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tazmuir · 5 years

Note

Hello! I loved Gideon the Ninth so much!! and would like to draw fan art, would you mind sharing any helpful summaries of what each character looks like? or must us fans hunt through the book for every offhand line of description? (not that I'm not planning on rereading it anyway)

I have let myself drift back onto Tumblr after two weeks, am deeply affrighted and excited at the idea that anyone has drawn my kids (I had an AMA on Reddit and as said there, my editor every so often hollered into my inbox about amazing shit people were doing, but I was too busy complaining back to him that my face had gone numb and that I no longer slept, but instead the darkness of the grave claimed me for four to five hours each night). Thank you so much to anyone who has already done this. Many people on my team have yelled and yelled.

Back early on in the piece I made a document for him about what characters looked like in terms of basic ideas/outlines for copyediting, covers and sense purposes, and I’ve dug out that document and slapped it up here for general delectation. As a note: I imagine specific things when it comes to my characters (I am a Kiwi: I write Kiwis In Space as a default) but as I have nothing but joy in my heart for how anyone would want to draw these characters, feel free to glance over this, then toss it out the window. It would bring tears of beauty to my eyes if anyone was like “Yes, but when I was reading I imagined Naberius Tern as a huge monitor lizard,” because absolutely yes, Naberius Tern was just a huge monitor lizard, godspeed.

I had only described below the specific cavalier-necromancer pairs, so that’s what you’ll find below, sorry if anyone wanted Teacher.

SECOND HOUSE

The only ones who seemed even vaguely compos mentis were the Second House: as it turned out, they had been the ones to call Teacher to the access hatch, and now they sat ramrod-straight and resplendent in their Second-styled Cohort uniforms, all scarlet and white. They both affected the same tightly-braided hairstyle and the same amount of extremely gilt braid, and also the same serious-business expression, and they could be told apart by one having a rapier and one quite a lot of pips at her collar.

Captain Judith Deuteros and Lieutenant Marta Dyas are alike in posture, bearing and extremely crisp military uniform (think a cross between US Navy whites and the Regency navy). Unlike every single other necromancer on the cast, Judith never wears necromancer robes, but is dressed in the exact same way as Marta. Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is; Judith is imposing, solemn-faced and reflective, Marta is more keen-eyed and restless. I imagined both as Tongan.

THIRD HOUSE

[Coronabeth] was tall and regal, with some radiant, butterfly quality – her shirt was haphazardly tucked into her trousers, which were haphazardly tucked into her boots, but she was all topaz and shine and lustre. All necromancers affected robes in the same way cavaliers affected swords, but she hadn’t tucked her arms into hers, and it was a gauzy, gold-shot, transparent thing floating out around her like wings. There were about five rings on each hand and her earrings would’ve put chandeliers to shame, but she had an air of wild and innocent overdecoration, of having put on the prettiest things in her jewellery box and then forgetting to take them off. Her buttery hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, and she kept tangling a curl of it in one finger and artlessly letting it go.

The second twin was like someone had taken the first to pieces and put her back again without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but wore it like a very beautiful shroud on a mummy. The cavalier had lots of hair, an aquiline face, and a self-satisfied little jacket.

Coronabeth is massive, taller even than Palamedes, larger-than-life – statuesque, very bright gold hair, golden/bright skin, violet eyes. Ianthe is the same height but gangly and washed out. Skin colour defined heavily in Corona’s case as golden/olive-hued brown/tanned; Ianthe similar, but less radiant/more pallid whatever the case. Both have long hair: Corona’s should be big and bouncy, Ianthe’s flat/sleek.Naberius is shorter than both, brown-haired (brown can be light, medium or dark, it’s not defined) and blue-brown hazel eyes. Also has lots of hair, cut short, but sense of pompadour/waves. I imagined all three as Pakeha/white.FOURTH HOUSEBoth Isaac and Jeannemary are around fourteen and have pretty much the same body shape still: Jeannemary is semi-muscular and has lots of corners, Isaac is skinnier. Both are natural brunettes, though Isaac has bleached hair (orange, fauxhawk) and Jeannemary is described as having curly hair. Both have multiple ear piercings and eyeliner and the visual is somewhat Glassons storecard punk. Both have dark brown eyes. Jeannemary has a somewhat dusty, fierce, monochromatic appearance (brown hair, brown skin), and I imagine her as Māori. Isaac I imagined as NZ Chinese.FIFTH HOUSEMagnus Quinn is a man in his middling to late thirties, with short, curly hair: he is a frank-faced, nice-looking guy of medium build with a face inclined to wholesome smiles. His outfits should be absolutely exceptionally well-tailored and not very flashy. Imagined him as Samoan. His wife Abigail is perpetually neat, wears round spectacles and has long, glossy dark brown hair – she is the least described of a cast not very specifically described. Much like Magnus, she should always be beautifully and tastefully dressed, though in her case she would affect trousers as well as a robe. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

SIXTH HOUSECrouching in front of the hatch was a rangy, underfed young man: he was wrapped in a grey cloak and the light glinted on the spectacles slipping down his nose. Standing next to him holding a big wedge of broken sculpture and the flashlight was a tall, equally grey-wrappered figure with a scabbard outlined at her hip. She had hair of an indeterminate darkness, cut blunt at her chin.Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary-looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses so thick they could make spaceflight grade, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, and the head of someone with resting bitch face.

Palamedes is seriously underfed with a bony, thin face and glasses: medium brown hair cut short and with no particular thought for aesthetics, dresses just in greys, eyes particularly lovely clear grey. Camilla has very dark cold-brown hair – chin-length, straight and with a fringe – dark eyes. She’s compact and has lots of lean muscle, and I imagine her of being Middle Eastern extraction, though due to Sixth House parameters both will be fairly mixed. They’re actually second cousins, so there ought to be a faint resemblance.

SEVENTH HOUSE[Dulcinea] was a slender young thing whose mouth was a brilliant red with blood: her dress was a frivolous concoction of seafoam green frills, and the blood on it seemed more somber against such a backdrop. Her skin seemed transparent – horribly transparent, with the veins at her hands and the sides of her temples a visible cluster of mauve branches and stems. Her eyes fluttered open: they were huge and blue, with velvety brown lashes.

Dulcinea is a girlish woman who looks extremely fragile and sickly, like a neurasthenic Victorian maiden. Eyes should be extremely blue. Hair is light brown in long curls; skin is pale. Pretty in a frivolous, invalid way. Gives the impression of being slight. Outfits should be gauzy and nightgownish. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

The man who’d put the sword to her neck was uncomfortably buff. He had upsetting biceps. He looked like a collection of lemons in a sack. He didn’t look healthy; he was a dour, bulky young person, whose skin had something of the strange, translucent tinge that the girl’s had. He was waxen-looking in the sunlight […] He was dressed richly, but with clothes that looked as though they’d seen practical wear: a long cape of greyish-green, and a belted kilt and boots. There was a long, shining length of etched chain rolled up and over his arm, and a big one-handed sword hung at his hip.

Protesilaus is massive, buff, and also sort of sickly and indistinct-looking in his colouring – he is described as being made up mainly of muddy, ashen browns. Think Greek warrior, but with no vibrant colouring. Biggest on cast, even bigger than Colum Ash. Imagined him as mixed Pasifika.

EIGHTH HOUSEIt was a pair who were both boys – well – a boy and a man; one was a wan, knife-faced kid dressed in antiseptic whites and useless chainmail you could cut with a fork, it was so delicate. [Silas] was draped in it even down to a kilt, which was strange: necromancers didn’t normally wear that kind of armour, and he was definitely the necromancer. He had necromancer build. […] He gave the impression of being absolutely no fun at all. He was prim and ascetic-looking, and his companion – who was older, a fair bit older than Gideon herself – had the air of the perpetually disgruntled. He was rather more robust, nuggety, and dressed in chippy bleached leathers that looked as though they’d seen genuine use. One finger on his left hand was just a gross-looking stump, which she admired.

Silas is in his teens, has shoulder-length white hair in a braid and dark eyes. He has extremely pale skin, and coupled with the white robes and silver chainmail (all of which somewhat swamp him – he’s sort of slender and purse-mouthed) gives the impression of being arrestingly white all over. Pointy chin, oval face, disapproving expression, a little insubstantial. Colum, his older, larger nephew is much taller, broader and in his early thirties. He has medium brown hair in a short back’n’sides crop, dark eyes, and appears jaundiced in skin tone – he’s very weatherbeaten and tan-skinned, scarred, and though he’s dressed in the same colours he tends to contrast heavily with them and his leather armour is also beaten-up. He looks tatty and ill-used, expression is apathetic or forbidding; Silas always looks perfectly clean, crisp and white. Facially there should be a similarity. They’re both Pakeha, with Silas being significantly the palest person on-cast.

NINTH HOUSEThe light fell on [Harrow’s] painted grey face and black-daubed chin, and her short-cropped, dead-crow-coloured hair. […] She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high-browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and vicious mouth.

Harrow is a scrawny teenage girl with black hair cut short (as befits someone in a monastery) and truly black eyes: she never appears except in black and white skull facepaint. She has a pointed, rather triangular face, not very long, a triangular heart rather than a triangular diamond or oval. She wears black robes and long-sleeved, long-trousered clothes – all black – with no skin showing: the main decoration on this is bones. She wears a corset of rib bones and could have any other bone decoration, which has been written of in the book as bone bangles and multiple bone stud piercings in the ears. She’s more femme-androgynous than outright butch; in Book 1 she’s a bit birdlike and free of specific masc or femme gender markers in terms of outfit or build. I imagined her as being mixed Māori.Gideon is true butch: tall of height – at least, taller than Harrow – extremely, shreddedly fit with the muscular arms of a swordswoman or boxer. She should have a strong-jawed, boyishly pretty face with a big douchebag grin. Cropped hair same as Harrow, except that hers as an oblate is more of an in-your-face mop (could be partly-shaved except that implies more care than Gideon possesses) and is intensely, vividly red. I envision her as mixed Māori, darker-skinned than Harrow. She also wears skull facepaint, though hers tends to be much less careful and baroque than Harrow’s. She often affects a pair of black aviator sunglasses. She wears the same black cloak as Harrow, without any decoration, and a plain black shirt and trousers underneath. Her eyes are an extremely vivid amber with more of a yellow/golden tint than a russet one.

#wild spoiler nobody cared about: camilla and palamedes are second cousins #am I allowed to go look at the art now or will I fall about and die of joy #gideon the ninth #appearances etc #I have not come back to the Internet because my inbox was full and I was afraid. Thank you everyone who has read my book.#Naberius Tern is a monitor lizard in a wig. I'm not good at this #reply #otonin

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itsadamcole · 3 years

Text

last christmas

fem!reader x finn balor

reader and Finn have been broken up for almost a year. they haven't seen or spoken to each other since Finn ended the relationship. it's now Christmastime, and they come face-to-face at the NXT Christmas party for the first time since the breakup ... "i loved you. i loved you so much that it hurt me"

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: angsty, mentions & actions involving cheating, drinking, implied sex, kinda nsfw

— day 7 out of 25. let’s gooo —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 2

~ some 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You stand outside of BelaRosa Banquet Hall and stare up at the building. You know what's waiting for you inside.

While you've managed to avoid him at Full Sail, it won't be as easy to avoid him here. At least at Full Sail, you can hide in your dressing room. At BelaRosa Banquet Hall, there's nowhere to hide. Except maybe the bathroom. He's too much of a gentleman to walk into a women's restroom.

"Hey, girlie," you hear Candice LeRae say behind you. You glance back to see her walking up to the door with Johnny Gargano by her side. "Why are you still out here? You should be inside."

You say, "I'm trying to talk myself into going in. It's taking me longer than I thought."

Candice hooks her arm with yours and she says, "You know he doesn't like coming to these events. He probably won't even be here."

Anxiety hits you like a train as you say, "He's NXT Champion, Candice. There's no way that he's not here."

"That's a good point," she says. "I used to wrestle men so I won't be afraid to hit him or hurricanrana him so please come inside and sit with me and Johnny."

That gets a light laugh out of you. You give in and say, "Fine. You better hold your promise to hurrincanrana him if he comes near me."

Candice laughs and the three of you walk inside. "I promise," she says.

The banquet hall is huge and already full of NXT wrestlers and staff members. William Regal is even here. So is Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Shawn Michaels. If they're here then he definitely is.

You join Candice at a table with Tegan Nox, Dakota Kai, Raquel Gonzalez, Tommaso Ciampa, Tyler Breeze, and Fandango.

"Hey, Y/N!" Tegan says, patting the seat beside her. "Sit here. I didn't think we'd be seeing you."

Laughing, you say, "I decided to show up and not let a breakup dictate my life anymore."

Candice says, "She was standing outside the building for who knows how long when I showed up. Who knows if she would have walked in if it wasn't for me."

Everyone at the table kind of laughs.

The banquet hall is full of Christmas and holiday themed decorations. Garland hands all over the place with a large Christmas tree in one of the corners of the room. Wreaths are scattered throughout the room. The tables all have little Santa or snowman figurines as decoration.

"I love that dress, Y/N," Dakota compliments. "Very pretty."

The decision to come to this party was so last minute that you had to grab a dress from your closet instead of buying something new like most people did. The dress you're wearing is a short satin silver dress with spaghetti straps that crisscross each other on your back. The neck dips a little low, revealing a small amount of cleavage. You wear matching silver heels. Your Y/H/C colored hair is up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"Thank you, Kota," you say, smiling kindly at her.

The party goes well until dinner is served in buffet form. You're making your way down the line when someone says, "It's nice to see ya, Y/N. It's been a while."

You'd know that accent anywhere. That Irish accent that made you weak in the knees every time you heard it. Your suspicions are confirmed when you look to your left to see Finn Balor grabbing some mashed potatoes.

"Wish I could say the same," is all you say before grabbing a roll and some butter before walking off.

You sigh as you sit down, angry and frustrated that he even had the nerve to come up to you and say that it's nice to see you. You eat angrily.

Candice notices you and asks, "What's going on? You seem angry."

"I'm not," you snap. "Angry. I'm not angry."

Johnny chimes in and says, "Your vegetables say differently. Did he say something to you? I saw him standing next to you."

You look up at Johnny and say, "He said it was nice to see me, as if he didn't cheat on me several times then play victim every time I would find out."

Candice looks at you, upset that he even talked to you.

Tegan gives you a hug and says, "We won't let him talk to you again, Y/N. That was the first and last time he will talk to you tonight."

Dinner and dessert go by pretty much quickly and easily. Finn doesn't approach you while you eat.

After dinner and dessert, Candice and Johnny go off to dance. Raquel and Dakota go talk to Io Shirai and Rhea Ripley. Tyler and Dango go talk to Adam Cole and the Undisputed Era. Tommaso goes and mingles. That leaves you and Tegan at the table.

Tegan is in the middle of telling you a story about her dog as the two of you sip off your alcoholic drink when Finn approaches you again.

"I'd really like to talk with ya for a second, Y/N," he says. "Please."

You sigh and ask, "What part of 'I never want to talk to you again' didn't you understand?"

Tegan jumps in and says, "Take a hint, Finn. She doesn't want to talk."

Finn looks at you and says, "Just for a few minutes. Then ya can go back to hating my guts."

You turn and look up at Finn, meeting his eyes. "When I said to never talk to me again, I meant it, Finn," you say, growing more and more frustrated.

"It's just a two-minute long conversation, Y/N," he says. "Come on."

Tegan looks at you and you look at her. She says, "Get it out of the way that way you can enjoy the rest of your night."

Sighing, you look back up at Finn and say, "Fine. You have only two minutes."

He looks at Tegan before saying, "Alone. I want to talk to ya alone."

Rolling your eyes, you get out of your seat. Finn walks off to a more private and quieter part of the banquet hall.

"What do you want, Finn?" you ask. "Here to tell me how much you want me back and wish you never cheated?"

He says, "I'm getting married." You're surprised by these three words. "I wanted to make peace with the people I've hurt the most before I got married. Starting with ya."

You look up at Finn and say, "I'm not forgiving you any time soon, Finn. You hurt me so many times."

Finn says, "I don't expect ya to forgive me, Y/N. I'm just trying to make peace with ya so ya stop being smart when I talk to ya at work. I understand that I hurt ya and are mad at me-"

You cut him off and say, "You don't understand. If you understood then you wouldn't have cheated on me multiple times. I'm not just mad, I'm furious. I feel like the past six years were a waste of my time because of you. I loved you. I loved you so much that it hurt me. I took you back when you begged and pleaded because I believed you when you told me you wouldn't cheat again. I gave you chance after chance to make it up to me and just when you did, I'd find out that you cheated again. So no, you don't understand, Finn."

He hangs his head in shame as you speak. He knows that what he did was wrong. Now he's trying to right this wrong.

Finn waits until you're done talking before he says, "I understand what I did was wrong. I've grown and reflected in the past year, Y/N. I've met someone I'm happy with. I've met someone who's kind and beautiful and hasn't judged me because of my past. I've met someone who is nothing compared to ya. I know ya won't forgive me but I want ya back in my life because this whole ignoring me then being smart when we've talked sucks."

You squint your eyes at Finn and say, "Then maybe you shouldn't have cheated."

"I wish I didn't, Y/N!" Finn says, raising his voice. "Believe it or not but I did regret it every time. I hid it because I didn't want us to be in this exact situation."

You raise your voice and say, "Then maybe you should have just told me if you regretted it instead of hiding it! Hiding it did nothing but fuel my anger and hatred toward you. For the past year I have hated you, I have been angry at you, but most of all, I have loved you every second. It's frustrating, Finn! It's frustrating loving you when all you did was hurt me. Last Christmas, when you told me you cheated again, it broke my heart breaking up with you and honestly, I waited to see if you would come back but you never did. Instead you went out and got engaged, and it's not to me."

You've started crying by this point as you let out everything you've been feeling toward Finn for the past year. Everything comes spilling out as you talk.

Meanwhile, Finn's quiet. He's listening and taking it every single word you're saying. He wants to understand.

After sighing and wiping the tears away, you say, "All I wanted was for you to grown and think about your actions. That's all I wanted. Maybe I would have taken you back or tried again at a relationship with you if you came to me and talked to me instead of getting engaged. Now you're getting married and all I can think about is how proud I am of you and happy I am for you while being upset and angry with you."

A wave of sadness comes over Finn after you're done speaking. He finally realizes how much he's hurt you. He realizes his choices haven't been the best over the past few years.

Hesitantly, he reaches out and wipes away your mascara stained tears. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch and close your eyes.

Finn says softly, "I wanted to go back to ya, Y/N. I truly did, but I thought that I'd hurt ya too much and that ya wouldn't even listen to what I had to say. I've loved ya from afar this past year. There's always been a spot for ya in my heart, Y/N."

You look up at Finn, meeting his eyes. You cry, "If I had seen that you had grown and reflected and thought about everything then I would have listened. I'm listening now and I can see how much you've changed, Finn. I can see how genuine and sincere you are."

He looks down at you with a sad expression on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he says, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I truly am."

Eye contact remains as you say the words Finn's been wanting to hear for months. "I forgive you, Finn," is what you say.

He brings his forehead down to yours and he whispers, "I want one thing."

"What's that?" you ask, your voice quiet.

Finn says, "I want a last kiss. Just so we can both move on from this and grow as friends."

You stare up at Finn and say, "I can't do that. You have a fiancée, Finn. Don't do to her what you've done to me."

He nods and looks away, clearly upset.

You would do anything to kiss him again. His kisses always gave you butterflies, no matter where the kisses were on your body. His mustache would always tickle your lip when you kissed him.

You know what, you think to yourself. One last kiss won't be the end of the world.

"Finn," you say, getting his attention.

The Irishman looks at you. You wait a second before hesitantly kissing Finn softly. You squeeze your eyes so the last few years escape and roll down your cheeks as Finn kisses you back.

This is it. The official end of a six year relationship. You're both finally moving on. Finn's getting married and you finally have the closure you never thought you needed as your lips move more and more passionately against Finn's.

Both of you suddenly find yourselves not wanting to pull away from the kiss. Your hands slide up and rest on the back of Finn's neck as you continue kissing him. His hands rest on your waist.

Finn walks so he's pressing you against the wall in the hallway. His large frame pins you against the cream colored wall.

He leans down and picks you up by your thighs, pressing your back against the wall as you wrap your legs around his waist.

It's when his lips leave yours and attach to your neck that you say, "Finn. This isn't just a kiss anymore."

He looks at you and says, "I don't want it to be just a kiss."

"I don't want it either but it has to be," you say. "That's all it can be."

Finn kisses your lips again, this time more passionately and intensely than before. "Stay the night with me," he mumble against your lips. "Please."

In between kisses, you say, "You're getting married, Finn. I can't."

He says, "Ya can. Ya just don't want to."

You pull back and put your hands on Finn's face, holding him there. "Trust me, I want to," you say. "You have no idea how much I want to."

Finn pleads, "Then come home with me. I still live in that tiny apartment. My fiancée doesn't live with me. One last night together won't be the end of the world. If my fiancée finds out and leaves then we get what we both want in the end. Each other."

"That's a toxic way to think, Finn," you point out.

He says, "I know, but I love ya more than I'll ever love her. It's always been ya for me, Y/N."

Your mind begins to race. Do you go back to Finn's and get what you both want? Do you call it a night and maybe regret not going back to Finn's?

No matter what you choose, you'll probably regret in the future. Plus the hope of one day being with him again is the reason you say, "One last night. That's it. That's all you get from me."

Finn pecks your lips and smiles before putting you down and taking you back to his apartment.

As soon as you're back in his apartment, the clothes come off and they stay off until sunrise the next day. You spend all of Christmas Eve mending a broken relationship between you and Finn.

It's a terrible way to fix a broken relationship but you hope it works because you want Finn back in your life. No, you need Finn back in your life.

You just hope things don't get more complicated than they already are after the one last night with Finn.

#finn balor imagine #finn balor angst #finn balor x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling angst #wwe imagine #wwe angst #imagines #imagine #nswf imagine #angst #angst imagine #nxt imagine #nxt angst

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1zashreena1 · 4 years

Text

Trading Trauma -13

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: They share the rough stuff while trying to figure out how to be gentle with each other. And an antagonist?

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Detailed discussion of abuse in all forms- Physical-Mental-Emotional-Verbal*** SERIOSULY HEED THIS WARNING Anxiety attacks, vague hinting at mental-behavioral health disorders, plus size woman+fit man, This one is all feels and

I Am So Sorry.

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

I believe gif came from @girlpornparadise

Its a Friday like any other and Bastian picks you up like always. Only, something is wrong. You can tell because Bastian is silent; absolutely, completely, dead silent.

"So," You try from the passenger seat, "What the fuck is going on that you don't want to tell me?" Its raining and everything in New York is shaded in tones of gray. The gray buildings pass by, people in gray coats with gray umbrellas trudge along the sidewalk, even this SUV is gray. It still has new car smell. What happened that he bought a new SUV?

A muscle tics in Bastian's jaw as he tenses under your attention. Pale green eyes dart to you, then back to the road. Finally, Bastian speaks, "Alicia was here today."

Your jaw drops. "What? Why? Is he okay?" Your immediate concern is Diego, both his physical safety and his mental well-being. Bastian's silence is an obvious negative. After staring at him for an indeterminate amount of time and receiving no further details you go back to the windshield. "We can order food later, just take me to him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diego is stationed on the sectional when you arrive, working on his laptop. Bastian places your bag just inside the penthouse then retreats back into the elevator. That's never a good sign.

Diego looks up and smiles, its blindingly gorgeous and your heart stutters. The laptop gets dumped to the side in favor of grabby hands going for your curves. You climb into his lap, knees outside his hips, loop your arms around his neck, and fold him down into your softness. With a huge sigh, Diego melts into you.

"Princess. Missed you." His rumble is soft and quiet against your neck. He wraps you up tighter and squeezes your squishy middle. "Stay. Please." What started as an order ended as a plea in under two words.

You stroke over his hair, kissing his forehead and nodding gently. "I'm here, baby. Are you okay?" The likelihood of getting a straight answer is slim but you have to ask. You need him to know that you care, that you want to take care of him.

He nods into your neck and settles further. Apparently this is where I sit now. His breathing is normal, he doesn't flinch or jump wherever you pet him, and his clothing is in place. As far as you can tell, he is physically well. The only thing out of place here is his hidden face.

He is surprisingly cuddly in private, your Murder Panther rather enjoys petting, but he has never hidden from you. Its concerning, especially in conjunction with Bastian's hushed announcement in the car.

"What do you need me to do?" You keep your voice even and quiet because you're not sure how upset he really is. Broad shoulders shrug under you, he seems almost defeated. You try a different tact and ask, "Okay, when did you last eat?"

"Dish mornin." Diego mumbles into your skin like a kid. In truth, he is like a large child a lot of the time. He gets easily distracted by activity and is frequently lost in whatever task happens to be most interesting to him at that exact moment. He fidgets minutely under you, a tiny bit of his normal reaction to your presence is evident.

You turn to smirk into his cheek, "I meant food, but if that's what you need, well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." His deep chuckle shakes your entire body. "Where's my phone? Lemme order dinner before you go after dessert."

Diego pulls your phone out of the back pocket of your jeggings and passes it to you, then replaces it with a huge hand. You laugh but proceed to order from that steakhouse you like in Brooklyn.

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

By the time dinner has been completed Diego is relaxed and loose-limbed, sprawled on his back across your lap in the corner of the sectional. He is still quiet, but if you keep both hands on your tablet a little too long he makes his displeasure known with a growly whine. You’ve been absent-mindedly petting him for some time when you decide to try again.

"So, can I do anything to help you? Listen? Massage? Cuddle? Err, cuddle more intensely?" You don't look at him in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable.

Diego heaves a sigh and holds your hand flat to his chest. You can feel his heart, its picking up speed and you feel a little guilty. He licks his lips and finally speaks, "Alicia was waiting for me when we came back from a meeting this morning. She has been questioning my books. I suppose she doubts my math." Diego waves a dismissive hand in the air.

You have seen this man complete statistical mathematical analysis in his head, everyone knows his math isn't a problem.

"Um. First of all, no. Secondly, n-o-o-o." You draw the word out in your sarcasm and Diego snorts with amusement. "Why do you think she was really here?" You ask soberly.

"It is the math. I need to redistribute my surplus. What is that saying? Use it or lose it?" Diego looks up at you from under raised brows, waiting for you to confirm or correct his language.

That is fucking adorable. Your chest tightens with his easy familiarity with you and his trust that you have his back in all things, even something as small as a possible mistranslation. You nod in confirmation, but also need some clarification. "So, help me understand here, you have a surplus of what? Profit?"

Diego nods succinctly. "Technically, it is a deficit of expenses. However, the expenses are paid out of the profits, so I simply hadn't moved the profit surplus into the expense account, which would have highlighted the cost deficit. I attempted to not draw any undue attention to it, but that failed. I must find somewhere to funnel the excess money that would not arouse suspicion."

It takes you a minute to process that whole thing. Diego watches you mentally work through it with amused patience. You now have more questions than answers. "Okay, wait. Rewind further back. Why do you have extra money? Are you not spending as much?" What is happening?

"It is two folds," Diego holds up a hand with one finger raised, you don't bother correcting him this time, "I am not consuming my own product, therefore selling more and netting more profits." He raises a second finger and continues, "I am spending substantially less on incidental costs. Not so many bottles or strippers or whatever. So saving more."

He stares at his own raised fingers in bemusement before muttering thoughtfully, "Julio always led me to believe that women are expensive to keep but you have been saving me money. Hmm." He glances up at you with a small smile, tentative and cautious, so very not Diego-like.

Your shrug is exaggerated, but your flush is not. "Glad I could help? I mean, its my fault this extra money is sitting around, so its my fault she noticed and then came here. I'm sorry, baby." Sometimes when you open your mouth everyone goes on a surprise trip, including you. It wasn't meant to turn self-deprecating, but here you are. You really do feel guilty. My presence has altered his lifestyle and its a problem.

The worry must be obvious on your features because Diego catches it immediately. He rushes to soothe you, "No, Princess. I chose to do these things, or rather to not. You have done nothing wrong. I would rather have you and this problem than to not have you and not this." His right hand comes up to cradle your cheek and direct your gaze down to him. Those beautiful brown eyes are molten, fierce with some emotion you don't want to analyze. It still fucks you up.

You swallow hard and lick your lips, "So what do we do?" Diego follows the path of your tongue with his thumb while his lips curl up in pleasure at your choice of wording. The way he looks at you sometimes, like he might try to move heaven and earth for you, it hurts. You can't decide if you like it or not.

"We must spend the money." He winks at you. "I will invest some and hide it in offshore accounts. If anything happens it will come to you." His air of finality is chilling.

Looking him over, you can feel tears welling up. "I don't want the money. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy being spoiled, because duh. But if I have to make some ultimate choice between money or Murder Panther?" Your hands fling around with impassioned gesticulation.

Diego chuckles, "What does," he imitates your sharp movements, "mean, Princess?" His eyes sparkle with the city lights twinkling in through the windows, but so far he is succeeding in suppressing his smile.

"It means, you know!" You flail your hands around faster, as if that will make your point.

Diego does it back faster, so you interject with even faster movements, and Diego rebuts the same way until you grab his hands to stop him. The both of you dissolve into almost hysterical giggles.

He uses your joined hands to pull your forehead down to his. You can see a dizzying array of emotions swirling in his eyes, its breathtaking. His breathing hitches, brows draw down, and then his eyes close.

"Baby." You sigh, cupping his cheeks gently, "What?" The question is soft, tentative. He doesn't release the hold on your wrists, but allows you enough space to pet him minutely.

"When I have you here it blocks out everything else." Long fingers spasm on your forearms as Diego pauses to drag in a ragged breath, he continues, "I want to keep you here."

I don't know what to say. You're dumbfounded. "What? What does that mean?" Your voice has shrunk down to a quavering whisper.

Diego opens his eyes to look up at you and they are deep enough for drowning. "You are coddling me and I like it. I want you here every day. Give me this whenever I want it." He whispers roughly. Diego studies your form as though committing your features to memory. "You should," that raspy voice hesitates and Diego grips your arms tighter, "You should quit your job and move in with me." He stares up at you in complete sincerity.

You're trying to keep it together. Diego is the one who had a bad day here. You're supposed to be helping him, not having your very own freak out. Think rationally about this. He isn’t here all the time, sometimes he's in LA. I'm not hot enough to be a trophy wife. What would I do all day? Just help him? Wouldn't that just be a different job? Oh my god, if I say yes to this… what if he asks me to go to LA? What if--

"PRINCESS!" Diego's bark cuts through your mental tornado and you blink back to awareness. He is still in your lap, cupping your jaw in one giant hand, while he watches you silently freak the fuck out.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, "I didn't mean to just. Just. Zone out." Your breathing is shallow and you can feel your heart racing.

Diego just watches you, unreadable. You glance down at him then look away. One of the coffee mugs is missing from the tree. Must be in the dishwasher.

"Hey." That rumble is soft and you cannot ignore it. Your eyes shoot down to his again, then away, and you shake your head 'no' minutely. Diego shifts to sit up (Via only abdominal muscles, your entire pelvis helpfully informs you) but keeps a hand on you. He sits back into the corner of the sectional and beckons to you. When you move toward him Diego spins you so your back is to his chest while you sit in his lap.

He wants to maintain contact but not overwhelm me by being in my face. I wonder if he’s been researching again.

Its enough to crack your heart open a little.

His long legs bracket your hips and you smile fondly, it reminds you of all the times spent in the jacuzzi tub. Diego rests his prickly chin on your left shoulder, wraps huge hands around your middle, and just sits there. Your hands pet over his thighs, his knees, then inward to cover the grip on your rounded stomach.

"Logically," you clear your throat, "I know you don't mean it this way. But. I, well, I basically gave up my entire self once before and, as you know, it did not go well." Your voice is clear but soft as you continue, "You're not him. You are so very not him. But I still have… scars." Your hands are shaking noticeably so you stuff them under his. Diego laces his fingers with yours and steadies you.

"You never told me what he did to you. I want to know everything about you, Princess. Let us make a deal, huh?" Diego is always just a little bit greedy and you can only respect that as a fellow hedonist.

Tilting your head to the left, you lean your cheek against his nose, then answer warily, "I'm listening…" You can feel Diego's smirk.

"I will tell you what happened when I was little and you will tell me what happened during that 'relationship'. An even exchange." He stares at you from a few centimeters away and you return the calculating look from the corner of your eye.

Your lips purse while you consider, then offer a caveat, "Only if I can write it out and not speak it." You turn to face him fully. He looks so… soft.

Diego licks his lips, "Deal. Now kiss."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You write out everything you can remember from your ex.

How no one was allowed to know you existed, you could have no title, that it wasn't a 'relationship' despite living together for eight years.

You worked full time, you cooked, you cleaned, you kept a household budget even when it meant emptying your savings account to pay for his bankruptcy filing.

The way you paid all the bills but your name was only listed on the lease, the three cases of beer you had to buy every week no matter how tight money was for groceries, you weren't permitted to hang anything on the walls so your ex could cover them with posters of girls half your size.

You kept your hair dyed strawberry blonde because that was what he liked, because then he would touch you without sneering. The other girls you poached for him to sleep with instead of you. How you were supposed to be grateful that a man would even deem to fuck you at your size.

The wake up call when you argued back the first time after all those years. How he had backed you up to the top of the steep stairs in your second floor apartment and then loomed over you. The way you teetered on the precipice before diving under one of his arms and escaping to the bathroom, the only door with a lock.

How one day while he was at work you stuffed everything that would fit into your car and just left. The way you had to start over from scratch with no credit history or savings. The court proceedings for the restraining order, that you had to recount everything in front of your family, a judge, and the ex himself.

. . . . .

You don't realize how badly your hands are shaking until Diego takes the tablet from them. He sets it down on the neighboring cushion and locks the screen dark before turning back to you. Those huge arms wrap around your middle, on top of your own arms hugging yourself, and pull your back flush to his chest. You ponder his largeness; his thighs are as long as your arms, the stupefyingly huge hands and feet are an endless source of fascination, the biceps are your favorite pillow. You grin dumbly.

"What?" Even at a whisper his voice vibrates deep in your chest. Its not especially deep, but its so rough, it almost reminds you of a cat tongue. Diego watches your face from an inch away.

Left shoulder raising in a lazy shrug, you sigh, "I love sleeping next to you. And I don't like sharing a bed with anyone." You blush a bit with the confession, but its true. "I feel safe with you even though realistically I know it should feel the opposite. You won't hurt me and you won't let anyone else either." Its a direct contrast to what you were just writing about and you say it with absolute conviction.

"Of course not! But, but if I do, accidentally obviously, you will tell me?" Diego sounds simultaneously aghast and condescending but not at all offended by your acknowledgement of his potential danger. Amazing.

You turn to face him and lean your forehead against his. Diego sighs softly and squeezes you tighter. "I mean, I might write it, but yeah."

He makes that adorable scrunchy-thinky face that you love before announcing, "I'll allow it."

Your eyes roll fondly as you sigh, "Oh good. So glad that meets your approval." His sly smile is mesmerizing.

"So. Are you gonna read that or…?" You glance down to the tablet then back up at him. "No, wait," you interject before his open mouth can start making noise, "Tell me yours first. Please." You turn solemn as you consider how bad this might be. Watching his face gives you a hint; his forehead smooths and his eyes shutter while soft lips turn down at the corners. Its his poker face, he is hiding from you.

Diego clears his throat quietly and looks away before he begins, "Our mother died when I was young, before I started school. My Lita said she committed suicide, apparently she was depressed after I was born. Alicia blamed me."

You knew he had grown up without a mom, all of his delighted reactions to your own mother knowing and hearing about him had suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense when he told you. And you already knew that he was close with his grandmother, Lita, that she had looked out for him. And now much of Alicia's behavior made sense, too.

"My earliest memory of Alicia is at age twelve for her. By that point she had convinced our father that it was my fault. I was four the first time he hit me with a belt. The buckle, of course." Diego's jaw grinds, you can see his right eye twitch. You want to reach out to him but he probably won't tolerate it right now. He frequently misreads sympathy for pity. I'm starting to understand why.

"When I was eight she said to get in the car, I was allowed to go to the grocery store with her. The nearest was the next town to the east. Halfway there she pulled over and told me to get out, then she left. A neighbor driving home from the store saw me and took me to Lita. I do not know how long I was out there but I was very hungry." Here Diego pauses and swallows, "Lita said I ate a pound of beans." His wry smile is bitter.

Brown eyes turn to you, his face is closed and guarded at first. You keep your mouth shut and just look at him. Slowly but surely, Diego's big body relaxes behind you, his eyebrows flatten and his lips soften.

"When I was ten she pushed me through an open window. He beat me with the metal frame from the broken screen. At twelve I burnt one of the kitchen cabinets trying to make food before they got home. It was a rake that time. Thirteen was a microwave, I did not know about the thing with aluminum foil so it sparked and it was ruined. Also, I somehow got a video tape tangled in the VCR, I have no idea how. I begged my friend not to leave, father would not do anything until we were alone. It only made it worse." You can't take it anymore, your right hand comes up to his far shoulder and strokes up to cup his jaw.

Diego turns toward you, rests his forehead into your neck, then proceeds to give you more. "I was sixteen when father staged the coup and killed his uncle to take over the cartel. He and Alicia sent me on 'errands'. I learned that these were suicide missions when I turned nineteen. Each time I came home fucked up but alive they were furious. Every time the cartel experienced a setback Alicia convinced everyone it was my fault, that I somehow ruined everything I was given." The seismic effect of his voice has shrunk in correlation to his volume. You can clearly tell that this is the time period when Alicia cemented into his mind that he was a total fuckup.

Rough beard sears your skin as Diego raises his head to rub a cheek on you. You shudder and fist his shirt in your hand. With a deep sigh he goes on, "I was twenty-two when I made my first deal with a cousin. It took three years but we arranged for a rival outfit to give information to the DEA and they took our father away. Alicia decided this was her chance to take over everything but the men did not all take her seriously as a woman. Thus, she finally had a use for me and so here I am still."

You lean into him, rubbing back. Diego is the first and only person with whom you have actively wanted and enjoyed cuddling. He always smells good to you, even when he should probably shower you still like to bury your nose in his hair and breathe deep. Its gotta be pheromones.

"She doesn’t know that you made that deal, does she?" You question cautiously, wary of upsetting him. He shakes his head 'no' and brushes fleeting kisses up your neck to your cheek. You take it one step farther, "So could you potentially take over everything by yourself?"

Diego pauses to meet your gaze, his head cocks to the side just the tiniest bit. "Do… do you want me to do that?" His voice is hesitant, cautious even.

"No." You whisper softly. "I just want you safe. As safe as possible. And I know you'll be safer if she is out of your life." Your smaller hands cup his jaw through their own volition, thumbs stroking over the silver patches in his goatee. Plunging straight into the deep end, you offer an alternative, "Or, if that isn't a viable option, maybe you could quote-unquote 'retire'?" You study his beautiful face as his eyes unfocus while he digests your words. His brow furrows and he purses his lips in concentration.

"That is worth some deliberation, Princess." Diego admits. Then, with a visible shake, he comes back to the topic at hand. "But now, it is your turn. Turn back, huh? I'll read this." Big hands move you around like a ragdoll and you melt a little inside, I wonder if he could just carry me like a baby all day.

You snuggle back into thick torso and sigh with pleasure. Yes, you're still anxious about this but you trust Diego more. Knees drawing up, you hide in your thighs, he only squeezes you tighter. You can hear him picking up the tablet and. And.

Breathe. Just breathe. My jeggings are soft, the couch is slightly fuzzy, his pants are silky, the blanket is plush. I'm here, with Diego, right now. Safe. You practice the grounding techniques that have worked in the past while he reads silently. His stillness is killing you slowly.

Finally, the tablet goes back to the cushion and the second hand comes back to you. Diego grips your stomach tightly before speaking, "Princess. You understand that you are beautiful, yes? I said I love you because I meant it. You. Just like this. Round and soft and thick. With your glasses and your big dark eyes and these curls in so many shades of brown and silver. Smart, sarcastic, funny, ballsy. You are shrewd and sneaky, that's sexy!" He chuckles a bit and you laugh raggedly, trying to hold back tears.

"But," he continues in a milder tone, "I understand why you were unnerved earlier. I did not mean to absorb you, or, or erase you. I only want to take care of you. Spoil you how you deserve it. You understand?" That dark voice directly in your ear is incredibly distracting, and then the words register in your consciousness.

"I, I mean I understand but I don't get it. You know?" Your voice is raspy, you're so tired deep in your soul. This is everything you never allowed yourself to dream of and you're not entirely sure that maybe you aren't in a coma somewhere hallucinating all of this. It certainly feels real, you snort to yourself as you pet over Diego's muscled arms.

Nuzzling into your neck, he sighs deeply, "Oh, I do. You have no criminal record, you rescue tiny baby animals, I have seen you buy food for other people when their card declines, you sort recycling, woman." Here he laughs wryly and you join him. You see his point, you're both from very different backgrounds and from the outside probably don't seem like a good fit. But still…

"Most of my insecurities come from my size and the way that has influenced other people's demeanor toward me. You have never behaved like that, you always treated me just like all other women. It's both confusing and freeing. Like, at times I don't know how to behave but other times I just run with it." Your confession comes out evenly and sounds logical. Huh, maybe I'm finally getting over some of this.

Diego hums thoughtfully from where he is pressed into your cheek. "And you have always treated me like a person, not a bank or just a good time. Or a path to power." His voice is raspy and low, full of emotion. "As though my feelings mattered. Even that first night. You regarded me as an equal." You chuckle with the memory of forcing him to come to you in the club when you first met. His dimpled smile of delight still has the same effect on you. Recalling the morning after when he wasn't at all fazed upon seeing you while sober and well-lit fills you with warmth, too.

Diego goes on, oblivious to your musings, "I want to take care of you as a partner, not take you over. I want you just as you are, I wouldn't have taken you home, or texted you later, or invited you back if I didn't. I will share everything with you. I have kept you from the business for your own safety, but I, but if, if you want to see or learn, I know you would be an exceptional addition. It would change your life drastically and I did not want to make that decision for you; that would not end well."

You can hear the restrained hope in his words. His serious consideration of leaving the business for you is a revelation. He really and truly wants to share his life with you; to make a life together, not simply add you to his own as an accessory. He values your input and observations but doesn't want to put you in a precarious or dangerous situation. Being with him like this already does that. I'm already in this far, I'm IN LOVE WITH HIM.

"I want to think about it. I can't lie, of course I like the idea of being taken care of, not having to worry about things. But I still need to be my own individual, not a dependent, you know?" Its easier when you can't see him, you're less likely to shutdown and go nonverbal. Diego clearly understands this, and therefore you. Its new and novel and comforting and terrifying.

With a kiss to your cheek he leans back a bit to whisper, "That is understandable and reasonable. I have been doing research, reading on normal relationships and not so normal women. I have never done any of this before. But know this: Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Princess. My wealth, my connections, my power, me, my heart, this dick, all yours."

You snort through tears, "That's like a fucking hallmark card, baby." It hurts underneath your ribs, Is this what love is supposed to feel like or am I doing it wrong? He's certainly doing it right. You giggle unevenly before amending, "Except for the dick. That is all Diego."

His laugh is deep and soft. "I have never bought a card in my life. Is that really what they're like?" He asks incredulously. Your enthusiastic nod only makes him laugh harder, the hoarseness of it giving way to wheezing. "That is horrible!"

"I know!" You crow and then collapse back into him in helpless guffaws. Diego wheezes into your hair, grabbing your hands and holding tight.

"But," he pauses to giggle briefly, "But, can we try? Will you at least consider more for me? I wasn't sure when to tell you, but... we are going to split the territory and the duties. I am going to stay here, in New York, full time." Diego declares haltingly, his voice quavers with the fear of rejection. "You can come here whenever you wish and I'll be able to reach you in two hours on any day. I want to be as close to you as possible, close for you."

You turn around slowly, openly gawking at him. His big brown eyes are wet, he blinks furiously and licks his lips in apprehension. This dangerous, powerful, stunning man is afraid of your refusal.

"You… I. I don't know what. That's. No one has ever…" you trail off and gesture vaguely. Your question is thick with shock, "You're rearranging your life for me?"

Diego shrugs half-heartedly. "You are my priority, Princess. I don't want a life without you. Please tell me that is ok-kay." His voice hitches. For this man that is practically begging.

You can feel your throat closing up, its all you can do to nod and throw yourself into his arms. That big body sags with relief as Diego crushes you to him. Burrowing into his neck, you choke out fiercely, "I love you, Diego Jimenez."

His choppy sigh, the soft, "Te amo, Princess." It all shatters you apart. When the pieces come back together again its Diego who fits them into place, Diego who holds you together, Diego who tries to set you free to thrive on your own terms.

This is like the most ridiculously lovesick puzzle in the universe. Fucking feelings.

#damnit diego #murder panther #starz power diego jimenez #rough me up then dick me down #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #maurice compte #zash writes

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bartsugsy · 7 years

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Lo they do get back together right maybe it's because I'm on my period but I cried watching tonight's episode but I feel so upset, how are ED going to fix this.

hey anon!

we’re synched up bless

ok think of it this way

this break up - yes it’s about the baby and it’s about rebecca - but really, it’s about aaron and robert - and it started back in january

like - robert and aaron argued and it was huge, monumental. rob tried to move out, tried to call off the wedding. aaron flipped and put kasim in a coma.

in their next scene, when aaron is still reeling, aaron says “i love you but i hate who i am around you”. like. aaron was already struggling so much. and that was his own shit, more than anything - beating up kasim wasn’t robert’s doing. even aaron’s jealousy, while yes, was rooted in robert’s behaviour at some level, was more a sign of his mental state

and then the police rock up and they get so distracted by the thought that they almost lost each other, could still lose one another, that they cling onto one another with both hands, completely ignoring the fight they had on the night before they were supposed to elope.

but aaron is still in a bad space and he’s having panic attacks and he’s just... struggling - and he’s worried about robert leaving him and about liv

so rob throws him a wedding, as a way to solidify the little family they’ve made and aaron is the happiest he’s ever been, until right at the end, where he admits he’s scared and he and robert have that lifechangingly beautiful conversation - and then follow it up the next day with their goodbyes

prison only makes things worse for aaron and it starts robert down a much darker path too - all of a sudden, it’s not just aaron who is struggling, but we see robert unable to sleep, on constant high alert, sad and lost

aaron has, obviously, a worse time than anyone could have imagined and it breaks him completely

this in turn ends up accidentally breaking robert and he ends up sleeping with rebecca

aaron gets out, talks to robert openly, finally, about what he went through. they end up going away for a month and from what rob says during the reveal, aaron starts to get back to his old self again (which we see for ourselves too).

they talk about it a lot during the reveal - aaron’s mh, robert’s own state of mind, how they’ve dealt, how they’re going to deal. we know that aaron sees the broken bottle and we don’t know what happens there - he ends up going to his therapist, but that’s still very much in his mind. he’s still struggling.

aaron decides to stay with robert and forgive him - and fuck, watch aaron say that line to robert again. he says it so quietly, only gets half the fucking words out. watch aaron’s face from that point onwards. i think... i think aaron just desperately wants to stay with robert, because he loves robert and he doesn’t want to be without robert, but he also looks so unsure. like. i think aaron knew, just as he knew back in january, something wasn’t working. i think he gave into his own desires and ignored what he also knew would be better for his mh - to leave and take some time to get himself better. doing it in this situation that is so fraught, has so many problems, is just... it wasn’t helping him at all.

then, to top it all off, we see aaron and robert find out that the baby is still a reality and it’s even worse. aaron immediately goes into supportive mode and this lasts a short amount of time, before he stops being able to keep it up. robert starts off in snappy attack dog mode and softens pretty quickly - but all in all, what results is that aaron and robert clearly haven’t had sex since the reveal, aaron has isolated himself repeatedly and robert has sort of tried to get him to talk but hasn’t succeeded at all and hasn’t really pushed all that much. at some point aaron starts self harming again. he tries to buy spice again, gets attacked by jason for his troubles.

ultimately, we see aaron and robert fighting, trying to end it and not quite doing it. they decide to run away, that maybe that will help, if they get out of the situation and away from the baby entirely -

and again, they haven’t spoken about it but although the baby started it again, this ultimately started long before the baby was even a possibility, so it never would have worked

- and then aaron is in the car with adam and he sees the scan and throws that wrench at robert’s head.

and the thing is - up until that point, aaron’s behaviour has hurt kasim and it’s hurt himself, but it had never hurt robert. and it’s at that point that aaron shuts down and shuts robert out entirely.

this is the point where aaron talks about how they do this to each other - push each other, how they can hurt one another and how it’s not good for either of them. it’s not just about aaron anymore, it’s about robert potentially getting hurt too - and this is what ultimately makes aaron leave.

and then aaron comes back, walls up, refusing to give robert even an inch - because he knows if he does, he’ll be right back there. it would be so so so easy for aaron to give in all over again - he’s done it every single break up before (#shameless self promo have a read through my break up guides)

and it leaves robert feeling entirely fucking bereft, like hope is gone and he’s lost aaron entirely

- because aaron is codependant in their relationship but robert is codependant as a person and he cannot even begin to understand really what aaron is trying to say - all robert knows is that they love each other

and i think ultimately they need that absurd balance - robert being there to keep them going, having that rock solid faith in them - and aaron being there to put a stop to things when it gets dangerous, to bring them a little more down to earth when they need to, like now, where aaron really does need to be alone in order to try and work through his shit

and where robert actually also does need to be alone to try and work out how to be single, bc he’s incapable of it, and develop a healthier relationship with himself too so that eventually his relationship with aaron will be healthier

that’s not what he’s gonna do tho he’s gonna slip larry some sleeping pills and take over home farm instead

but like - this break up could have been about how robert did something unforgivable, they could have set robert up to have a full on affair with rebecca, they could have done any number of things...

but instead they told this story - horribly depressing and heartbreaking, and yes maybe in some ways it feels hopeless, but in other ways i think it’s actually the exact opposite - it’s about addressing issues that have been prevalent for so long, about the way they’re entirely unable to communicate and it’s been told so so so slowly and

and what i’m saying is that this story has spanned 8 months and is still going and it has been entirely about their love for one another and the struggle they’ve faced and tbh you don’t do that for a couple you plan to drop forever

like... look how in love they still look with one another

like they do - despite all appearances - put a lot of care into robert and aaron’s storyline

just... look at the pete/leyla/priya mess and tell me you don’t see a difference

or any of the couples, honestly. it’s absurd. they put so much care into showing how in love they are that all the other couples on the show feel a little ridiculous next to them??????? you don’t do that for a couple that’s never going to get back together

and look at how much fallout vic and adam got

(any fallout they’ve had has basically been related to robert and aaron it’s absurd)

they’re gonna be fine. it’s the ‘when’ more than the ‘if’ right now. they’ve just gotta get this whole white scheme out of the way first lmao.

#long post #i got carried away...#this is the most unnecessary answer but apparently i wanted to talk abt the storyline #it's been a while #ed #answering anons #robron

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maychorian · 7 years

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Hey:) I'm writing my first fanfiction right now, and I'm unsure about a couple of things, and I would be happy if you could explain them to me. There are so many headcanons and prompts on tumblr, and i want to include some of them in my fic. Do I have to ask the person who posted it every time, or is it okay if I just credit them? Do I have to? How close can I write to other fanfics without giving credit? (because I'm not sure I can find them).of course you don't have to answer, have a nice day!

Hi! This kinda comes down to the fandom, but I’ve always operated on the understanding that this is a remix culture. I am always, always okay with artists taking inspiration from my fics, and I don’t ask permission from artists before I start writing fics based on their stuff, either. Headcanons are a little iffy, I think. They’re more like proto-fics. So if I was going to write something based on someone else’s headcanon, especially if it was fairly long and detailed, I would probably ask to make sure they weren’t planning to use it themselves in their own fic. But that’s just me, I think? I’ve seen lots of posts where someone wrote a headcanon or an idea, and someone reblogged with their take on it. I’ve done that and even had other people continue shorts fic-like posts I made, and no one ever seems to have a problem with it. I think it’s a good idea to give credit, obviously, especially if you’re taking significant chunks of the plot from someone else’s post. But I really can’t imagine anyone being UPSET that their post inspired someone to do something longer with it.

Writing something based on another person’s fanfic is more iffy, again. I’ve had several occasions where I felt inspired to write a sequel or continuation to someone else’s fic, and I always ask permission (usually enthusiastically given). I personally would have no problem at all with anyone writing fics based on my stuff. A couple of folks have written mini-fics set in the Boom Crash ‘verse, and I was absolutely thrilled. And if anyone wanted to continue one of my stories that I’m unlikely to do anything with, like the Mythical Creatures AU and Robin Hood AU I did for Platonic VLD week, I would be enthusiastically in favor of that. But I can only speak for myself. For something like that I would ask permission, but most folks I think would be happy for it.

Straight up plagiarism is not cool, of course. You can’t just take someone’s fiction and put your name on it. But if you want to write a similar plot with a different fandom or even just different characters, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Apparently there have been a few knock-offs of my most popular Haikyuu fanfiction, A Split-Second of Violence, and those never bothered me, though it was a little surreal to read someone else’s story and see it follow pretty much the exact plot beats I used. It’s a little unoriginal, but again, I see this as a remix culture. We’re all playing in someone else’s backyard, and there are only so many archetypes and basic kinds of plots most fans are interested in writing or reading.

I don’t think you should worry much about being original, either, come to that. How many fics are there in this fandom where Lance gets captured and tortured? So, so many. Yet I and other weirdos like me never get tired of them. How many coffee shop AUs are there, for that matter? How many fake dating fics? If it’s a story you want to write, you should write it, because no one else will write it exactly like you. And chances are that someone out there wants to read it.

I think it comes down, as usual, to my basic rules of fandom, specifically the first two.

1. Enjoy myself. This is a hobby, not a profession. If it’s not fun, it’s not worth doing, so that is my number one priority. If something lights your fire and sparks your enthusiasm, do it, even if it’s been done a thousand times before.

2. Inasmuch as it is in me, be kind. If I want to use something that someone else spent a fair amount of time on and didn’t explicitly state somewhere that it was a headcanon or plot idea or prompt free for the taking, make sure it’s okay with the original poster.

This was kind of rambly, and I’m not sure I actually answered the question, but I hope it helps.

#askbox #fandom #meta #Anonymous

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piffle-stories · 6 years

Text

Making it count

Like every other morning Tom was carrying his fishing nets to the sea to tie them on the poles across the shore. Today he stopped short seeing a man dressed up all in red clothes and red shoes on his feet.

He thought some hobo gypsy has stopped by the isle for collecting things. So he went about minding his own business. After quite a while when the sun was shining brightly in the sky he was heading back to his small hut, he again noticed the man in red clothing. He was a curious fellow with thin lips, narrow nose, and eyes looking like boiled eggs. He was mumbling something to himself as he was counting something with both hands.

At that point the man noticed Tom and called out to him.

Hello, young man. Can you please stop by for a little while and talk to me?

At first Tom thought about ignoring him. But then he thought he has nothing to do right now so it will not be a problem to talk to him for a bit. So he walked up to the stranger and said,

How do you do sir? I'm Tom, I come here every day but I don't think I have ever seen you here before?

Of course you haven't seen me, for I have stepped to this isle for the very first time. A friend of mine suggested me to come here.

Oh I see. Where are you from sir? It looks like you came here from a different land.

I'm sorry Tom. I haven't introduced myself properly. My name is Mah tu Jul kul zino. I come from the Mino Galaxy. I have been given this body by our lordship for traveling your planet.

So that is what people call you, by that name?

Of course not, for some reason everyone over here calls me Henry. You can call me by that too.

Well, welcome to our planet Mr Henry. I hope you are enjoying your visit.

The man started laughing hearing that and finally said,

I'm glad to hear that. But it seems like you are the first person to welcome me here. Because I mostly get to hear, are you drunk or do you think I'm stupid or get lost you fuzz face, I don't have time for your little pranks and so on.

I'm sorry to hear that sir. You are most certainly welcomed here. Would you like to come and join me for lunch.

I don't intake food or water but I this human body of mine rumbles every now and then so I eat when I hear that rumblings. I guess, I can have a little lunch with you, if you insist.

Come this way sir.

Then the two of them walked inside Tom's hut. And Tom started to plate up their lunch. Henry made himself comfortable on the tiny bed inside the hut.

Tom has a wooden desk and a chair too, that rests beside the tiny bed. He brings his lunch in the morning when he leaves home from the main city. Then he rides his small fishing boat to get to this small island.

Tom placed a plate in front of Henry and sat on his chair with another plate. They started eating but Tom's mind was occupied by the sudden intrusion of this weirdly clad stranger. So he finally asked,

I saw you on the shore this morning thought you came for something here, have you found what you are looking for?

You see Tom, I come here on this planet with some specific task. A have spent a few months traveling around the world quite a few times, and in doing so I ended up here.

Don't say you have traveled quite a few times, how did you even managed to do that?

That's my bad, I haven't told you anything about my endeavors, still here I am, sitting here on your bad with you.

That's alright sir? Why don't you explain to me now?

Very well, then bear with me Tom, because it's a long story. I came to this planet to measure the land size and how it is shaped. And as I finished measuring the who landscape I decided to go around another time to make sure all the measurements are correct. As I did so, I figured the land size increased slightly. So I measured another time. Likewise I ran my process more than enough time to conclude that the land size is always increasing, very slightly, hard for human eyes to notice. So I tried to measure at what rate the size is increasing. And as it turns out the increase is also taking place at a increasing rate. And it is taking place in such little fraction that one needs to travel the whole world at an incredible speed to take measurements of the whole planet. Now you must be thinking how did I ever manage to do that. Then you should remember that I told you before that I was given this body to travel and experience life as a human. Otherwise I don't have any shape or face. So if I leave this body I can move around at whatever speed I need to travel. So after much difficulties I have concluded, that measuring the increase rate is way more complicated, and than the complex calculations I am equipped with is incapable of this task. So I got a little disheartened by the end of it. But that is when I met a fellow galaxy man who also came to this planet on a separate mission. But for some reason he left his mission and decided to stay here and he want to die as a human. I thought that he must have gone completely out of order. His arithmetic has gone all wrong and now he is just a broken computing system. But he told me, no such thing happened. He also told me to visit this island to understand why he wants to experience life as a human. Now here I am exploring this little island looking for answers that is yet to be seen. But as I stood by the shoreline I calculated that the same number of waves hits the coast every day and it carries the same number of seashells with it. And I know this because I have counted the exact same amount in all the beaches I have landed in your planet.

By the end of Henry's weird story Tom understood, only one thing that his guest is very good at counting. So he thought about asking him to run some computing for him.

Sir, if you have time, can you count a few little things for me as well?

Well of course I can, and that is within seconds.

Here it goes, let's say I cried for one hour last night, can you count how many tears was caused by how many grief?

Umm, one hour, tears, grief... That's preposterous... Madness I say... My perfect arithmetic mind has never heard of such a thing like this. Well how about another one.

Okay, I sorry for...for the previous one, but how about this, lets say, my heart sits on my chest, and it is a tiny little thing but the emptiness inside can suck out the entire space and make it barren. So exactly how much the space is squeezing itself to fit inside the emptiness inside my chest.

Remarkable, I have never heard quite anything like this. Another one, I say try me one last time.

That's alright, but please help me out with this one at least. Few months ago my wife passed away while giving birth. We had a daughter and she is all healthy by the grace of God. So my question is, if you put a scale and put joy on one side and grief on the other and they weigh the same to put the scale in balance. Then what is causing the grief to be heavier to carry? Because even though they weigh exactly the same, somehow I'm finding the grief is weighing me down and I am finding it hard to carry.

After finishing his question Tom looked at Henry and saw tears on the corner of his eyes. So he said,

I'm extremely sorry sir, I didn't mean to make you upset.

Well what is a upset Tom? And what is causing this pounding inside here? He pointed at his heart. And why there is moisture on my eyes?

Well sir, you seem to have forgotten that you're inside a human body and it comes with a heart and a brain. The moisture is tears and that pounding is called sadness.

So this is what you are talking about and asked me to count and compute?

Well, yes. Since you have such good mathematical equipment within yourself.

I am very sorry Tom, I am very sorry to say that what you are asking me to compute is beyond any numbers and parameters.

Oh, I guess I will just have to stop asking questions like this. Because I asked the same questions to this guy, new to this land like yourself. He also said the same thing you did.

You mean a guy with computing skills like me, then that must be my friend who sent me here in the first place.

He was your friend? how wonderful, that is really wonderful to hear. Tell me tell you something sir, as humans it is best for us, to make the days count instead of counting the days.

Thanks you so much Tom. I came looking for answers and now I have got some. Thanks you very much for solving my problems.

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