sick and tired of Dark avoiding his feelings, and this caused him to have to bury away his own. It was stupid. 

“I feel we fit that definition fairly well. It’s just sex. It’s us using each other for physical relief, nothing more.” Dark stood up and walked over to one of the many file cabinets lined up against one of the walls. 

“Bullshit that it’s nothing more.” Anti scoffed. “When we started this stuff, I completely agree with you. We had fun. And then we went off to do our own thing. But now? Now, we’re far past that.”

“Last I checked, we still did that.” Dark was doing everything he could to not look at Anti, pretending to be searching for a file. 

“Not really. Get your head out of your ass Dark and think.” Anti stepped towards the cabinets. “We kiss more, we cuddle, you play with my hair and rub my back. For fuck’s sake, we’ve taken baths together. That’s not just sex, that’s romance.” 

“Providing aftercare doesn’t mean anything.” Dark closed the drawer, pulling out a random file he didn’t need. 

“It does when I love you!” Anti finally snapped. “I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing. That your smiles and laughs were fake, that you don’t relax when it’s just the two of us, that you don’t care about me.” 

“Anti. You need to go.” Dark couldn’t face Anti, let alone look him in the eye. 

“You’re not running away from this anymore. Tell me. Tell me that you don’t care about me. That you don’t care about us. You’re not going to because you can’t.”

“You need to leave before you hear something that will hurt you.” 

“Just tell me that what you were doing was with your heart and not your dick! Just tell me the truth!” Anti felt the anger building inside of him. Dark was doing what Dark always did when it came to confronting emotions. And it was pissing Anti off. 

“Get out.” Dark spoke between gritted teeth, doing everything he could to remain calm. 

“Why can’t you just love me back!?” Anti cried.

“Leave!” Dark’s voice split, aura flashing and getting Anti to step back. Dark wished he hadn’t faced Anti to say that. He didn’t want to see Anti’s heart shatter at that moment. He hated that sorrowful look in his eyes and that he was the cause of it. “I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck you, Dark,” Anti spoke harshly before glitching away. 

“Damn it,” Dark grunted, scolding himself internally.

He was a coward. He was a fucking coward. 

----------

Next: Link

@bookwormscififan @brokentimewatch

Pinterest Prompts List: Link

#anon #danti #angst #pinterest prompts #veggie writes #I could probably be easily talked into making a sequel to this XD #edit; i was

[go-to-the-mirror]

Un-Follow Me Now, This Is Gonna Be The Only Thing I Talk About For The Next Day. I've Been Wanting This For Months Fuck. What The Fuck. /ref

@a-mag-a-day

So, uhm, MAG 136 everybody! As you can probably tell I've been looking forward to this episode, not as much as some others, (cough cough) cul-de-sac (cough cough), but a fair amount of excitement going into this. So, without further ado, let's get on with it! Mostly rambling, but I have great words a lot of the time.

For content warnings, mostly what's in the episode and some pretty frank discussions of suicide and depression. If I need to add or tag anything please let me know.

If I get another gambling ad, I'm going to break something :). Sorry, I keep getting this gambling advert and it's just. Nope, no, 0/10. I had hope it would only be on RQG.

ARCHIVIST (Compelling) If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to? MELANIE Therapy. Wait … ARCHIVIST Oh, God, Melanie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … MELANIE It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually anyway. ARCHIVIST Even so, I shouldn’t— MELANIE Just forget it

I'm glad that although Melanie's obviously -- and to be honest, rightfully, yeah Jon didn't mean to make her tell him that she's going to therapy, he still did and that would make me pretty angry -- upset, she's handling it in a good way, they're not getting in a fight, they're being... amicable. Not friends -- a long way from friends.

DAISY You’re not babysitting me, alright? I know that’s what the others think sometimes, but that’s not it. I just don’t like being on my own if I can help it. You know, flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST I know, Daisy. I do. It’s hard. DAISY Yeah, well. Don’t let me get in your way. ARCHIVIST Of course.

jon's just grappling with the concept of friendship in the corner like, sure, he was a last resort, but he's spending time with another human and they're not obviously wishing he was dead! yay for that i guess!

also uhm i like how yk, maybe i was just watching bad shows before -- probably -- but it isn't... glossed over. they go through things and they deal with said things, mostly in bad and self destructive ways, like yes the characters suffering and then they have to deal with the suffering and it's all portrayed in a -- in my opinion -- pretty true to life way. People get angry when they're traumatized and under stress, people get suicidal, people do stupid things, people don't trust people -- trust the wrong people -- the works.

*holds gently* p o d c a s t

I loved Neil. I might even have been in love with him; it’s hard to say. When there are so many emotions caught up in a single person, when they’re such a significant force in your life, it gets difficult to say what’s really there at the heart of it.

I'm aro, I thought i was in love with people, I probably wasn't. Love is complicated, discerning what type it is.

Even pyrotechnics, while impressive and visually spectacular, just didn’t give me the same sharp joy as making something that could move, that came alive, directed and controlled by my hand.

Ah, right, so here's the sentence that's like "and this is what fear it is." There's a lot of those, scattered around. What comes to mind are the following lines.

Well, that’s what’s really terrifying, isn’t it? Your mind is all you are. There’s no back-up, no reset if it goes. I’m not just talking about madness as it appears, but what it is from inside. The way people talk about it, it’s like you have to think you’re sane, that our mind is everything we perceive, everything we are. Well, that means you can never know when your grasp might be slipping. I’m not convinced that’s it though. Or maybe deep down, somewhere inside, you understand what’s happening to you and I, um… I don’t know which scares me more.

(MAG 65 - Binary)

This shows that it's The Spiral.

One thing that… eats at me, as it were, and does give me that sick tightness of fear deep in my gut. It is rot. I don’t know why it gets to me so; perhaps it’s precisely because I don’t think there is anything beyond the body, and even dead and unaware, seeing a person’s form begin to putrefy and fester – becoming just a home for the crawling, feasting things – is too much for me. Perhaps it’s just an unaccountable phobia. Regardless of the reason, the fact is that to see the corpses decaying, to see their flesh corrupted, it is… the one part of this job that I find uncomfortable. So much so that I would describe reconstruction and preservation as my favourite part of the process. Making sure the cadaver looks as peaceful and lifelike as possible. Make them the person they were, or as close as they can be while cold and senseless. Fighting off the rot. The insects. The disease.

(MAG 36 - Taken Ill)

And this shows it's The Corruption.

I like it, a little introduction, so you know what you're getting into.

“Besides,” he always told me, “I’m a puppeteer at heart.”

✨ Spooky! ✨

A frugal life, lucrative career and prickly personality had left him with lots of money, but no real support; while my life had left me in a position where I cared deeply about his wellbeing and was in desperate need of money. Everything just lined up so neatly.

this was planned wasn't it, "everything just lined up so neatly," yeah no way it's a coincidence.

I must have asked him about it, but at the time it just seemed like such a natural progression.

This reminds me of some of the stuff in MAG 59 - Recluse.

I’m sure they’d have said the same things about me and at the time nothing seemed amiss. I did what I did because it was what I was supposed to do, and it never struck me to question it. I’m not sure I really recognise who I became while living at that house.

With The Web's control and things seeming fine but then you look back and it's like "yep, definitely not."

He was hanging there, wrapped in his strings like a cocoon, twisting gently around and around and around.

THAT'S AN IMAGE. oh!! OH!! oh boy!!!

She told me to take the films, his original cuts.

The way "original cuts" is said sounds a lot like some of the other tones a few statement givers take -- even Jon sometimes, immediately I can think of in the season 5 trailer. I recognise that tone.

She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I would very much like to go home.

I love the way this statement ends, a lot of statements have very cool endings, this one's snazzy, the statement giver sounds so defeated.

ARCHIVIST They were … Well, let’s just say it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though, let alone original cuts. Records indicate they ended up in Artefact Storage. DAISY Probably best they stay there. ARCHIVIST Yeah… Yes, of course.

No! Not best they stay there! Daisy and Jon movie night watching spooky films together! I think that would be fun.

DAISY She’s Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. Like that lighter you’re always using – where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST Hm, good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

Spooky bloody lighter, god damnit, god damn that spooky lighter.

AAAA. No guys, the lighter isn't messing with his memory, he just has adhd.

DAISY Yeah, well, what do you think? You think I’m weak just cos I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST I … I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the intersection between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.

✨ t h e m e s ✨ [themes]

I, unsurprisingly, like this. I think, that I like. The exploration of it. I think it's snazzy. It's hard to articulate my thoughts, but I am holding this gently, I am holding the many many themes of this very cool podcast gently. I am directing you to tumblr user annabelle--cane because it's got great brain thoughts.

DAISY Jon … When you went in the coffin, was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me or was something telling you to do it? ARCHIVIST It was me. I was drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY What was it? ARCHIVIST My— My memories of the coma are not clear, but I know I made a choice. I made a choice to become … something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I don’t know if I made the right decision. I’m stronger now, tougher, I can … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever, I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe stop that happening and the only danger is to me … I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster. DAISY That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST (Laughs) Yeah. I suppose it is.

I've also heard it described as "if there was a truck coming towards me, I wouldn't move out the way." Maybe not actively seeking it, but definitely not... not seeking it.

Yeah, thinking you're an inherently worse person than everyone around you, is a pretty good way to get you know, suicidal.

Almost everyone you care about thinking -- and saying -- that your very existence is a wrong, that they'd rather you have died, that's going to mess you up. And I'm... I mean like, poor Jon or whatever, I love him, he's my blorbo, but like him living his worst life is compelling and written well.

I should say more, but idk, I think I've summed up Some Thoughts.

ARCHIVIST I guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t … wouldn’t be as bad as it was. And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually endure the result. You might have noticed, when I was in there with you, I had regrets.

fuck dude it sure is, i mean at least he's pretty bad at self-sacrifice, like he lived, didn't get stuck in a coffin forever, no bad outcomes apart from... like... the trauma. he didn't even have to have one awkward conversation. until now, but i feel like him and daisy are more on the "joking about melodramatic notes app notes written while having a breakdown" than "one person who wants to get out of the situation and another who is Concerned."

DAISY You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST I what?

THIS IS A MOMENT WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS ABSOLUTELY WIN. "picture of Edwardian offence" ahsdfsewadfssewa

I mean like yeah it's a little insensitive or whatever, but to be fair, sometimes it's just better to get out of your head, distract yourself, don't listen to sad music while you're down because otherwise you're just going to get more sad. Shout out to crying over a TMA meta while listening to Mitski and reading all my saved TMA metas. Not the exact situation, but let it be known i don't cry over fiction that much. This podcast has made me cry like... how many times at this point?

I'd share other, more specific details, but I'm not sure how much is oversharing, especially with these topics.

DAISY “Boo hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST I am alone. Martin is—

*points* GAY

well, bi. yk.

DAISY Get over yourself. You’re always talking about choices. We all made ours. Now I’m making a choice to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST I don’t … Yeah, ok.

ANOTHER PART WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS STAY WINNING! "pause while he grapples with the concept of friendship." Like I'm using official because i noticed an error in MAG 119, but the unofficials are funny.

DAISY Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST Is she … Would she want to join us? DAISY If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST Uhhh… DAISY It’s a joke, John. ARCHIVIST (Dubious) Oh, aha. Yes. I’ll get my coat.

HIS STUPID LITTLE LAUGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

he's just like me fr oh my goddd he's a dumbass he's i want to squish him like one of those toys whose eyes pop out i want to shake him out like a cat aaaaaa

Anyway, Jon fan[redacted]ing over, uhhh more thoughts on the whole bloody... thing he's got going on.

First of all, I mean... passive suicidality sucks. And I think that's what's going on, like he jumped into that coffin, with the knowledge that he might not live, but maybe he will, and does it matter either way. He lives, gets Daisy out, he's useful, he's good. He dies or gets stuck there... well, it's just another monster gone. And of course that's not what he thinks when he's down there, but... I can't back this up with studies, but anecdotally... yeah uh, I mean, sometimes you go "oh shit, maybe doing this nonspecific thing was a bad idea, actually, and you don't want to die."

That... sudden realization of what he's done, what he's condemned himself to, the continuing... you know, he's not exactly okay in season 5, or even later on in season 4 -- what with the dark sun -- and that rings true with me. I can actually back this up with a study, according to this website, (it's reliable, it's Harvard, just search up "attempters' longterm survival" on google, it should be the first result.) 90% of people who attempt suicide don't go on to die by suicide, however 40% of those who have died from suicide (in the US) have previously attempted suicide, and 5 to 11 percent of people hospitalized for a suicide attempt go on to die via suicide, but those who haven't are only 1 in 10,000. Besides, not he's gotten help, he's just realized he made a mistake in one situation, he's talked about it to a friend, sure, but he's still mostly alone, he still mostly thinks he's a monster.

Like... that's not a great situation to be in. Someone give him some actual friends (or a boyfriend) and take all the Panado (acetaminophen) out of his reach.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 136 #jonathan sims #tma meta #the magnus archives meta #daisy tonner #a mag a day #cw suicide #tw suicide #landscaping your mind chapter one