#this is me working through why I lost interest in a specific ship after recent events and… yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.

Heartbroken.

Desperate.

Lonely.

Rage.

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”

He sent Han Seo letters.

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.

“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.

I thought about you everyday.

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.

“I am going to forget him.”

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”

She turns to look at him in genuine shock.

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming.

“I should go inside.”

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.

Thinking.

Variety is the spice of life.

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.

It’s an entertaining day to say the least.

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”

He does.

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.

Nothing more.

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.

Fuck him.

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.

“Okay. Then talk.”

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.

She looks fucking hot.

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.

I missed you.

I love you.

Come with me.

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.

“Deadly. Get out.”

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.

What the hell.

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.

He could only share those feelings in the letters.

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.

“Hyung!”

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.

“You really chose to stay here.”

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.

“She wasn’t happy to see you.”

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.

He waits.

Breathless and terrified.

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”

“Come home with me.”

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.

“Good.”

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.

“Please.”

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.

This feels like nirvana.

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.

“I can’t feel like my legs.”

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.

“I was right they do look great.”

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.

“No.”

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.

“Yes just like that!”

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.

“Don’t look.”

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

She cries out.

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.

“Today’s our last day.”

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #smut #but you know with feelings #romance isn't dead #you can find it in strange places #like pig's blood #han seo has the best wingman #the mafia family

116 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Coran Smythe #Coran #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #anakin skywalker #Star Wars #Voltron #crossovers #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #parenting

106 notes · View notes

fruitless-nonsense · 3 years

Text

Hello again! A bit of a delay I know, had some personal life stuff, but I’m back babey!

Firstly, I want to say Happy Pride Month! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 I myself have only recently come out, but to all my peeps in the lgbtq+ community I wish you a month of celebration.

For the topic, I chose one that has been circling in my brain since some asks last week gave me a revelation: I will be discussing kolvina, and more specifically the direction the writers chose for a one Davina Claire.

This ship has always been an anomaly to me, like when it was happening on my screen I was in denial that it was happening at all, and the perceptions on this site have only fueled that feeling. I’ve been watching these communities for a few years now, and the general consensus is people both love and hate this ship, and both sides seem to be equal in numbers. So what is my opinion on kolvina? Well after much deliberation I have decided that.... I don’t like it, and here’s why!

First thing’s first, I want to say I understand this ship better than any other ship in both shows, honestly if the characters acted differently it would’ve been a lot better. The dynamic is there (and I know how important that is to people), not just a trope, but between both characters it works! Let me explain, starting with Kol. Season two goes into depth on his insecurities with his family and how lonely it made him feel over the years. I mean, the show always potrayed the big three: Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah with the strongest bonds and while Finn chooses to exclude himself (for valid reasons tbh) Kol even in the vampire diaries wanted to be a part of that. The problem is (for some reason that is never explained) his siblings don’t care about him. The easiest example is how they reacted to his death, Rebekah was upset for a minute and Elijah didn’t even seem affected at all, the closest I can say is Klaus was angered and didn’t forget for a while, but as soon as the originals started nothing. Then we have his second death where Klaus takes the only opportunity to bring him back off the table and the only one who seeks to try is Rebekah, meanwhile Elijah is nowhere to be found in this department. This finally brings us to Davina. As much of an issue as this is (and we’ll talk about it later), Davina seems to be the first person to ever put Kol first. When he dies a second time, Davina’s number one priority is his resurrection and goes to incredible lengths to do so. I know people say it’s unrealistic for Kol to take interest in a mortal, but it makes sense to me, she’s a witch. From what we learn, Kol has a soft spot for witches cause he yearns for the power that was taken from him by his mother, which doesn’t even go into Davina herself being a rebel like him who paved her own way. Onto Davina’s feelings towards him, Kol’s the only person in her life that is there unconditionally. I know Marcel loves her, but his loyalty to his family clearly comes into conflict with his loyalty to his other family, including her. Klaus either ruins her life or demands things from her. Cami was there for her, but they scrapped that relationship after season one. When Kol is by her side, it’s not cause he needs things from her, nor is he there as some kind of protection. In season two, Davina had a plan and Kol’s response was “okay, I can assist you with that.” Side note, I really liked their friendship in season two before they of course made it something more. Regardless of the past, all of this material would’ve made for a pretty great relationship, but it fell flat, why did that happen?

I have two reasons for why I could never get on board with them. The first is the most obvious: it’s the age difference for me. I know we had Damon and Elena and Klaus and Caroline, but for kolvina the vibe was weirder. Perhaps because Davina acts more childish than them in season one, or because our image of her was young and sweet. It might also have to do with Kol referring to being Kaleb as the body of a teenager making him seem way older than he probably is. I know by season three Davina is 18, but that feeling never goes away for me. This was my hesitance in season two, but as a friendship those two were pretty fun together (might be an unpopular opinion). The problems start in season three.

The second reason is something that the community has kind of dipped into, but not enough. I don’t know if I’m not looking hard enough, but every complaint for kolvina in season three talk only about how insufferable Kol was, which yeah definitely, but honeys he’s only half the problem. Not even halfway through season two Davina stopped being a character. Remember her in season one? A bright spitfire who wasn’t afraid to speak up at the injustice of the Mikaelson’s even if it put her at risk? The girl who showed up Klaus on multiple occasions? Who stood for Josh, Marcel, Cami, and anyone else being pushed around by Klaus? The girl who was powerful, yet kind? A powerhouse set up on a warpath against the Mikaelson’s for season two? I remember her! She was one of my favorite characters because of how badass she was while still keeping her agency. I don’t blame you if you forgot she’s never talked about, and that’s because of what follows. Season two starts off well, with Davina standing her ground against the wolves and keeping Mikael under control showed she wasn’t completely in over her head. Her plan is to find a way to de-sire Klaus’ sireline so she doesn’t kill Marcel and Josh which shows she’s smart and thinking ahead. Then she meets Kaleb, and it goes downhill from there. I get that Davina is supposed to be a naive teenage girl, but that doesn’t excuse after she finds out Kaleb is really Kol. After her Mikael plan fell through her backup plan is to just sit around until Kol shows her the room and tells her about the dagger. With what she’s trying to accomplish it’s a smart plan, but that doesn’t mean her sudden trust in Kol is any less stupid. Her first thought when he’s gone with the stake is to assume he took it and left, so if she thought he was capable of that, why did she drop her guard in the first place? Gets me frustrated. When Kol dies Davina also completes the dagger and for the rest of the season does nothing with it, she does nothing period but whine about Kol with everyone she interacts with which is annoying considering how much she was a part of in season one. That was bad, but the worst is yet to come. Season three gives her a storyline as a ruler of the witches before immediately ending it, and when you look at what they threw away it’s even worse. So Davina gets Hayley to kill one of her detesters and it ends in a bloodbath and the son vows justice for his mom (which is completely valid), and Marcel hints at her turning into Klaus. This is promising, in this scenario Davina is Klaus holding power over the powerless, and Van Nguyen is Davina taking a stand. Very interesting, until she gets shunned in the seventh episode. What was the point? The next time we see her she is distraught at her current predicament, but not because she’s cut off from her people and her ancestors because now she doesn’t have the power to bring Kol back (of course it’s for no other reason). I just don’t understand why Davina was relegated to a side character in the later seasons after all she did in season one. They couldn’t have cut anything else from 3a (Tristan and Aurora perhaps, they were so boring)? Finally, we have her characterization after she resurrected Kol, nothing. She does nothing but wait in the wings for Kol to finish helping his family, a family she hated and had every right to. She either does nothing, or is only around to help with Kol’s sudden curse, and yet Kol is supposed to be worse. I know, I know, the big bad Kol Mikaelson became a lost puppy chasing after Davina, but so was she. They were just as bad as each other, two puppies chasing the tail of the other. Then she died, to push forward the plot around her. If you think that’s treating her like a plot device, let’s fast forward to season four. Davina Claire, harvest girl, rebellious teen, former queen regent of New Orlean witches, is a piece of leverage to control Kol. I’m done. There’s not much to say about season five, she only shows up to spout information and that’s about it.

It’s a sad end that Davina doesn’t even get an epilogue in the finale (I mean I have many problems with the finale regardless but I digress). Our only conclusion is that she lives happily ever after with her immortal boyfriend. Oh yeah! They never explain that caveat. She’s a mortal witch who will eventually die of old age, and he’s an original. I’m either supposed to assume Davina becomes a vampire (which would be the most out of character thing for her to do considering she hates vampires and loves her magic), which would mean women making personal sacrifices while the man doesn’t have to give up a thing (such a wonderful lesson we keep telling young women), or Kol became mortal by maybe also taking the cure with Rebekah (which makes a bit more sense since we know Kol misses doing magic). The point is, we don’t know, cause they don’t explain anything.

Look Davina wasn’t the perfect character, but she deserved so much better than what she became, and the worst part is this is barely talked about. Like I said, when people hate on kolvina, they approach it from “they ruined Kol!” And not really mentioning Davina. You’ll notice I mention Kol’s characterization, but I’m not going in depth. That’s cause you can easily find a more articulated response on how they did Kol dirty without having to look too hard, but Davina? She needs all the shoutouts she can get. Cami is overhated, and Davina is ignored. That’s two female regulars in the cast being treated terribly by the community and I will not stand for it! I wanna see Davina Claire deserves better cause she did.

To wrap up a very long post, we need to talk about Davina more, when I said season three was better than tvd I wasn’t referring to 3a, justice for the women of the originals, happy pride month, I’ll try to post more frequently.

#davina claire #anti kolvina #kol mikaelson #the originals #season 3a is wasted opportunity period #Davina Claire deserves better #she really does #women of the originals #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #the mikaelsons #marcel gerard #wasted female friendships

47 notes · View notes

giantsreach · 3 years

Text

part of having written carver since like. 2013/14 is that i can never remember which topics i’ve posted meta on but i’m pretty sure i haven’t discussed his banter with fenris in-depth on this blog yet.

i think something that rubs me the wrong way about the way carver and fenris often interact in fan work is that there tends to be an underlying and fundamental misunderstanding about why carver approaches fenris in the manner he does. i’ve seen a lot of carver talking out of his ass to fenris for no reason other than a ) he thinks he knows better, and/or b ) his overly critical eye wants to fault-find. + he’s annoying or smth to that effect. 🙄

these interpretations tend to neglect the actual driving force behind carver interacting with fenris in the first place, and that’s that carver has had little exposure to other warriors. apart from his time in king cailin’s army, he was peerless ( literally ) in his field, and only interacted with his fellow swordspeople when they passed through town via the imperial highway.

now, there is aveline, of course, but the writing makes it clear that aveline takes on the role of yet another older sibling ( or family of a similar, authoritative position ) in his life, and as such, doesn’t quite qualify as a peer in the traditional sense.

this likely isn’t the most flattering way of phrasing it, but carver wants friends. people who he can relate to, who share his interests and background, who find him as compelling as he finds them. carver may seem prickly or sullen in act i ( and he certainly is at times ), but he’s also experiencing two-prongs of isolation:

1 ) cultural, as a fereldan refugee in a city-state that doesn’t try to hide its hatred of foreign asylum-seekers, and 2 ) mundane, as a displaced young man who has never quite fit in at home nor in any village they've settled in, and who has recently lost the family member closest to him, and who watches his surviving sibling pick up new companions left and right as if it’s not at all difficult.

cut to fenris, who is a consummate swordsman. and while carver is initially on edge because he's under the impression fenris could pose a threat to hawke, once the tension is dispelled, he's far from opposed to fenris's presence. if anything, carver is eager for his approval. fenris is, aside from aveline, the only warrior carver gets to spend any considerable amount of time with, and he's singular in his skill and ability. it's plain to see why someone like carver, starved for peers, would want to establish some kind of rapport with someone as exemplary as fenris.

the problem is, naturally, that carver — nineteen and having never learned to read socialize properly, due in equal parts to growing up sheltered as well as having poor self-confidence — cannot stop himself from saying shit that is so mind-blowingly stupid, that it is a wonder fenris was as forbearing as he was. i'm talking about:

Carver: So... this master of yours wants your markings back? Skin and all? Fenris: So his hunters told me. Unwillingly. Carver: So why not cover them up? Wouldn't that make you harder to find? Fenris: Let them come. I am not one to hide. Carver: Still, if it were me— Fenris: It's not. ─────── Carver: So you've really never thought of hiding from those hunters? Fenris: To what end? Carver: So you could, I don't know, have a life? Fenris: What life do you have? There are no hunters after you at all.

i feel like it should be obvious why these banters are in bad taste, so i won’t go into detail to lambaste carver over his blatant ignorance. the dialogue is proof itself, especially considering how little of fenris’s experience carver ( or anyone else for that matter ) can truly comprehend.

what i will do, true to form, is explain that no, carver did not just pull that suggestion, careless as it was, out of his ass. while hawke may or may not do their best to lay low as an apostate, potentially choosing to engage then-knight-captain cullen over the unjust treatment of mages depending on player discretion, carver has internalized how malcolm guided the family. his father taught them to keep their heads down and be prepared to hit the road in case the circle caught scent of them? then that must be the best way to approach it. emotional neglect unfortunately primed carver to idealize and adopt malcolm's choices and general philosophy. this carries over even to legacy, where, regardless of carver's current character arc, carver will agree that malcolm was correct to keep secrets.

so there's fenris, right, who carver believes is in a position similar to that which the hawkes have been in. carver, attempting to help ( as he is wont to do ), wants to share what had worked for them in attaining a semblance of normalcy, not realizing or considering that that is not fenris's foremost goal. hiding is not a one-size fix-all solution, but carver hasn't expanded his horizons well enough to grasp that fully yet.

then there's largest contributors to my secondhand embarrassment in da2:

Carver: You're very different from other elves. Fenris: Oh? You know them all? Carver: No. I just... you look different. There's no denying that. Fenris: It is what I am. And unlike the problems you claim to have, I really did have no choice. Carver: Do we know anyone who isn't brooding every hour of the day? Fenris: Like attracts like, it seems. ─────── Carver: You know, Fenris, I have a tattoo. Fenris: You have a what? Carver: A tattoo. A lot of us got them before Ostagar. It's a Mabari. For strength. Fenris: Does it curse you with the ability to reach into a man and tear out his insides? Carver: Uh. I can make it bark. Fenris: Please don't.

i’ll start with the second one first. at its heart, the tattoo banter hearkens back to the fact carver wants to feel like he has something in common with someone. yes, it is cringe. but it’s also misguidedly sweet, and on top of that, it’s something carver also tries to do with merrill, who carver arguably has the friendliest dynamic with out of hawke’s crew.

Carver: Your people came a long way Merrill, but I like to think that we have Ferelden in common. Merrill: I never saw Lothering. Did you walk as much as we did? Probably more, you didn't start with halla. Our ship stunk. Carver: Your ship? Merrill: There was something foul in the hold. I can still smell it. Carver: Oh, well, that must have been unpleasant. Merrill: It was. Did I miss something dirty again? Carver: No.

speaking of parallels, the “you’re very different from other elves” dialogue mirrors this one with merrill:

Carver: So, you're not like a lot of other girls. Merrill: No, I'm an elf. Carver: Right. Alright then. Merrill: Oh, did I miss something dirty? Carver: What? No! It wasn't dirty. It wasn't anything.

yes, i took 42069 points of psychic damage from reading that too. but the main takeaway from this is that carver is trying, poorly, to make the two people he thinks he could be friends with feel like they’re special. ( you know, like how carver wishes he was. lol. ) to disastrous results. but i think it’s more than worth mentioning that the intent behind his conversation-making is never once condescending.

and it’s not like carver lacks self-awareness, either. after he becomes a warden and returns to the party for mark of the assassin, he admits he lacked polish.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?

Carver: So, we're lost. Varric: Just like old times. Carver: Maker, I hope not. I was an ass. Varric: (laughs) Fair comment, Junior. All right, let's get this done.

and specifically to fenris:

Carver: Orlesians. Can't build a hallway without turning it into a maze. Fenris: Keep going. I'm sure your training will kick in any moment. Carver: Still don't like me? I've tried to change. Fenris: You have. Now you're dangerous. Let's move.

i don’t know how to end this nearly 1.5k meta, so tl;dr i guess

#( here it is the 1.5k carver re fenris meta i've had brainworms over for litr years #at this rate i'll have one for anders merrill fenris and aveline by 2023 afhouwehd #anyway. first day of work is slow )#( miscellaneous ╱ outofchara. )#( re: study ╱ headcanon. )

21 notes · View notes

ao3-sucks · 4 years

Text

An Archive of Someone’s Own: my experiences being groomed in fandom circles on AO3

TW: Childhood sexual abuse, grooming, mentions of incest and rape.

I used to be a big writer of fanfiction. It was the logical choice for me. I loved to write and create bold and immersive worlds, and I craved an audience who would enjoy my work as much as I did. Since my writing wasn’t actually good, I needed a community of other amateurs who wouldn’t mind that, and by tweaking my characters and settings into ones from canonical media, I got the audience I so craved.

I started writing fanfiction online when I was 14, posting initially on FanFiction.net and then moving to AO3 a few months later. As I got back into writing original fiction towards the end of high school, I lost interest in this community, and it’s been a long time since I posted anything much on AO3.

I’ve always struggled with the fact I display a lot of symptoms of CSA, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. Throughout my teen years, I refused to get changed or bathe when anyone was even vaguely nearby, constantly paranoid about being spied on; I developed a severe touch phobia, and would have frequent panic attacks from something as small as brushing arms with a passerby; I resolutely identified as asexual and refused to get into anything resembling a relationship with others because the very concept disgusted and repulsed me.

Weird, considering I had grown up pretty normal and all of these symptoms had started around my early teens. It was only when I told my friends about my friendship with a 30 year old I had met online that the pieces started falling into place for me.

Child grooming is usually discussed in the context of one adult going out of their way to befriend a child with the goal of lowering their resistance to sexual abuse, through normalisation and friendliness. I’d like to talk about how that worked on the fanfiction website AO3. Since it’s an open website and most communication takes place between anonymous users or accounts in the comments section of a work, there is very little delineation between spaces for adults to discuss whatever dark topics they like and spaces for kids to do the same.

This frequently leads to pretty inappropriate conversations between people of widely varying ages and life experiences, which is how I ended up talking sex as a fourteen year old with people ranging from a couple of years older than me, who were generally okay, to more than twice my age. The 30 year old in question listed on her profile how many pedophilic ships she loved, and she knew my age but pushed me to keep discussing sexual topics with her. Sounds like a red flag, yeah? Well. I was 14, and very stupid.

This 30 year old woman, who I will call Aku (because it’s similar to her screen name and because it’s funny to name her after the bad guy from Samurai Jack) would start conversations with me whenever I posted anything to AO3 and would refuse to take no for an answer when I tried to back out of conversations with her, and since these conversations were public and occurring within comments, I didn’t want to be rude to her since this was taking place on content I was trying to promote.

I told her my age multiple times and she would either pretend she forgot from last time (saying her memory is super bad) or continue as though it was just trivia about me and not a sign she shouldn’t have been pushing me. My primary objection to what she would say to me (since most of it was just her being annoying) was her insistence on sexualising everything I wrote, and her determination to push me into writing pornographic content, which I eventually gave in to.

Yes, she was a terrible person. She emailed me using her personal email address, so I know her full name and place of residence, because she’s an idiot. These emails also contain sexually explicit materials. Nothing much ever happened between us except for these very creepy interactions and the fact we remained online friends for a few years. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t the only person pushing me into creating sexual content. Lots of people would comment on my writing demanding that I show explicit sexual content when I really didn’t want to.

After a while it felt like I couldn’t write a longer, romantic fanfiction without including explicit sexual content. Like my work wasn’t valid without it. Other, more popular writers were usually sexual in their content, and I wanted to be like them and bring in the views, right? So, when I look at my back catalog of works, I can see how my content moved from completely non-sexual to featuring sexual content over time, and the views usually came with. In this way, I was in an environment that was encouraging me on many levels to sexualise my own work, which impacted the way I thought about my creative process.

Here’s another example I remember. When I was a young sprout, I remember reading down someone’s list of fanfiction recommendations and seeing a work called Hug Therapy, which I promptly read. While the work is marked as explicit and containing the Loki/Thor pairing, the use of relationship and rating tags on AO3 is so poorly regulated that it didn’t really mean anything to me to see either of those. People tag hardcore material as non-explicit and tag friendships as relationships, because there’s no motivation to tag properly. Plus, someone I followed here on Tumblr had recommended it to me.

Now, you wouldn’t know from the listing, but while this piece starts out as comedy, it turns out in the end to include rape, incest, and BDSM in very explicit terms. The fact it was tagged as being explicit didn’t slow me down, because the liberal use of these tags could mean that an explicit tag was just there because sexual content was implied or mentioned, which I thought would be the case based on the rest of the listing. Out of curiosity, I recently tried to report this work to the moderators for containing no warnings about incest or rape, and I got this in response:

“Selecting “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” satisfies a creator’s obligation under the warnings policy. Users who wish to avoid specific elements entirely should not access fanworks marked with “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”. Our Terms of Service note: “You understand that using the Archive may expose you to material that is offensive, triggering, erroneous, sexually explicit, indecent, blasphemous, objectionable, grammatically incorrect, or badly spelled. ….. This decision is in accordance with our policy of maximum inclusiveness; we have therefore closed this case and will not be investigating further.”

Which, yeah, I guess. The frustration comes from how ‘Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ is an extremely commonly used tag, and most things that it’s used on are totally harmless.

This fanfiction, which I was recommended by a friend, is hugely popular, in the top 60 most read fanfictions in the entire fandom. You wanna hear the kicker? The author, Astolat, is one of the founders of AO3. They’re not just some random author who isn’t following the rules. They’re a creator of the whole website, and they made the rules. This is pretty telling about how seriously the website actually takes protecting their users.

My final example I want to give is one of fetish content. People in fetish communities generally (not always) say that fetishes are probably something one should work up to after the onset of sexual activity, especially potentially harmful stuff like BDSM. In the circles I was running in, if you weren’t sporting a fetish or two (no matter your age) you were a boring bitch.

Maybe this isn’t true of everywhere in the fanfiction community, but I used to feel that bizarre pressure until I got out. Bear in mind that my main time in this community was from ages 14 to 17. I never made my age a secret, either. I told people outright I was that age, I was in high school, I was playing hockey and studying The Great Gatsby when I wasn’t online.

Since I was in the Avengers fandom and I liked Loki and the Asgardians, I was frequently exposed to incestuous content between Loki and Thor, and a lot of it came out of nowhere or was poorly tagged. This was considered the norm, and while I at first felt completely horrified and repulsed, within a year or two I no longer gave a shit. It’s only in the last few years as I’ve begun to unpack everything that I’ve started to get that strong revulsion reaction to incestuous content.

In the circles I was in, it was relentlessly normal. Normal to the point that people who disliked it were usually shouted down. Even to this day, debate rages on in fandom spaces about whether or not content like this normalises this kind of abuse. In my own personal experience, which I don’t usually like to talk about, it absolutely does.

In real life, this normalisation started to have serious consequences for my mental health and interpersonal relationships. In fanfiction, any occasion when you are alone with someone could become sexual, any familial relationship is possibly sexual, and it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. I became incredibly anxious around male family members for fear of being sexually assaulted, and my OCD, which I had been developing since I was a child, turned from thoughts of physical violence to thoughts of graphically sexually assaulted by anyone and everyone around me.

My fear of being touched got to the point where I would have panic attacks if anyone came anywhere close to touching me. I quit sports, fucked up my romantic relationships, and didn’t hug anyone, not even members of my family, for years. All the while, I had bought my first laptop and was consuming more fanfiction than ever before. I struggled with my sexuality growing up, as I am bisexual, and while fanfiction provided LGBT content to help me, the content was frequently so disturbing that I viewed any expression of sexuality as something evil and predatory.

The community on AO3, whether you like it or not, is often sexual, and provides no barriers between the casual user looking for content and extremely intense fetish material. It’s sometimes called the Pornhub of fanfiction, but considering the wide range of people who use it, it’s more like if you opened Youtube and saw niche hardcore fetish videos just on the front page, recommended and trending.

Sure, you have to click a little button to confirm you’re 18 before you can actually read a story, but the tags and descriptions of readily available works can be extremely explicit. Fanfiction also brings you into close contact with fellow readers and the author, and encourages you to become a content creator, which in some ways makes it more dangerous.

I was affected much more strongly by what I saw than most people would be, because I was already treading shaky ground. But I’m also not the only person out there who has been hurt in this way. Most of my friends who grew up in fandom can report the impact that fanfiction culture had on them. One of my friends from high school knew a panoply of porn terms at age 14 or so due to reading fanfiction, and another of my other friends at high school almost exclusively read rape porn because it was her favourite. I didn’t have friends who watched porn; I had friends who read fanfiction. These are just as troubling to me as any other accounts of young people consuming visual porn from a very early age.

It’s frequently cited that fanfiction gives minority groups the opportunity for creative outlet. It was a great place for me to cut my teeth as a content creator, and a source of acceptance and kindness when times were tough. Fanfiction communities have historically been the domain of women and minorities, and create a space for these people to tell their own stories.

It’s largely because of this that fanfiction communities fear censorship and strict moderation, as they have been attacked in the past on homophobic or misogynistic grounds, resulting in mass deletions of works or the shutdown of websites. But there must be some middle ground between total censorship and the kind of free rein that puts vulnerable people in danger, and I strongly encourage the board of AO3 to seek this middle ground out.

But it’s the community itself that needs to shape up; AO3 is, after all, a community-led website built by fans for fans, so the fact that this website has such issues is a reflection of the issues that run deeply within the people who created it. Aku didn’t talk to me with the intention of doing me harm, or so I believe at this time, and she didn’t pursue me as a lone wolf or in isolation.

She was simply a particularly brazen member of a community that was used to having inappropriate conversations with young people and sexualising everything they did. Even people my own age were jokingly pushing me into discussing and consuming extremely sexual content. It was just normal. That’s what I want to say here. Inside the world of fandom on AO3, the grooming of children with sexual content is normal. And that’s scary.

- Mod Daft

#mod daft post #ao3 discourse #fandom wank #fanfiction discourse #fanfiction wank #csa//#rape//#grooming//#incest//

891 notes · View notes

thebounty · 3 years

Text

Incompatible (Mandalorian x Hunter!Jedi!F Reader)

Chapter Two: This isn’t too bad, right?

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: tension, angst, nightmares, violence, soft Mando for a bit, soft reader for a bit, grammar mistakes most likely. I think that’s it!

A/N: I hope you all enjoy chapter two! I’m still on the fence about if I like it or not, but that could just be me. Feedback is always welcomed! Enjoy :)

Hyperspace was something else. No matter how many times you’ve gazed upon the fast-moving stars, it never bored you. It was calming even though you were literally traveling past thousands of planets at once. You could get so lost in thought while watching them go by, it was a type of Zen you’ve never experienced anywhere else. Not even with your family.

Glancing down at the tracking pad on the counsel, you read that you still had at least seven hours until you reached Voss. You ran a hand over your face and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted, but you did not want to fall asleep. Partly because you didn’t know if Mando was going to use the com to call you while you slept for something, or just to annoy you. The latter seemed more likely. However, the overall factor of not wanting to sleep with the nightmares that sure to come.

Great. Always something to worry about, huh?

Groaning you slumped even further into your chair with your legs sprawled out in front of you, your wool socks grazed the hard paneling of the floor sending goosebumps up your legs. With a few pops and cracks on your back, you knew your body needed some rest. Your eyelids surely felt like steel as they began to flutter closed. You couldn’t help yourself as you drifted off to sleep a few minutes later.

The Mandalorian was in a similar state as you. Not wanting to sleep for various reasons as well. He did not have nightmares to worry about, but he was always on high alert. Plus, hyperspace was a huge escape for him, to just be and think. He knew that Voss was still extremely far away, so he busied himself. Stepping out of the pilots chair he made is way down the short hallway to the ladder and descended down to the hull of the Razor Crest.

It was a relatively big space, holding everything he needed. Small sleeping quarters, a small fresher, some cargo boxes, an armory, and his carbonite chamber. There wasn’t anything down here he would call a kitchen per say, but he had a few travels sized machinery he used as a makeshift kitchen set, like a portable microwave and a small stove top…thing. He wasn’t particular when it came to a home-made meal or rations. He wasn’t a cook at all, so he normally opted for the rations.

He turned towards his armory and pressed a few buttons before it sprung open, revealing many guns, knives, and various other kinds of weaponry. He had to admit, it was quite extensive. The number of weapons he had would be scary to anyone who weren’t Mandalorian. He took out the most recent ones he used and sat down on the nearest cargo box and began cleaning the blasters and knives. Using a worn-out rag, he cleaned every surface he could find that was dull or needed a polish. It was, soothing for him, almost as soothing as hyperspace. Most of the time his thoughts were flooded with a specific bounty hunter, so he used cleaning as his escape when hyperspace got boring. Now, he didn’t know what to do, since he is being forced to work with her now. Cleaning his weapons now, he didn’t feel his thoughts retreating from you.

“Kriff.” Mando muttered under his breath, taking out some of his frustrations on a hard blemish upon his blaster.

He was still coming to terms with how he felt about the matter. There was an emotion he couldn’t quite place, and it bothered him. His chest tightened whenever he looked into your eyes, those fierce and determined eyes. He hasn’t seen you smile often, or laugh around him, considering he was a pain in the ass towards you. He didn’t know what else to be. Mando wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions, and whatever this emotion was exactly, it didn’t feel like the one to verbally show.

You are, entrancing to him. You are insanely skilled with a dagger, blaster, and fighting in general. Your style of fighting was interesting as well, you move so quick and sly, like a loth cat he supposed. Mando recalls a time when you two pared once, he lost of course, that’s why he’s only pared with you once before. However, he loved to watch you when you fought other people, he could never take his eyes off of you when you did. He was thankful in those situations for his helmet, blocking his gaze upon you at all times. He wondered if you ever thought what he looked like under the helmet.

Of course you don’t.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when his hands stopped momentarily after homing in on a low beeping noise coming from the cockpit, instantly he knew it was the com link.

You were calling him?

Instinctively, he shot up and climbed up the latter in only a few seconds. A few hours must have passed because his back ached once he stood up from his hunched position. The door of the cockpit flew open to reveal the sound of the com link beeping at a low tone very rapidly. This only happened when the line on the other end was picking up some distress signal, or any sound of distress.

He frowned and tilted his head, not understanding what sounds of distress it could be picking up since the both of you were in hyperspace. He sat down and twirled around in his chair, hesitating before clicking the button of the com link. His blood went cold hearing a scream on the other end, knowing for certain it was you. He didn’t understand where this sudden act of care came in, he could easily press a button on the com and ignore it. However, the seemingly dense Mandalorian always let his guard down around you, but because of that, he feared it.

Mando said your name quickly but there was no answer just a few labored breaths on your end, causing him to jump into fight or flight mode instantly, gripping the com in his hand.

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you alright? What’s going on?” Mando spoke rather urgently into the communication line, hoping that you could hear him too. Thankfully, there was an emergency button to turn off your mute to him since you did press it before takeoff. You were mumbling something, but it was hardly loud enough to be coherent. His heart was hammering in his chest, he didn’t understand what was going on with you. He feared something happened to your ship, he hoped that whatever it was he could help fix over the communicator.

“Please, d-don’t kill them…my moon.” You sobbed clutching onto your tunic in your sleep. Mando knew then that you were having a nightmare, maybe even a night terror. It seemed terrible regardless. The sounds of your screams were vibrating his helmet. He had no clue what to do, especially being so far away from you, quite literally.

“Hey, listen to me, I hope you can hear me. You have to wake up.” Mando spoke loudly into the com. In all honesty, he had no idea if this was going to work. This was all new territory for him. He has never had to think about someone else’s needs before his own, let alone try to get them to wake up from a nightmare through a kriffing com link.

“Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up!” Mando yelled into the com line, uttering your name a few times before he heard a large gasp and some labored breaths after. You woke up with a start, your chest feeling as though Jabba the Hutt himself was sitting on it and feeling the nail marks in the leather that wrapped around your seat at your fingertips. You scrambled to your feet, feeling more discomfort than the last few times you’ve experienced nightmares. They have always been the same, but this time there was a different voice present. Something familiar-

“Hey, can you hear me? Are you awake? Are you okay?” You heard it again, but this time you knew who it was based on the blinking red light of the com link. You groaned running a hand through your semi-damp hair, probably from sweating. Guilt and dread made their way through your chest. You thanked the maker that he couldn’t see your face, it was probably red and soaked with tears. Your hair was a mess also, which added to the mentally ill look.

Great, he heard you panic. That’s- that’s, annoying.

“Yes. I’m fine.” You hissed before shutting off the com link entirely. You sat back down in your chair, finally coming down from the adrenaline rush you had minutes before. You were so embarrassed. He had to wake you up because of a nightmare, you never felt so childish in your whole life. On the one hand, there was no way you were going to shake this ‘good deed’ off of him for the entire duration of this job you two were quested to do. The Mandalorian on the other hand was speechless. He clutched the com in his hand before tossing it across the cockpit with a large grunt. He was fuming. How could he let his guard down so quickly? He needed to wake up before he made a fool of himself.

“Dang farrick! You di’kutla (you idiot)! How heartless could she possibly be? I just woke her up from a nightmare!? How ungrateful-” He rambled while pacing the cockpit floor. With a shake of his head, he all but jumped down the ladder to the hull to continue what he was doing before he puts a blaster hole in the nearest wall.

You didn’t need the force to tell you that the Mandalorian was fuming. You didn’t know what else to tell him.

“Oh yeah, thanks for invading my privacy of sleeping. Hey, yeah, let’s be friends now that you know nightmares haunt my dreams.”

You screamed of frustration before kicking your chair. Immediately regretting it when pain shot up your shin almost forcing you to sit back down again. To be completely honest, you didn’t know of any alternative scenario for the tin can after all, because you most likely would have done the same thing. However, you were in no hurry to apologize to him now after causing a scene.

These next few hours were going to be a pain.

Coming up on Voss you were greeted with the familiar yellowish atmosphere as you approached. The sky wasn’t necessarily foggy, but it was dense, and the color didn’t add to the fact that it was hard to distinguish where there was a break in the forest to park not only your ship but Mando’s as well. You haven’t heard a peep form him since you cut him off on the com link earlier, but you didn’t mind. It allowed you enough time to figure out what you were going to even talk about when you landed, or what an initial game plan would be for you two.

After what felt like ages, you both landed in a decently open area. You scanned the area upon landing and after reading the map you were about a day walk to the city and maybe a few miles from The Nightmare Lands, so that was great.

Mando parked and shut down his ship before advancing into his cot to gather anything he needed from there. It wasn’t much since he didn’t change clothes often, especially in front of others, so he was glad that he was wearing a new pair of fresh clothes. Descending into the hull, he slung his rifle over his shoulders, holstered his blaster, and made sure his vibroblade was in his boot. After stuffing his relatively small pack with the fracking fob and some rations, he pressed the button to open the ramp of his ship.

A gust of wind made its way through the hull causing him to stumble back a few steps. After gaining his bearings, he made his way onto the planet floor. It was relatively warm, pretty foggy, and just dense. He’s seen worse for sure, however being here with another person, just made it a tad more unlikeable. He scanned the area with his helmet before taking a few steps and sitting on a nearby log. Signing as he slumped down, he grumbled under his breath.

“Enteyor iviin’yc dala. (be fast woman).”

He was definitely wrong.

You put your ship on ground defense mode first thing before climbing down to the small hull of your ship to gather anything you needed. Landing on the floor you grabbed your backpack before folding in some extra clothes and a few rations to last you at least three days. Hopefully, this didn’t take that long. You were…hopeful about this bounty. You’ve never taken down a gang before though, that’s why you were strictly remaining just that, hopeful.

You were dragging your ‘getting ready’ for as long as you could, just to tease the Mandalorian a bit, but also for the fact that you did not want to confront him about your nightmare just yet. You strapped your lightsaber to your back after taking it out of its hiding place, which was a small sliver of metal that wasn’t attached to the hull of your ship. You pulled your cloak over your shoulders and tied it in the front of your neck and slipped your black gloves on before bracing yourself as you pressed the button to lower the ramp with a loud screech. Once the ramp was fully on the ground, it revealed a remarkably interesting image. The Mandalorian perched on a log that was definitely too small for him. You chuckled lowly before making your way down the ramp.

Mando visibly sighed before putting his hands on his thighs to hoist himself up. You were dreading any form of interaction with him to be honest, and so was he. You both didn’t have a single clue as to where to start with each other, or what lines that were never to be crossed. The basics for sure.

Where did you grow up? How is your family? Do you have a family? What dark secret’s can you unfold?

Those were a no go, even though you were both curious to know.

“Took you long enough. I feel like I’ve been sitting out here for hours.” Mando huffed stretching his back rather exaggerated. You laughed.

“Key phrase, I feel like. You didn’t actually sit here for hours, if you did, I bet you would’ve left by now. Try saying what is true and not try to be smart with me.” You smirked seeing his visor tear through your eyes. He knew you were right; he would have totally left you by now if it was just one bounty not a kriffing mob. The dense air didn’t add to the already blooming argument. You shook your head and sighed, bracing yourself or what you were about to say, and about to do.

Let your guard down.

“Look, I’m going to cut right to it. I know we both don’t want to be here. However, I know that we are more than capable of getting this done as long as we work together. I know it might sound impossible, but we need to not be at each other’s throats. I’ll watch your back and you will watch mine. I have no doubt that we can both do that, but I would much rather not argue in between. Especially since they have the advantage of knowing this planet better than we both do.” You said as calmy as you possibly could, trying to speak your phrase into existence, and have hope to any maker out there, that the Mandalorian would comply.

On the contrary, Mando was fuming under his helmet as he stepped forward towards you, pointing an orange leathered finger at you.

“Weren’t you the one earlier that shut off your com after I helped you? How am I supposed to help you if you won’t let me?” He seethed, not wasting time to go against your wishes. You would have groaned out of annoyance but Mando was awfully close to you, almost too close. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Instead, you decided to sigh and look down at his boots, biting the inside of your cheek to try and regain some composure, before looking up at his visor, not even a foot from your face. You wanted to argue, but if you went against your own suggestion, there was no way he would comply then.

“Look, I am sorry about earlier. Truly. No one has ever seen me like that, so I shut down. We need to trust each other if we are to get this done. That is all am saying, and I am ready to do that. Are you?” You questioned, speaking slowly and quietly. Mando was still close to you, he could see your chest rising and falling with your steady breathing. His now returned to normal.

Mando nodded slightly. If you weren’t this close to him, you for sure would have missed it.

“I- “Mando started but you quickly cut him off. Not wanting to drag this on further than needed.

“Can we please just get on with this?” You quickly said, shocking yourself when you didn’t argue further, or want to. You usually never gave into an argument that easily, but you just wanted to forget about your nightmares for now and think about the task at hand. Mando was surprised too, his helmet tilting slightly looking down at you.

“Ni ceta” (I’m sorry).

Your heartrate picked up after hearing his thoughts as clear as day through your head. You didn’t mean to read his mind.

How did you do that accidently?

You looked away suddenly, not being able to meet his dark gaze for another second. He felt your discomfort and took a step back clearing his throat. All he could fathom to do was nod his head again, clearing his thoughts as he reached into his pack for the fob.

“Well, we should start walking near the last known location, Voss-Ka. It’s a long walk. But no longer than a day I’m guessing.” Mando spoke slowly while looking at the fob then back up at you. You were leaning on one leg, arms crossed, and brows knitted together listening to him. You nodded and secured your bag on your back.

“Well, lets get started then. I have no clue how the cycles work on this planet, so lets make do with the light we have right now.” You offered while Mando nodded quickly, starting in the direction you two needed to go. Taking a deep breath, you fell into step with him quickly before descending into the dense forest in front of you.

The trees were mostly only two colors, red and a dull yellow. The planet floor was also yellow, blurring everything together and making you slightly dizzy as you walked. The crunch of the ground was also annoying, well you certainly could not farm on this dry planet that’s for sure. Large rocks were present as you walked through the forest, and huge tree stumps in peripheral view, it looked menacing. However, those things are easily avoidable, but the smell of this planet was not. An interesting combination of sulfur and campfire smoke danced around your nostrils making you want to wrap your cloak higher on your face. This was the safest option for you two though to not draw any unwanted attention on yourselves. Hopefully, the forest would not have any unexpected visitors.

Mando was not fond of having to walk through a forest to get to this city, he would have much rather parked right outside of the city walls, but you insisted on coming in quiet as to not draw attention on a planet that held rather gruesome citizens. He agreed because unlike him, you’ve been here before, so he took your word for it.

“You said you’ve been here before, right?” Mando spoke, breaking the silence you two were previously walking in. Stepping over a fallen tree you nodded.

“Yes. Only twice though, and they were both relatively short trips. The bounties I’ve collected here were easy to find. Almost too easy.” You chuckled thinking back on the memories. They were both stupid bounties, hiding out in the villages scattered throughout the planet. If they were smart, they would’ve hidden in the city. It was harder to find bounties in the city.

“Hmm. Guess they hid in the villages then?” Mando questioned, understanding what an easy bounty meant. You nodded.

“Yeah. Stupid halfwit.” You shook your head with a small smile as you recalled the look on your bounties faces. Mando was happy you two were getting along for once, even if it was only a few sentences, it was a start at least. But that did not change the way he thought of you.

Obviously. Mando cleared his throat.

“We should try to get more than halfway there and set up camp. So, then we will be able to get to the city in the morning and track their last whereabouts.” Mando spoke while increasing his speed slightly to stay a head of you in the woods, however it was difficult given the terrain.

“I don’t want to see what might be in these woods any longer than we have to, so that sounds like a plan.” You added, moving a branch away from your face before it smacked you. Mando only hummed in response as he leaped down from a rather large fallen tree. He turned and offered his hand to you to help you down. Mando knew this was out of his nature, but like you said earlier, try to be nice to each other. You scoffed and jumped down next to him obviously not wanting or needed his help as you carried on. Mando sighed.

That’s more normal at least.

A few hours of silence flew by and a dozen fallen trees later, you both stumbled upon what seemed to be ruins of some kind. It was the first sign of life you both came across so far so it was somewhat comforting for a minute, before you realized you might have found something else.

You remember reading about some ancient Jedi and Sith temples that were abandoned on this planet, the thought made your throat tighten. You were not in the mood for anything else about you to be revealed to the Mandalorian. He seemed rather curious as he scanned the ruins for any life forms. Like there was any, you said in your head as you looked around as well. The setting sun created a rather jarring image in front of you. The shadows that were casted worked very well with the many oranges, yellows, and reds that the land was now covered in from the sun’s rays. Large stones were around in a circle, then some smaller ones in a semi-circle in the middle surrounding a large stone. Some stones were broken in half, and others fallen over. But the structure was nonetheless breathtaking in this lighting.

“The scan doesn’t pick up any footprints, or signs of life here.”

“Well obviously, look at this place. It’s been deserted forever.”

“Hey, I was just taking precautions- “

“Well can’t you just accept the obvious- “

“No, you listen to me I- “

A rustle.

“Wait Mando- “

“Oh, now what!? Can’t you just listen to me for once- “

“Stop! Did you hear that?” You half whispered to Mando after hearing what sounded like heavy breathing, almost panting, like you would be after running. It wasn’t Mando’s breathing. You could recognize his modulated breathing anywhere and it was certainly not you.

You frowned, how come Mando didn’t pick up on the obvious breathing from his helmet? It was a life form, right? Why did his scan not pick up the life form, or forms? Unless they managed to sneak up on you or it out of reach from Mando’s scanner.

You looked around slowly, as did he. You both turned your backs, so they were almost touching each other so you are guarding the vulnerable side to each other, as if on instinct. You gripped your blaster the same time he gripped his. If anyone was watching you both, it was like you two were mirroring each other, exactly the same movements, and even the same breath. You tried to focus on any sound that you might be able to pick up with your ears as Mando listened through his now heightened helmet. You had an uneasy feeling about this. Whatever it was.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” You whispered to the Mandalorian, now gripping your blaster harder.

“Oh- you should little girl. But it was quite entertaining to hear you two bicker.” Came a voice from the distance causing both you and Mando to point your blaster directly at them. It was a Devaronian man. He was tall, dressed in all black, with horns probably as big as your forearms. You knew they were strong creatures, but what is one of them against both of you?

“There are two of us and one of you, why should we be afraid?” Mando pipped in, as if he heard what you were just previously thinking, not faltering once with his blaster. Your chest tightened; he wasn’t the only one.

Kriff.

“Because he’s not the only one here, Mandalorian.” Chimed in another Devaronian from behind. You turned around while Mando still faced the first man, this next one had a few more friends. Well, at least five more friends.

Great, this was spectacular.

“You had to speak so soon?” You whispered over your shoulder, slightly seeing Mando tilt his visor towards you. The fob on his belt was not beeping, so this could not be the gang you were after. Your blaster was aimed high still as they surrounded you both. This was not good, not good at all. No matter how good of a fighter you and Mando were, there was no way you could escape as least three Devaronian men and four other humans. At least you guessed they were, it was hard to tell in this light.

“Ah, who is the pretty lady? This one wouldn’t happen to be yours now would it Mando? That would be a shame.” One of the men spoke. He was disgustingly pale, had long dark hair, and one tooth missing from the front as he grinned towards you. You could’ve vomited right at his feet.

“No. I am not his, and never will be. Now back up before I blast you in the chest.” You seethed, gripping your blaster even tighter. He only laughed as the other men moved closer into you both. A few more steps and they would have you pinned against Mando’s back, you could feel his cape on your ankles. You sensed that Mando was trying to think of a way out, as were you. But you could not think of a way out that did not require the use of the force. You were not doing that.

Mando was insanely tense. He didn’t like the way these men were starring at you like a piece of meat. No matter how many times you two would argue and get under each other’s skin, no one deserved that. With the thought his grip tightened even more, he knew if he didn’t have his gloves on his knuckles would be white.

“The little girl has a bark, but what about the bite? You both can’t take us.” Another man spat from behind you. Mando could see him, and he moved his blaster in their direction instead.

“Let us go, and you can all walk away with your lives. We are just passing through; we mean no harm.” Mando spoke, trying to reason with them. You knew it was a good attempt, but useless with these men. They looked to be smugglers, and they were not about to walk away empty handed. You were battling in your head. If you used the force to kill these men, then the only person you’d have to answer to was Mando, and maybe you could convince him to stay quiet about the matter.

The idea was starting to become more endearing as one of the men reached their arm towards you, cupping your face slowly. You didn’t dare move or even blast him as you lowered your arm, afraid of what his friends would do if you tried. Surly they would ambush you, and you weren’t about to let yourself and Mando die. Above all, they were not about to steal your lightsaber. Mando was all out of ideas, he was remarkably close to just surrendering and attacking when they least expected it. You felt it in his aroma. You knew you had to do something.

“I said, don’t touch me.” You muttered letting your voice quiver a bit, trying to sound as scared as you could to throw them off. You sensed Mando’s discomfort and- was that protectiveness you felt?

Nope. That couldn’t be true.

Your mind was made up. You knew what you needed to do. You reached out to Mando through the force, trying to get in his head for a moment. You felt the energy around you, having the advantage of being in an old Jedi temple, you felt strong. You heard his breath hitch slightly as you focused on what you were going to say. Mando suddenly felt as though someone was slightly squeezing his temples together, he dared not move, he didn’t understand what was going on. It felt…familiar a little bit. His blaster did not falter when the feeling of something tickling his brain increased, and then a voice.

Your voice.

“Blast the three in front of you when I say to.”

“Oh sweetheart, you can’t tell me what-” The man started but was hilariously cut off as you raised your blaster and shot him in the chest as fast as a millisecond. If someone blinked, they would have missed it.

“Now!” You shouted before you rolled on your back. Mando worked quickly shooting down the three men in front of him as you worked on the remaining men in front of you. Dagger in one hand and blaster in the other, you shot down one man and used your dagger to slice another’s leg. Mando reacted quickly and turned towards you, knowing you were outnumbered by yourself; he flung his arm out and shot his grappling line to the man you injured with your dagger. As it wrapped around him, he heard a scream from you. Turning momentarily, he saw that you were pinned to the ground by the large Devaronian. He had you in a choke hold, you gripped their arm as he slowly retracted his knife from your abdomen.

“You’ll die for killing my brothers.” He grinned at you wickedly.

Quickly, Mand retracted the line and brought out his blade and drove it into the man’s back he had trapped. Dropping the man hard on the ground, he aimed his blaster at the Devaronian on top of you before halting his movements at the scene before him. He was, floating- no levitating above you now, not moving. Not even a scream came from him.

Okay- what?

You moved your arms quickly and the man hit the tree with a loud crack! His back was definitely broken as he fell to the ground, dead. You were panting and felt a huge pain in your side. Placing your hand there, you brought it back only to find it dripping with crimson blood. You grimaced and groaned as you fell back against the ground. You felt someone above you, you hoped to the maker it wasn’t another attacker.

Mando was panting, still gripping his blaster. He was mostly confused but you felt his concern as well. You could sense easily that he had so many questions.

You don’t blame him.

“Ask me later, but please help me up.” You whispered reaching out the arm not currently clutching your side. Mando took it quickly and helped you to your feet and let his arm slide around your waist to help keep you up. If you weren’t in pain and not exhausted from using the force, you might have liked this.

No, you most certainly wouldn’t.

“Where were you hit?” Mando whispered as he walked you two away from the scene, he found a dense patch of trees, one large one was fallen over the top creating a small shelter.

Well, it checked off two boxes for you two at least. A place to help patch you up, and a place to stay for the night, that wasn’t out in the open.

He set you down gently, leaning against a tree. He kneeled in front of you, waiting for your response. Your breaths were staggered, but not shallow. That was a good sign at least, Mando thought as he checked you for any other signs of injury or discomfort. He mentally checked over himself, but he was not hit.

“His knife got me on the side. I don’t think its deep. But I could be wrong.” You stammered watching as Mando took off his pack to rummage through it, looking for a bacta patch for you, and maybe thread.

“I’ll have to look at it.” Mando said between looking through his bag and peering up at you once in a while. Your eyes felt heavier with every passing minute. He took his hand and secured it on your chin, forcing you to look at him. You stopped breathing for a second.

“Hey, I need you to stay awake, just as a patch this up. I need to lift this, is that okay?” He whispered as his fingers lingered below your long black shirt. Your cloak was already off next to you and definitely had some blood on it, leaving you feeling vulnerable. You nodded, knowing your voice would fail you if you tried to use it. Your breathing became ragged, but not because of the pain.

It- it was just the blood loss for sure.

Mando nodded quickly before taking his gloves off and lifted your shirt, setting it down on in the lower part of your chest. The cut was on the lower left side of your abdomen and traveled upwards in a slanted motion towards the center of your stomach. It was deeper than you both previously thought, causing him to sigh slightly. You for sure felt lightheaded as his fingers settled on the skin just below the cut. His skin was golden brown, and you knew it was somewhat of an honor to see a Mandalorians skin, they keep that hidden from people, it was a part of their religion. You tried not to think about it. Mando’s hands were oddly soft for how many callouses there were on them. You felt goosebumps erupt on your skin- no, stop.

It’s the blood loss, it’s the blood loss, it’s the blood loss, it’s the-

“I’ll need to stitch it. Then after I’ll secure it with a bacta patch.” He spoke lowly, glancing up at you with his visor. You were staring at your wound, saddened at the thought of a new scar. Your gaze shifted upwards to him again and nodded slowly, trying not to remember his hands on you.

“Do what you need to do.” You muttered gripping his forearm for reassurance before dropping it back to your side. You let your head hang back against the tree as you felt him get the needle and thread out of his pack.

“This might sting a little bit.” He assured as he assembled the needle and thread before getting to work. The first threading hurt the most, well, it was uncomfortable. You’ve done this countless times on yourself and for the first time ever, you were happy someone else was doing it for you.

It was relatively silent as he stitched you up, but you could feel his mind racing. Mando was confused to say the least, but he was more focused on the task at hand. He tied up the end of the thread before putting the bacta patch over it and lowered your shirt back over you.

“It should be fine, but you should change the patch in at least two days.” Mando informed you as he put everything away, slipping on his gloves again in the process. You nodded as you got comfortable against the tree behind you. Mando sat across from you.

“Thank you. I appreciate this.” You smiled softly as you brought your cloak over legs to keep yourself warm now that the sun was fully set over the terrain. The soft light of the moon reflected off of Mando’s helmet creating a wonderful glow. You had to admit, the beskar was beautiful, and if you truly didn’t despise the man in front of you; you might have enjoyed the sight.

However, you do this time. Considering he did just patch you up. He could’ve left you for dead, carried on with the bounty, and got the whole reward for himself.

Mando was silent as were you for a while, you felt his tension calm down from earlier as he sank against the tree across from you more. You could tell he was avoiding your gaze even under the dark visor. To be completely honest you couldn’t blame him. Working with someone he didn’t like and now finding out she had weird sorcerer powers? Yeah, he could not comprehend that. Mando always seemed to get into interesting situations. You didn’t even know where to start to try and answer any questions he had without giving away too much about yourself. On the contrary, you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t. Not until you two left this planet anyway, you could not have him spill this secret about you.

“It seems like we make a good team, huh?” You whispered, trying to lighten the mood and tread carefully.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Mando said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You heard his next statement before he could utter it.

“Tell me how you did that, that thing,”

A beat.

“Or I’ll kill you.”

Oh. Oh shit.

Tag list: @tillytheslytherin

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#mandalorian #mando x reader #din x reader #din djarin #hunter #bounty #din djarin x reader #din x female #jedi #jedi reader #baby yoda #mandalorian season two #mandalorian season one #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you #bounty hunter #razor crest

61 notes · View notes

ryukoishida · 3 years

Text

QianQiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: [Ch. 2] In which teacher!SQ and mafia leader!YWS talk for the first time.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 2/? Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: No more touching this fic until I’m done with the finals T.T List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3]

ii. No Saint

It was pitch black when Shen Qiao woke up. He blinked once, twice – endless black, deeper than the night — his breath stuttering in his throat and heart thudding against his ribcage in that strangely familiar, bitter taste of terror: the inability to perceive light, the anxiety of facing the unknown.

“You’re finally awake?”

A deep voice entered his consciousness like distant thunder, rumbling with warmth yet charged with danger.

A light to his left blinked on, cold white fluorescent flooded his peripheral vision and made Shen Qiao’s eyes sting from the sudden brightness. When his pupils adjusted to the light at last, he was able to make out a fuzzy outline of someone sitting by his bedside. The figure was mostly cast in shadow, but even in the best lighting, it would have been impossible for him to see anything further than half an arm’s length with any semblance of crisp clarity.

Driven by habit, Shen Qiao began to reach blindly to the side for his spectacles, which, of course were not there.

“Looking for these?” the man with the same deep, baritone voice asked, placing a piece of mangled metal that used to be his glasses into his hand.

Feeling the warped titanium remnants with his fingers, Shen Qiao heaved a soft sigh. He knew there was no way these could be repaired, so he’d have to endure the inconvenience of blurry vision until he could get new glasses or get his hands on some contact lenses, which had long fallen out during his rough scuffle with He Huan Group’s people.

Not that it was anything new – the cloudy eyesight �� since he’d spent most of his childhood with his eyes in even worse state until he was in his early teens when Qi Fengge persuaded him to undergo surgery, which had improved his ability to see if only just slightly.

Wandering in his own thoughts though never allowing himself to be defenseless in an unfamiliar environment, Shen Qiao suddenly sensed more than heard the stranger invading his personal space – the surrounding air becoming too hot from the man’s exhale and body heat, too stifling from how close and physically intimidating the man’s presence exuded, looming over him like a hunter anticipating the taste of its prey — and Shen Qiao tried to back up as best as he could, given how parts of his body were too numb from sleep or too painful from the fight to move promptly.

The man chuckled but didn’t advance further upon seeing Shen Qiao trying to shuffle back to keep his distance.

“Are you sure you should be moving around like that?” the man sat back down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he continued to observe the injured man with an interested gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Ever the polite gentleman, Shen Qiao realized that he was acting quite rude to the person who’d rescued him from a terrible situation that he very likely wasn’t going to get out of by himself. Still, his delicate frame, warm hazel eyes, gentle smiles, and soft-spoken nature all contributed to a first impression of a man who was agreeable and amiable, maybe even somewhat unassuming to the point of foolish naiveté, yet those who’d been acquainted with him long enough knew that beneath his kind and considerate disposition was someone constructed of steel bones and unyielding morals.

There was a reason why he was known to be an anomaly in the underground world, crawling with all sorts of criminals and infested with coldblooded monsters that found thrills in destruction and the fall of humanity. Shen Qiao was the adopted son of a once-famed assassin Qi Fengge, who’d retired for the last decade now but had since headed one of the largest and most formidable assassin organizations that employed the best professionals good money could hire.

“You’re a funny one,” the man commented, hint of amusement seeping into his voice. “What are you sorry for?”

“I just… don’t like it when people I don’t know well get too close to me,” Shen Qiao explained quietly, his body visibly relaxed a little once he knew the stranger had backed off. “I did not mean to be disrespectful to someone who’d saved my life.”

When the stranger didn’t immediately respond, Shen Qiao continued with hesitation, “may I know the name of my savior?”

“Yan Wushi.”

He seemed content enough to offer that, at least.

“Leader of Huan Yue Group?”

Shen Qiao’s slight frown didn’t go unnoticed by the ever-observant mafia leader.

“You’ve heard of me?” Yan Wushi leaned in just a degree.

“My father had told me about you.”

Also, Shen Qiao didn’t think it was a good idea to say it out loud, but he knew that in recent years, Yan Wushi – and really, all of Huan Yue Group – was infamous for being gutsy enough to be striding the border between the criminal world and the political sphere, and still benefit greatly from both.

“All good things, I hope.”

“Huan Yue Group mixes with government officials – specifically Yuwen Yong’s faction – and gets on their good side either by offering them financial assistance under the table or getting rid of any political opponents that stand in Yuwen Yong’s way through any means possible,” Shen Qiao recited the information like he was memorizing it from a textbook.

“It’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” Yan Wushi admitted.

Shen Qiao’s frown deepened when he continued, “several deaths and disappearances had been suspected to be connected to members of Huan Yue, but the police never found any solid evidence to arrest or lay charges on anyone.”

“You can’t possibly blame us for the police department’s incompetence. And here I thought you’re blissfully ignorant of how our side works,” one corner of Yan Wushi’s lips twisted upwards, his interest in this frail-looking man had been elevated from indifference to modest curiosity. “It seems Qi Fengge had taught you the basics after all, despite the fact that you’re not expected to be his successor. Fascinating.”

“Father simply didn’t wish for me to be completely uninformed,” Shen Qiao exhaled, letting his eyes fall close as if he’d suddenly become too tired. “Having knowledge is a kind of advantage, though it may not seem like it at the time. I didn’t want to take over the family business, and father respected my decision, but he said even if I have no desire to work underground, the underground world will still find its way to catch up to me eventually. He was right, of course.”

He sounded exhausted, like he’d been running and escaping for years, and every time he thought he’d gotten ahead of the bloody claws of the clandestine world, it came at him snarling with gaping jaws, a cruel reminder that no matter how far he thought he’d gotten away, no matter how hard he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t part of the bloodthirst and violence, the mere fact that he was the son of Qi Fengge, the prodigious assassin’s greatest strength and weakest link, had already sealed him to a certain fate.

Shen Qiao loved and respected Qi Fengge. When Qi Fengge found him beaten and half-starving on the street and took him in one rainy night, five-year-old Shen Qiao would have never thought he’d feel the warmth of family and safety of a home again after he’d lost his parents.

He wanted to repay Qi Fengge in any way he could, but when he was old enough to finally understand what kind of organization Xuan Du was and what Qi Fengge’s real identity entailed, Shen Qiao was torn: he could – no, should – accept the position, train hard to become Qi Fengge’s next successor, and take over Xuan Du and its commitment to only execute those who were deserving of it, if only for the sake of doing what he could to show his gratitude towards his adopted father, yet his righteous moral compass and absolute belief in humanity’s good nature – borne from his education and the teachings of his father – forced him to make one of the most difficult decisions in his life.

It was ironic, how the assassination group operated under Qi Fengge’s guidance: Xuan Du Group only accepted jobs whose targets were beyond anyone’s saving and the victims’ families’ reconciling, their crimes numerous or excessive, their sins unpardonable. But who were counting the number of lives taken away by the hands of Xuan Du’s assassins?

Yan Wushi’s baritone voice pulled Shen Qiao back to the present.

“Everyone says the adopted son of Qi Fengge is different – refined, pristine, pure-hearted, a white water lily untainted by the dirty muck that brought him up,” Yan Wushi watched him closely for any flicker of emotion, “but I don’t believe that a person can truly remain unaffected by the surrounding environment.”

Yan Wushi moved so swiftly that there was no way Shen Qiao could have dodged in his current condition, so when he felt strong fingers gripping his chin and forcing him in place while the mafia leader hovered close – terrifyingly close, breaths hot and vivid against Shen Qiao’s own lips – and the other arm trapping the injured man between himself and the wall, Shen Qiao froze, eyes wide open and the only thing he perceived was Yan Wushi’s eyes.

Dark brown, but almost glowing with the rusted red of blood.

“You’re exactly the type of people I’d like to see battered and broken.”

Shen Qiao swallowed, silently willing himself in his mind to keep calm, and when he was certain his voice wouldn’t shake, he asked while maintaining their shared gaze, “then why did you save me?”

A short pause as Yan Wushi regarded the composed expression on Shen Qiao’s face, and then he barked out a laugh, roughly letting go of the other man and stepping back.

“Don’t think too highly of me, Shen Qiao. I’m certainly no saint. You were in Sang Jingxing’s possession, and I just happen to hate that man and want to fuck with him. Besides, I enjoy having people owe me.”

From this distance, Shen Qiao couldn’t see Yan Wushi’s facial expression, but years of living with vision disability meant that he’d trained his ears to pick up on the smallest nuances in the rise and fall of a person’s voice. He could almost picture the man uttering the last phrase with a snide grin.

“Regardless, I’m grateful for what you’ve done,” Shen Qiao lowered his head in a nod of thanks, “if there’s anything I can do in return in the future, please let me know.”

“Anything?”

Shen Qiao could practically hear the smile in that purr.

“Anything within the legal and ethical realm,” Shen Qiao corrected calmly.

#qian qiu #thousand autumns #yanshen #yan wushi #shen qiao #bowie's crappy writing

28 notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

#alle answers #winteriron #fic recs #have a great day as well!#hold-our-destiny

132 notes · View notes

andmaybegayer · 2 years

Note

was going through the #knife tag on your blog and A: full knife "collection"/whatever you can get your hands on overview? B: what platforms do you use to buy knives in south africa? like, obviously BladeHQ and KnifeCenter are both US based and theyre kinda the major ones it seems but i also am not south african of course. C: were you specifically yearning for the tanto partially serrated UTX or was that just the image you used? and D: i'm aggrieved that you called the directional scratches from the finish on that knife the 'grain'

I'm answering these out of order so I can front load the shorter and more interesting stuff, so:

B: there's a good few decent local stores, Blade and Trigger is a knife/bow/airsoft/home defence type store that carries a broad array, and has a decent online storefront. SharpEdge is an all-online store with a smaller range but still pretty decent. DEFCON is another online store with a decent range but their website is a pain to use. Everything you'd expect to find, budget offerings from Gerber and Kershaw and CRKT as well as premium stuff from Benchmade and Spyderco.

A few custom knifemakers scattered around the country too, I think SharpEdge sells a few local custom jobs.

Unless you want something that just came out very recently or a special edition, you can get it pretty easily locally, and failing that, Amazon mostly ships here.

C: It was just the one I found on the storefront. I'm not opposed to serrations and they're real useful if you work with rope and cord a lot, since it'll cut even if the rest of your knife is going dull.

Veff Serrations in particular are interesting, I've used a Veff knife but never sharpened it and they seem to be a good balance of maintainability and utility.

D: I think I was talking about the handle, but perhaps not. I'm probably incorrect on that one.

A: Knife Collection

I don't know why I waited so long to answer this because the majority of the knives I've ever owned are not in my possession anymore. My current collection is pretty much just these:

From left to right:

Old-ass leatherman, beat up and dented stainless steel, poorly looked after by my dad, only moderately better looked after by me, doesn't see much use since it's basically just a less wieldy Swiss Army Knife because I almost always have pliers on me.

Generic as hell butterfly knife: I basically just use this to learn tricks. Nothing special, someday I'll get a nice one but this is an adequate tool. Occasionally useful if I need to handle stuff one handed, since they're very easy to open and close one handed.

Bestech Platypus: my daily driver, best knife I've ever bought, D2 steel and a G10 handle, nice sharp sheepsfoot blade that slices well and serves my needs. Requires a tiny amount of maintenance in the form of regular oiling because D2 is on the less side of stainless, but that's infrequent enough to never be an issue even for the likes of me.

CRKT CEO: pretty little executive knife, the kind of thing you'd pair with a suit or a fancy dress, what I used to carry when I was still going to the office. Nowadays it's occasionally used to eat apples and comes along if I think I might have to lend someone else a knife, such as going on hikes with friends.

I have had a couple other knives in my time, so in forward order:

Bear Grylls Scout: my first ever locking knife, a birthday gift for exactly what it says on the tin: Scouts. Good Balance of easy to look after and hard-wearing, I think it's 440 steel, serrations are helpful when you deal with rope a lot. Lost somewhere when I took a tumble down a hill.

CRKT Pazoda, the first knife I bought for myself, on a 2-for-1 deal at an outdoor place that was closing down, gave one to a friend for his birthday. He still uses that thing as far as I'm aware. Nice enough, 8cr13 is easy to maintain and I never had trouble with it, and this went everywhere with me for years. Lost in a move at some point.

Kaliber uh. I don't know the model name for this one and they don't sell it anymore. Kaliber is the house brand of Cape Union Mart, the local outdoor chain store. Bought because I was in need of a knife and didn't want to wait for delivery. Basic as hell, 8cr13, scratchy bearings, hard scales, but it's fine. Served me well for most of university until I was out ziplining and one of the people we were with fell through a broken plank on the platform. The tip broke off while it was being used to pry apart the planks so we could lift her out, which is as noble a way for a lump of rebranded steel to die as any.

Honorable Mention: medical scissors I got from the pharmacy. Great thing to have on hand, and because they're blunt I just toss them in my coat pocket.

#knife #ask #jbt7493

4 notes · View notes

kitkatopinions · 3 years

Note

The baby boy himself, Whitley!

(for the ask meme)

Whitley is so my baby, I love my child so much. I’m realizing I say ‘I’m really excited for this one’ for like every character I get for this ask game, but it’s because I’m having so much fun! These take a bit to write, but they are honestly so interesting to me, so as an fyi, if anyone does have any character they want to ask my about, but thinks they might be too late, or I might be uninterested, I’m still totally interested! It just might take me a bit to answer. :)

My top three ships for the character

Whitley/Oscar is my top ship for this in canon currently. It works best if Ozpin could somehow be separated from Oscar (which is theoretically possible I guess,) but yeah. Farm boy vs rich boy, they look cute together, their personalities could vibe, and they’re both snarky, but at heart caring and compassionate. Whitley/Mercury. I mentioned this in my Mercury ask, but I was writing a fic with @why-i-hate-rwby-now where Whitley and Mercury were thrown together and had to work together to escape their abusers, and I just kind of started shipping them while writing it. O.O Also Whitley/Penny is cute as heck and I could totally see her grounding him and also making him loosen up, while Penny thinks he’s funny and interesting.

My three least favorite ships for the character

Whitley/Blake. I don’t understand this ship, Blake just feels like more of an adult atm compared to Whitley - a literal child. (Yes, I realize I ship Whit with Merc, but A. I thought Merc was sixteen while I was writing that fanfiction and he acts kind of on the young side, while Blake has been acting ‘as an adult’ and being treated ‘as an adult’ for two seasons at least while directly talking to Whitley, and has always been more of a mature character for her age anyway.) But on top of that, Blake seems to treat Whitley like an in the way child and is kinda judgey to him, while Whitley barely seems to notice her. Whitley/Henry Marigold just feels bad. And Whitley/Yang. Again, Yang has been written as a nineteen year old demanding to be treated as an adult (though I wanna say she’s less mature than Blake) but also Yang is a hotheaded character and has been acting pushy lately, and that’s fine as a character flaw, but I feel like it just puts me off her for Whitley especially.

My biggest criticism for the character

He’s treated like he’s not a victim??? Like, his abuse and neglect and even his struggles are just... Not really gone into or acknowledged very much, Weiss acts like he has to prove himself before she can show him the slightest bit of sympathy or affection when she’s his big sister, his relationship with Jacques is glossed over and he isn’t given closure there, Willow’s neglect isn’t really acknowledged seriously, Winter seeming totally disinterested in him doesn’t feel like it even matters, Weiss is treated as blameless in her and Whitley’s problems. And the writing kind of frames Whitley as having gotten a redemption, when the worst things he did was be a bit of an asshole while in an abusive situation as like a fourteen-fifteen year old with no aura or glyphs or fighting ability. Emerald and Whitley’s volume 8 arcs should not be comparable! Emerald is a full on murderer and was still willingly working with Cinder to attack people as a nineteen year old woman, and yet she and Whitley are treated very similarly by the narrative (helping one person and then that ‘making up for’ their ‘past mistakes’ and then them just being on the good side and carrying the team’s actions until the pathways arrive and they both go to Vacuo. To be clear, I think this framing was too much for Whitley since he never even needed a redemption at all imo, and not enough for Emerald, the literal murderer of Penny who was just recently willingly helping Cinder try and murder Penny once again.) Whitley should’ve been treated as the child he is, he should’ve been treated as the victim he is.

My favorite thing about the character

His potential dynamics, but specifically with Weiss. He and Weiss both had almost the exact same upbringing, only Weiss actually had more support, but guys... The way the two of them coped had similarities, but were also very different. Weiss hid behind anger and sternness, Whitley hid behind peppiness and smiles. Weiss copied Winter, Whitley copied Jacques. Weiss was always afraid of people putting on acts around her, Whitley was constantly putting on acts as a means of survival. Each of them are plagued by jealousy, pettiness, judgmental behavior, and they both have good qualities that are similar, but they both are too prejudice against each other to see those good qualities and need to learn to understand where the other is coming from. Weiss is a fighter, but a follower, while Whitley seems to have a bit of a ‘fawn’ tendency, but plans and enacts schemes under the table (even if it doesn’t have to be, like with Nora! Whitley’s instincts were to just figure out how to help Nora and then go off and do it alone without telling any of the obviously antsy people with guns what he was doing - after he was spying on them lol.) I just love the possibilities that exist with two characters that are so similar, but so fundamentally different. Also I’d love to see him resentful of Winter and snarky and passive aggressive with her, and Winter not really getting the problem, and Weiss having to mediate between them. Idk, there are so many possibilities of amazing interactions and connections Whitley could have with the others, and he could be a really new, good viewpoint if he was allowed to flourish. And maybe became kind of a ‘guy in the chair’ more permanent part of the team. Like, I know we don’t need more character bloat, but let me dream!

A headcanon I have about them

Before Weiss lost her inheritance, Whitley was sort of tasked with learning everything but being head of the company, like he was learning the financial side of things, the technological side of things, ordering, inventory, scheduling, all about Dust and mine operations... And Whitley’s naturally academic and a fast learner, so he absorbed a lot of it. But yeah, I think Jacques was trying to train Whitley up to be a sort of always available PA of Weiss’s that could handle anything she didn’t want to do / was too busy to do, and that was something Whitley really resented too. His skillset was essentially being crafted around helping Weiss, but never learning how to actually manage the company itself and severely lacking in the social side of things, like he’d never be able to make a proper speech. Also, like pretty much everyone I think he plays piano and writes his own music compositions (which in my headcanons he subconsciously writes to include vocals only for him to then get bothered that even his music seems influenced by Weiss. XD) Also I know this is three headcanons, but if he had been trained to fight, he would’ve used duel pistols and would’ve eventually developed a ‘born out of trauma’ semblance.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

I’d just allow his status as a victim to be recognized and for him to have the sympathy I feel his character deserves. I’d have him and Weiss both framed as having contributed to their bad relationship, but Weiss - as the sister four to five years older than him - would be the one who makes the first moves towards repairing it, proving she has changed enough to put aside her pettiness and be there for the brother she does truly love. I’d also get Willow away from him, or at least let Whitley be angry and distant and not have their relationship fixed over the course of an in-universe day. This is why I say there should’ve been another Atlas season, which I think is what I’d do when it boils down to it. With every plot point coming fast and then being pushed on the back burner for the next plot point, there’s no time to focus on any of it or to give the character’s sufficient growth from it. So then things like Willow having her hand glued to Whitley’s shoulder feels very ingenuine, because their ‘growth’ was so rushed. So yeah, I’d really just add an extra season and let Weiss recognize that Whitley is also an abuse victim, make her be the one to start making steps to be there for him, and let things like his relationship with his mother come slower and not be an easy fix. Also I’d have Winter acknowledge that she has a brother more regularly and have her actually care about him, even if she hasn’t shown it well at all.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Whitley has no assigned character allusion and his name doesn’t offer very many hints, since it literally just means white meadow/field snow, but it’s easy enough to assume that like Weiss and Jacques - Snow White and Jack Frost - Whitley’s character allusion has something to do with the cold. I agree with the general opinion that he’s connected to ‘the Snow Queen,’ and is likely meant to be Kai, a once kind hearted boy who gets a piece of a magic mirror in his eye that only lets him see the bad in people and gets kidnapped by the snow queen. His best friend Gerda goes on a quest to save him - encountering a land of eternal summer and a talking crow amongst other things - and temporarily forgets him due to an enchantment, but then finds him almost frozen over and saves him by crying on him and through the power of her love that literally makes people and nature bend to her will, Gerda rescues Kai and dislodges the mirror piece from his eye so that he can be cheerful again. Pretty in tune with how the writers wrote things. I don’t mind this, but if Whitley is meant to be Kai and Weiss is meant to be his Gerda, there were two missed opportunities here that could’ve been great. One, Gerda is reminded of her love for Kai whenever she sees red roses, and Ruby and Whitley have a few similar mannerisms and kind of similar coping through their ‘cheery exterior’s’ even f Ruby’s lost all her sass and Whitley’s never had her spazzy, dorky, rough around the edges traits. I think it would’ve been cute and make for a more interesting dynamic if Weiss had mentioned to Ruby in volumes 1-3 that Ruby reminds her of her brother, and if it had made Weiss both harder on Ruby (since she and Whitley are estranged and he does drive her crazy a lot lol) but it also made Ruby all the more endearing to her and is one of the reasons they could be friends fairly fast despite Weiss’s early animosity (since she loves her brother and the traits he shares with Ruby compliment hers.) The next missed opportunity I can think of is that everyone thinks Kai is dead in the Snow Queen for a bit, but Gerda doesn’t believe it and goes looking for him instead. You could easily fit this into a narrative where everyone else has given up Whitley as a lost cause, but Weiss won’t believe that and is determined to help and to get close to Whitley again, which is what I think I’d want to go with. But also, a Whitley death fake out? That could be very good and very emotional. And it’d be easy omg. Weiss could think the Hound has killed him sometime during the fight (even if just for a moment,) but also if Whitley had been the first one to fall in the void instead of going through to Vacuo O.O

Idk if we’ll ever get his character allusion confirmed, but if it isn’t someone from the Snow Queen, I feel like the whole fandom will say “What?!” at the exact same time. XD

10 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

A little Distraction Part 7

This was prompted by the amazing AO3 user a fool! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Reverse AU [Read full on AO3] [Part2] [Part3] [Part4] [Part5] [Part6]

‚I’m off to work!‘, Nines called from the door and Gavin shut the dishwasher to join him in the hallway. ‘Be careful’, Gavin just said, as he always did. Richard smiled at him and nodded. ‘I’ll try my best.’ Visibly unable to refrain from it, he dove in for a kiss, hesitating just the tiniest moment to allow Gavin to duck away. It hadn’t been necessary for weeks now, but apparently old habits died hard. The android grinned into the short peck and half-heartedly pushed him towards the door. ‘Come on, Fowler will kill you if you are late once again.’ ‘And whose fault is that?’, Nines chuckled, but quickly left for the car. ‘See you in the evening!’ ‘I’ll be waiting for you!’

Gavin watched how Nines drove out of the garage and onto the street, waving him once again before driving off. A routine much like waking up, cuddling, eating breakfast and then waiting until Nines came back. As the car disappeared, Gavin stepped back inside and closed the door. Waiting until Nines came back. It wasn’t like Gavin was trapped in the house, he could have gone outside and investigated the city a bit. Maybe go to the riverfront and see Cyberlife tower being slowly reclaimed by Jericho. Or he could meet with other androids at the several centres set up just for that very reason. Or he could continue watching their current series. He knew when they continued with it in the evening, he would have someone far more interesting at his side, causing him to miss half of it anyways.

But somehow all of that felt dull compared to when Nines was there. All he could really do was wait. And he was growing sick of it now that he had accompanied to being safe and a person. Thinking about what he could possibly do today, he walked through the house. Surprisingly, it was at the table in the living room that his eyes were caught by something: A tablet. It was left behind with a half-emptied glass of water and Nines had likely forgotten to put it away. Curiously Gavin sat down and unlocked the small device. A police case was still open, and Gavin immediately tried to find a date somewhere. If this was something recent it was likely confidential and he shouldn’t know of it, right? But he couldn’t find any, so he assumed it had to be an old one if Nines left it easily accessible on their dinner table. If Gavin had to find something negative about Nines it would have been that he really seemed to love his rules, following them to the last word if needed. He wouldn’t let confidential data accessible to some random- Well, he wasn’t some random android anymore, was he? Maybe Nines trusted him enough already to be sure such information would be safe with him. He really shouldn’t look at the file.

But…

Gavin didn’t have anything else to do and he was extremely curious about what exactly Nines did at work. They spoke about it sometimes, but mostly to just blow off steam about co-workers or relax after a long day. Nines rarely talked about the details. And if anything, Gavin could keep it a secret if he needed to. And really it was Nines’ fault to leave it there. If he would be angry about it in the evening, Gavin decided to focus on that aspect.

He grabbed the tablet and stood up to throw himself on the sofa. This would be an interesting read. It was a case about a murdered husband. He was killed by poultry shears being stabbed into his heart in the bedroom, no DNA-traces or fingerprints except for the husband himself and his wife. The scissors themselves were noted as having no fingerprints at all. Suspects were the wife herself, and a few friends, none of them could be pinned down due to lack of evidence and interrogations brought up no new leads. Gavin was a little disappointed as that was about all he could get from the written reports. Apparently, this had been a dropped case. Maybe that’s why Richard had left it on the table. Maybe he was revisiting old cases.

Gavin sighed and put the tablet aside to unload the dishwasher but couldn’t help but think about it while taking out the plates, pans and silverware. Somehow his thoughts were stuck to the unsatisfying case left unsolved and went over the information again and again.

So much so, that once he was finished, he returned to the sofa and took the tablet once again. He interfaced with it, searching for more raw data in the file. He was surprised to find they actually saved the reconstructed imagery from the countless photos and had made the effort to convert it into a form androids could access in their zen garden. Gavin grinned as he waited for the data transfer. Even if it was an old cold case, playing detective a little was certainly more entertaining than watching old buddy cop shows on TV.

‘Gavin, I’m home!’, Richard called as he closed the door behind him and untied his shoes. He had expected Gavin to come to greet him, but as he had kicked them off his feet and stood up, he was still alone in the hallway. Frowning, he went to investigate. He found Gavin in the living room, laying on the sofa motionless except for a yellow LED circling slowly, sometimes speeding up a bit. Nines crouched down to gently shake the android a bit. ‘Gavin? Can you hear me? Are you alright?’

The GV opened his eyes and sat up in a purely robotic motion. Immediately Nines stepped back, knowing he had startled him out of stasis. ‘Gavin?’ The android looked at him and seemed to relax. ‘N-n-n-nines. Yoooou s-s-surprised me, that’s all.’ HE shook his head, frowned and stood up blinking irritated. ‘I-I-Is it evening already?’ Nines huffed in amusement. ‘Just came back from work. Are you sure you are alright?’ ‘Yes. Yes, I am. Just didn’t thought to get lost this much.’ Richard cocked his head inquisitive. ‘What had you so hooked?’, he asked, starting to walk over to the kitchen as Gavin took a step in that direction.

He was already starting to prepare dinner and the android just leaned against the counter seemingly still in thoughts. ‘You left behind your tablet, Nines’, he started. ‘I was curious, so I had a look at the open case. And before you get angry, it was your fault leaving it in the open!’ Richard laughed. ‘Hey, don’t worry. As far as I know you are not the one to kill that guy, right? It was the Jensen case, right?’ Gavin nodded. ‘Yeah, I checked it in the morning and couldn’t help but get into it. I didn’t have much else to do once you were gone. It’s probably not important, but I think I know who it was.’

Richard nearly dropped the pan he was holding, put it down on the counter and turned towards Gavin, staring at him very intently. To say Gavin was a little creeped out by that wouldn’t be an understatement. ‘Why do you think it wasn’t important?’, he asked. ‘I-I-I don’t know. Thought it was an oooold case?’ Nines nodded and leaned back, blowing air through his teeth. ‘Alright. Shoot. Who was it?’ ‘The wife’s sister.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked, apparently not expecting that answer. ‘Why?’

Gavin sighed and hopped on the counter. ‘Okay, so first you would think the wife, right? She wasn’t too bothered in the interview and let’s be honest, being killed in the bedroom it kinda is the cliché. But I looked at the reconstructed material and I found a different pair of poultry shears in the knife block. So unless she went to the lengths of specifically getting a new pair just to murder someone, I thought it unlikely she was the killer. I mean if it was some sort of personal argument it would have been a heat-of-the-moment decision. Unless the wife was somehow kept at his side by force and had time to plan, she would have taken whatever there was at hand.’ ‘And you are basing that on what?’, Richard asked, still listening intently. ‘Personal experience?’, Gavin shrugged. ‘I was the victim of domestic abuse if you so will, even if I didn’t care about it as a machine. Had there been a longer issue in the relationship one of them could have divorced. There were no children involved after all. Therefore I would have bet on a quick decision, not planned. So I sorted out the wife for now.’ ‘And why the sister?’

‘I went through the interviews’, Gavin answered. ‘The wife openly told you her husband was cheating on her with the neighbour. That’s why she wasn’t too bothered, the hate was still fresh as she learned it only a few days prior to the killing. I looked into who else could have killed him. The husband’s friends didn’t strike me as the type to kill him for whatever reason especially since they had grown rather distant over the years after moving away as most of them stated.’ He watched as Nines nodded and fidgeted with the pan. ‘That’s all I got from the file, too’, he sighed. ‘So why the sister?’ ‘She is family and has a good relationship with the wife. I guessed they would have talked about the fact that her husband cheated on her. And she had history with the police for beating up school-bullies and whoever looked at her sister wrong really.’ ‘How do you know that?’

Gavin grinned. ‘I might have asked Hank to see if a certain person had a criminal record. And I might have lied that the reason was that I was concerned because that person was around our house.’ ‘And Hank allowed that?’ ‘I c-c-can be veeeery co-co-convincing’, the android smiled and Richard laughed. ‘Fooling Hank? That’s a new one.’ ‘Well, it brought me the information I needed. Solved your cold case. Or at least found you more evidence for what it’s worth.’

Nines smirked and looked at Gavin with a proud expression the android couldn’t really place. ‘What?’, he asked finally as the silence went on for too long. ‘Well, Gavin, that wasn’t a cold case. I’m currently working on that and I was stuck in a dead end. I mean I knew she had a sister, but so far there wasn’t enough evidence to question her, besides that her sisters husband was murdered.’ ‘Wait, it wasn’t?’, Gavin asked in surprise.’ ‘Nope.’ He went to the fridge to get some butter for the pan. ‘And you figured that out just because you were bored? In one day?’ ‘I’m sitting here on my own until you come back from work’, Gavin nodded with a shrug. ‘No offense, I’m grateful to have a safe place to stay. But I am bored, and that case file was a welcome challenge.’

‘I mean, I could bring you some files home if you’d like. Not that it’s legal, but I could sneak something past surely.’ ‘You don’t have to’, Gavin immediately assured him. ‘But you clearly have talent for that kind of work. I could speak to Fowler and-‘ ‘That truly isn’t necessary, you don’t have to-‘ ‘You could work with me, I can try to convince Fowler.’

Gavin watched the overly excited human start cooking and think out loud. His first instinct was to decline, but the more the thought about it… he clearly wasn’t qualified to work as a detective but staying with Nines and helping him in the workplace didn’t sound too bad. And he would have something to do finally. A new purpose maybe. He had rounded up with his past life after being brought to his new one and getting accommodated to it. Wasn’t this the logical next step? Finding something for himself and really starting his new life? And what better was there than to start it with Richard?

‘Oh, I will ask him next morning if you could start as a police adviser or hell an intern if he wants to be an ass. I think that should work out perfectly.’ He turned around the first time to look at Gavin. ‘I mean if you want it that is.’ Gavin thought about it but the more he did the more he could see himself getting used to that thought. ‘I think I would like to try that.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #the next story will be up tomorrow I want to take my time with it and not rush it!

13 notes · View notes

meltalks · 4 years

Text

my experience with addy / hiqey

i’ve contemplated posting my history with addy/hiqey for awhile now. my friends have encouraged me to do so, but due to her stance in the rpc i was always far too scared to do so. with all that is coming to light with her recently, not only is a huge weight off my shoulders as far as comfortably roleplaying as my escape, but knowing i’m not alone. my story with addy dates back to about september 2018. i do warn you this will be long, and i’ll try to include enough details to make it make sense while not dragging things on and on. this includes both my personal relationship with addy, as well as my experience with her in groups one where she she was an admin, and groups where i was an admin. as well as i believe we coadmined one together. i’ve put screenshots where i could, but some of this dates back to 2018 and i just don’t have access to those texts/rp accounts anymore.

a huge huge shout out to @bumkeyz for starting this avalanche, and for also supporting me one on one along with all my friends to feel safe enough to come forward. i’ll put all of my story under a read more.

i’m going to start this by saying, my name is mel/melanie. you may have heard of me because back when addy was on rpslayed she wasn’t a big fan of me for awhile. predominantly my group the cape(?) the main isn’t up anymore so i can’t remember the exact @. i’m 21 years old, i will be 22 this month. i am married & i have a 3 year old daughter. this is information i don’t normally tell people i’m married / have a child, because well, i just feel a little judged. not because anything anyone has specifically done or said, but my own anxieties worried that people will think it’s weird to be married with a child and still in twitter rp. but it is important to my story with addy, which is why i’m letting everyone know right off the bat.

i met addy in a group called producers. this group is from september 2018, so i’m not able to access anything right now, but am digging. i played (feel free to clown me) a g-eazy character named pierce. addy played a carlson young who’s name i can’t quite recall, and a gracie abrams named lolly. lolly & pierce became friends first & at some point we exchanged phone numbers. lolly & pierce flirted a lot, pierce was a player yada yada. eventually she ended up getting a different ship on lolly & pushed her carlson young onto pierce. pierce had a different love interest & didn’t end up going for her. this should’ve been the first negative sign/red flag. when pierce didn’t get with her character, she got very short & snarky ic and ooc. i believe both of her characters blocked me ic. even though pierce had made no ic promises to either to not be with someone else. we still maintained some level of friendship, but she was extremely weird about when i mentioned my ship. our friendship ended for a few months because of an incident that started ic between me and another character. the mun who played this character and i had bonded ooc over having been pregnant, we talked somewhat often about her dealings with her pregnancy. so i felt close enough/friendly enough with this mun that when something happened with her character & another character ic i dm’ed her to see if she was ok .long story short it went bad. i texted addy and told her that. i explained that i felt as if this mun & i were close and it was like dm’ing a friend. she held onto the fact that i shouldn’t have messaged her. when i didn’t immediately conform to her thought she kicked me out of the group. i was literally devastated. i loved that group, that character, my ship; all of it. she blocked me. though this story is 2 paragraphs long, it’s minor in the grand scheme of things. after this she smeared me on rpslayed for months until our paths crossed again in a group called glitches/glitch? we decided to squash our beef. this was december 2019.

in december 2019 we became friends again. honestly, i wish we never crossed paths. we got very close right away. she started telling me about a bad friendship she had, with someone we mutually knew from producers who i will not name since it’s not my place to put their name in this, and gained my sympathy. so much so that i ended a friendship with that person based solely on accusations that addy had told me. this is something that i can now realize i did wrong. i literally cussed this person out on the phone, solely based off things addy told me. i didn’t listen to someone who had been my friend for months, who defended me and picked me up when addy was tearing me down on rpslayed. i turned my back because addy convinced me to. she made this person seem awful. and again, i’m not naming them, but they know exactly who they are. and when thy do read this, i’m sorry.

now this is where things get out of hand. addy & i begun an intimate relationship. this is very personal, and i know some may pass judgment. but my husband was cool with it. addy also began talking to my husband, they texted. we had a groupchat. not to get into details about the relationship, but it was romantic. i am going to try and organize my thoughts. into themes.

money

this relationship lasted from about january ish to april romantically. i became addy’s crutch. she began going through personal issues with her family. and i started sending her money. to be frank i don’t remember how it started. i helped her with a job search, supporting her through these tough things that were going on. the money started casually i suppose. it was $10 for lunch. $25 for nails. but then it got worse. i bought her a phone. and slowly she grew more entitled to my money. asking for it. demanding it. guilting me when i didn’t give it. i lied to her and told her i lost my credit card and turned it off, but the guilt i had i told her that i could turn it on when she needed it. in screenshots i will post below she guilted me because i was sick and fell asleep before turning my card on. whether what she’s saying occured is true or not, it was just one example of how she made me feel. at one point she had my credit card on her uber, and charged nearly $400 of ubers on my credit card that i didn’t know about. she claimed it was an accident, because i let her put my card on her account under the agreement that she would turn it off. we had an agreement of what she would pay me back, some things that i got her were gifts and i didn’t want/need back. other things it was always an agreement she would pay me back. however whenever i would mention sending me a payment she had an excuse. one time even guilting me by reminding me how much better i have it than she does. all in all i spent / sent upwards of $2500/$3000 on her. only about $1500/$1800 i wanted back. i never saw a dime back, she never made good on her promises. at some point i gave up on asking.

ETA: as far as the uber situation goes, she did apologize and state that it was never on purpose when i found out that there was nearly $500 in charges. she said she thought she was charging her moms card. this shows a photo of 1 page of a 5 page statement of all the transactions put on my card by her in one month. there are only 6 of these transactions that were me. all of the ubers and venmo were her. i didn’t make her take off my card, which in hindsight was obviously a very bad decision. i just didn’t want to leave her stranded without ways to get home/where she needed to be.

this is her demanding money. this was in the summer. at this point i was so manipulated by her/scared of her/scared of losing her that i didn’t know how to say no. in this instance i deflected with a picture of my child. screen shot.

in the screenshots here, this is where i fell asleep. i was on vacation and got extremely dehydrated in the sun. i literally felt so sick and she made me feel guilty for falling asleep. X X X

this screenshot shows one of the times i actually asked her when she would repay me. at this point my credit card was nearly maxed out from ubers and sending her money. i was anxious about it and she made me feel bad for asking because her situation was worse than mine. this was the same day she asked me for $250 for a down payment on her car. X asking for money. X making me feel bad for asking when she’s gonna pay.

literally to this day im still in credit card debt because of this. yes i make good money, yes my husband does too. but credit card debt is hard and everyone knows it. i do fine for myself, but i don’t have hundreds extra to pay this down.

also, i cannot locate the bank screenshot. but as recent as this february, six months since she spoke to me, she still had my card on her uber and usted it again. i can’t find the screenshot of the actual of the bank transaction because i’ve completely had to close that account for fraud and transfer my balance to a new card. but here is a screenshot from february 12 where i tell my friends i caught her doing it. X .

manipulation in groups/related to groups

orbis. i ran a group called orbis, it was a reality show group. addy was one of my friends who really wanted me to open it. all of my groups i’ve adminned i’m the lead. i just always take on that roll so i do get very busy with them on top of my real life. i work full time and i’m a mom so i spread myself thin.she made me feel really guilty for this, saying i wasn’t giving her enough time, she wasn’t anyones dog. so i posted my unfollow. then she told me i was stupid for doing that. so i deleted my unfollow. then she said that me deleting my unfollow showed that i didn’t really care how she felt. screens. X X

lumeer. very similar situation to above. only this time i left the group completely for about 3 weeks. i called my coadmin crying about what she was doing to me, sent her the psds and templates for grpahics and left fully, though i helped them out if issues arose/they needed anything.

impulse. this was recently and this got brought to the tags. im going to copy & paste what i sent to bumkeyz as far as the story goes for what happened.

“ what happened in impulse is only one of several examples of addy being awful in groups i've adminned. this goes back to our friendship but specifically here's what happened in impulse. addy played a character named briar, the other characters involved were as mentioned in other posts loki & khalil (fai fc). one of he first days of the group khalil hooked up with both loki & briar. when the "updates" account posted about loki & khalil's hook up (we posted any and all plot drops that were sent in, it was a reality show so we consistently updated what the cameras caught), briar got upset on main. addy then messaged khalil's mun ooc and asked for the plot to be erased. essentially because she didn't like that khalil had hooked up with both her and another girl in the same day/same manor. as odd of a request as i was the khalil mun agreed to wipe it & asked that if there was anything that ever came up again that made addy uncomfortable to please not hesitate to dm. addy then softblocked khalil. which is strange. why soft block with briar's reason to dislike khalil has been wiped? that night addy posted on her personal tumblr hiqey "i forgot all fai khadra fcs are weirdos" or soemthing along that line. the khalil mun reasonably got uncomfortable with that, but was softblocked & didn't tell the main. they just ignored it since their characters weren't interacting now. for the next few days addy continued to shade khalil and loki on main, despite any ic reason for disliking them being wiped. loki then approached briar IN CHARACTER asking what was wrong/why she was shading/why they didn't like her. i don't know all the details of that conversation, but i know it ended with loki saying she was going to block briar & briar saying that was fine. bear in mind the admins had no idea any of this was happening at this point. addy then dmed the main, playing victim. after more shading of khalil, khalil's mun decided to block briar as well. addy despite wiping this plot and having 0 ic communication with khalil continued to shade the characters ic. so addy dmed the main playing innocent. asking for us to have them unblock, saying she had no idea why they blocked or what she did. as admins we had no idea why either, figured it was something ic so we dmed both muns. khalil's mun agreed after some hestiation, and asked if they had to follow her and i said no. they didn't elaborate. loki's mun however refused, & i'm glad she did because she told us what was going on. of course once we were told everyting we didn't make her unblock. up until we told addy that we were not going to make those muns unblock her, she was extremely sweet to us. she praised us on her rpt. said she loved the group. fed the main compliments. but when she didn't get her way out of us, and was essentially told on, she started causing issues on the timeline with different characters. she sent us a dm on the main telling us to "learn how to handle your group melanie" and deactivated before i could get a chance to reply. “

what i didn’t tell bumkeyz is that deejay/rpslayed played khalil. another example of addy’s manipulation is that when she saw deejay getting anons she followed deejay and texted her after several months of no communication, starting to tell her side of the story and play innocent -- not knowing that deejay was the person who was behind khalil the entire time. she made khalil out to be the bad guy, not knowing that it was deejay. after finding out deejay and i were friends, when deejay posted on rpslayed for people to follow me shortly after trying to get deejay on her side, addy blocked us both (again).

manipulation between friends (?)

i don’t really know a great way to title this, but this is similar to the situation i mentioned with the unnamed person above -- how addy made me think that person was the worst so i would stop being friends with them. this is a few more examples of that.

the entire time i was friends with addy, she told me that deejay hated me. she told me that deejay was convinced that i was this person who tried to get her kicked out of a group. she told me that she did her very best to convince deejay that it wasn’t true, but no matter what she did deejay just hated me. nearly a year later deejay and i cross paths in a group. we started talking ooc and i mentioned this. i asked her why she thought that was me. we found out that basically, while addy was telling me she was trying to convince deejay it wasn’t me, she was telling deejay that it was me. she would also tell me personal information about deejay that i had no business knowing, whether it be real life information or just telling me the groups deejay adminned when she knew deejay didn’t want anyone knowing.

i have found out recently that addy has recently been telling people a lie about when she came to visit me. on one evening when she visited me in june of 2019, we went to my friend’s house. we both drank, and smoked. i am someone who neither drinks nor smokes, and i got a very bad mix from it. my anxiety sky rocketed. i was crying on my friends couch practically paralyzed. i didn’t want to move. i felt sick. i felt scared. my friends were going to drive us back to my house and shortly before we were about to walk out addy said she needed to go to the hospital. my friend’s boyfriend drove her there, and when he came back they took me home. this night is very blurry for me. i remember barely being able to see straight, my friend helped me walk to and from the car. addy has told her friends that i refused to pick her up from the hospital that night, and i’ve now heard this from two of her close friends. when in reality, i was so far gone that not only was i sick and scared, but i couldn’t see straight. i had absolutely no ability to be behind a wheel. i’m not surprised she twisted this against me.

i provided a few people screenshots where addy was telling me to block them/trying to convince me that they were awful and hurting me. at the same time that addy was telling me this, she was doing the opposite to them -- to keep us apart. i believe this is some sort of power. always wanting to be everyones number one.

i don’t have a lot of screenshots for this, so i won’t go into much detail, but i can say on more than one occasion, or more than five or ten she told me who to and not to be friends with. told me to block people who had been our friends who were no longer friends with her.

flat out manipulation.

i don’t want to go back through my texts too much honestly. it’s still a sore spot. it still sucks and it still hurts. but i think anyone and everyone involved with addy at some point or another has similar stories about the way she treats her friends. there were points where i begged. begged and begged her not to leave me. i can’t even count how many times she blocked and unblocked me. how many times she made me feel the worst and then came back. she came back because she knw i was there. and that my generosity was practically endless. i couldn’t say no to her, frankly i can’t say no to anyone. if anyone dmed me today and said hey i need $15 for a ride home. i’d probably send it. that’s just how i am. addy completely had me wrapped around her finger. to the point that i left friends who were good to me. i left my own groups i worked hard on. i nearly ended my engagement (which cannot be entirely blamed on her, but the relationship she and i had was built off lots of manipulation). i know that i could go find 100 screenshots and texts of her manipulating me but honest i just don’t want to do that to myself again. she has made me out to be the villain to anyone she can. i have had 2 different people tell me that she told them i say the n word, which is the furthest thing from the truth. i fear the things she’s said about me to people. if she can 100% make something up, what can she twist from actual arguments or issues we had?

i know this sounds like a lot of rambling for nothing. but for nearly two years i’ve lived in fear in the rpc of addy. less so when we were friends. i’ve feared telling my side because i felt invalid. frankly even as i type this im scared. scared she’s already convinced everyone i’m awful and no one will read this or care. i just am thankful that this finally came to light. i am glad that i won’t feel scared anymore. roleplay is my one place to be free. as a mother, a full time worker, i don’t have a lot of time for hobby’s and frankly i don’t have a lot of them. i don’t draw, or read. i like to write. and i’m just thankful this can finally be lifted off me.

#twitter rp #rpt #rpc #rph #addy tw #hiqey

115 notes · View notes

writingithink · 3 years

Text

If the Doctor Dances Rated: T Word Count: 4402 Summary: After Canary Wharf, the Doctor has a lot of regrets. Notes: This is a fic for @sunniebelle ‘s prompt at @doctorroseprompts. The prompt has tons of spoilers so I'm just leaving it as a link :P. sunnibelle, I hope you like the fic! All of the gratitude to @hey-there-juliet for being the best beta ever! All mistakes are mine, as per usual.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link] -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631036

The moment the TARDIS had safely entered the Vortex, the Doctor wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to refuse Donna’s offer of Christmas dinner. It would have hurt, spending the holiday without Rose, trying to keep up the facade that everything was okay, that he was fine . Then again, he wasn’t sure that it would have hurt more than this.

Alone on his ship, the TARDIS’ hum was the only thing keeping the silence from becoming truly oppressive. Even so, he felt like he was being bombarded with her absence.

The Doctor glanced down at the controls. At any given moment he usually had countless ideas for where to go next, an unending list of places and times and historical figures it would be interesting to see. He still did.

It was just …

What was the point?

What was the point, if he couldn’t show it all to her ? Experience it with her? View the wonders of the Universe through Rose Tyler’s eyes, their hands clasped together as they ran through time and space?

None of it felt like it mattered anymore.

Over nine hundred years, and he had lost so much, been through so much. He didn’t know how he was possibly expected to get through this.

His anguished cry echoed through the room as he pushed himself violently away from the console and forced himself to march down the corridor before he did something that he would likely regret later - like destroy the last TARDIS in existence. Right now he wouldn’t put it past him. He couldn’t trust himself.

The Doctor paused outside of the galley. Maybe a nice cuppa would help him begin to sort through the pain that was threatening to rip him into pieces. He opened the door, took a step inside, and then froze.

Rose’s favorite mug sat on the counter next to a plate of half eaten toast. Three open jars of jam were near it - they had been taste testing.

Throat tight, he turned around, fleeing the room.

Without too much thought, mind forcing him to relive memories of Rose bringing him cups of tea while he worked on repairs, the Doctor entered the library. Before he could collapse onto the sofa, his eyes locked on her favorite throw balled up near the armrest. On the coffee table sat a complete collection of Shakespeare’s work. They had been reading Much Ado About Nothing - she enjoyed the plays more when he read them aloud, said that the strange words made more sense that way.

With each breath he took it felt as though shards of glass were piercing his lungs.

He ran out, not paying attention to where his feet were taking him, vision blurred with tears that he foolishly tried to hold in. Was there nowhere on the ship that didn’t ring out with her absence? The Doctor blindly opened a door, eyes closed as he gave in.

I love you, she’d told him.

He would never see her again.

It had been his last chance to say it. His last chance, and he’d run out of time. Now she would never know that he loved her, too.

The Doctor dropped to the floor, legs messily criss crossing as he covered his tear streaked face. He didn’t want to know where he’d ended up, certain that wherever it was would only echo sharply with it’s lack of Rose Tyler. It certainly smelled like her, and that was bad enough.

I love you, she’d told him, and why couldn’t he have just said it back?!

Then at least she would have known. Because he’d known how she felt even without the words - Rose had shown him constantly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

Sure, more recently he’d begun to try, but his attempts were laughable. Any chance to really show her, and he would deflect, make a poorly timed joke, or run away. Always running.

They should have had more time.

He’d been so afraid of the mere decades she’d had left to live, certain that they would ‘only’ have years together before Rose would be too old to want to run around the Universe with him - that even though she’d promised him her forever, she would need more than he was able to offer her.

Now the Doctor wished that he’d given in to every human-y impulse he’d had, because holding back obviously hadn’t lessened the pain of losing her. They could have had so much more.

With a sharp breath, he opened his eyes only to immediately scrunch them closed, hands curling into fists, nails painfully digging into his palms.

Her room.

He was in her room.

His insides felt hollow as he stood, fully intending to run out, but instead found himself clumsily crawling onto Rose’s bed, wrapping himself in her duvet, and burrowing his face into her pillow. If nowhere on his ship was safe, then why shouldn’t he stay here?

Gripping the blanket tighter, the Doctor couldn’t help but let out a few choked sobs as he rolled to the side and took in the mess she’d left.

He’d never get to tease her again about making so much clutter.

They should have had more time.

Not just more time, even. He should have used the time they’d already had better , instead of being scared of what it would do to him when this day came.

His eyes landed on a dress strewn haphazardly over the chair in front of her vanity. She’d worn it out the last time they’d landed on a peaceful planet for an evening. Had actually convinced him to go back to the TARDIS to change when they’d happened upon a restaurant with dancing. Rose had, of course, asked him to dance that night.

She always did, despite the fact that he refused her every time.

He’d thought it would be too hard to pretend they were nothing more than the best of friends, that he didn’t want anything more than that, if he were to hold her close like that.

So he always refused her, and she always let him. He had spent that evening leaning against the bar, pretending not to be scowling everytime she looked his way as she’d danced the night away, a line of pretty boys always seeming to be vying for her attention. He used to slip away, telling her there was maintenance to be done on the ship (usually there wasn’t).

It had been awhile since he’d been able to do that. To leave her. The Doctor had been certain that soon he would break - they would dance together, and she would just know. It hadn’t stopped him from trying to hold out for as long as he could.

He should have never tried to begin with.

They had danced together once … but only once.

It was - and would likely always be - one of his favourite memories. Everyone had lived, and he had danced. And spinning around the console room with Rose Tyler in his arms, he had finally admitted to himself that his hearts were no longer his own.

But it hadn’t changed the fact that she was human, and he was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords.

And as he sat in the console room that night after Rose and Harkness had gone to sleep, he had been terrified . Certain that if he gave in, it would break him.

So; no more dancing.

No giving in.

Yet here he was - broken.

It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. He loved her, and just because she didn’t know hadn’t stopped her from consuming him.

They should have had so much more time.

His brain was a broken record, stuck on the thought. How many changes he would make if he’d known how short their ‘forever’ would be.

The Doctor hadn’t thought he’d be able to stop crying now that he’d started, but his next sob cut off with a gasp.

He was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords. So what was stopping him from changing it?

Sure, he couldn’t actually go back and do it all over again - it didn’t work like that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make one teeny tiny paradox, now did it?

His ship screeched in his head as he raced into the console room, lights flashing in distress. The Doctor ignored her, inputting coordinates. She was just kicking up a fuss - there was no harm in planting a teeny tiny suggestion into his past self.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he said aloud, voice rough.

He was a Time Lord - he knew what he was doing, and he had perfect recall - knew the first time Rose Tyler had asked him to dance after the Blitz, and knew just when he would be able to get himself alone.

Harkness had suggested it and he’d, of course, refused. Unfortunately, Rose had managed to flutter her eyes and he’d ended up caving. So here they were, at the Moulin Rouge of all places.

The Doctor crossed his arms, doing his level best at projecting an air of unapproachability. It wasn’t as effective as usual, with how intoxicated most of the patrons already were. Jack had already gotten himself a bottle of absinthe, and he was just thankful that Rose had refused to join him, content to drink only non-hallucinogenic alcohol. On that end, she was currently walking towards him with what appeared to be a glass of champagne.

“So, are any famous people here?” she asked as she sidled up to him and took a small sip of her drink.

He made a show of looking around, and while he did think he recognized a few patrons, the Doctor couldn’t be sure and also was aware that Rose was unlikely to know their names.

“Naah,” he said. “It’s early days, May of 1890. They only got their first review a month ago, and it won’t be until the fall that the Prince of Wales visits. By next year, Toulouse-Lautrec will release his first poster. Got us in before the crowds, me.”

“And before that show Jack wanted to see. I’m pretty sure I recall him specifically requesting 1893,” Rose smirked. “Mentioned something about Cleopatra and naked ladies. Think he knows the date?”

The Doctor shrugged, looking around again to locate their companion. It wasn’t hard to find him, and while they hadn’t even hit the half hour mark yet, it seemed as though his drinks were kicking in.

“I don’t know,” he told her, “but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care if you told him.”

She followed his gaze, giggling as they caught Harkness lean towards an attractive French bloke and nearly trip over his own feet.

“Think this is the start of another one of his stories where he ends up starkers somewhere?” Rose asked before quickly finishing her drink and sitting the glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

“Fancy making a bet?” he laughed.

“Mmm no. I think we both know how it’s going to end. Now c’mon, let’s dance,” she grinned, taking his hand.

The Doctor frowned, looking down at their clasped fingers. The music was fun and bouncy, and Rose looked beautiful, as always. But …

“No,” he forced himself to say, “think I’ll pass. You go on, though. Have fun.”

His smile felt wrong on his face, like baring teeth. He doubted he was fooling her.

“Why not?” she asked, frowning.

He wished she wouldn’t frown. That just made it harder.

“You know me, not much for dancing. Best save it for a special occasion,” the Doctor lied, because he couldn’t tell her the truth: that he was afraid to ever dance with her again. Afraid of what would happen if he continued to let his guard down.

Rose didn’t look like she believed him, but shrugged her shoulders anyway, letting him off the hook.

“Suit yourself,” she said, before walking up to the dance floor.

It was mere moments before one of the pretty boys that she seemed to draw in like a moth to a flame walked up to her, and then they were dancing. And of course she would choose him, why wouldn’t she? It’s not like she’d needed him to dance with her. She’d just been being nice. The Doctor was sure that Rose was much happier with her current dance partner than she would have been with him.

Scowling, he turned away from the dance floor and tried to relocate Jack.

It took a little longer this time, but he eventually found him sitting at a booth in between two dancers, seemingly telling them a story. The Doctor rolled his eyes, and seeing as he didn’t fancy getting dragged into a can-can once all of that started, and he hadn’t wanted to go to the cabaret to begin with, he quietly left the building. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten separated, and everyone knew to meet at the TARDIS - though he hated to think of how long he’d end up waiting on Harkness.

It was a warm night, summer quickly approaching, and he strolled leisurely in the direction of his ship. No matter what he tried to think of to distract himself, he couldn’t manage to get the grimace off his face. Really, Rose Tyler made it awfully difficult for him to ignore how he felt about her. Lines of potential suitors seemed to follow her around, none of them good enough for her in the slightest.

Not that he was. He would be the worst for her of all of them.

The Doctor turned a corner and then slowed - someone was leaning against the building right in front of the alley where he’d parked the TARDIS. Probably harmless, but best to act inconspicuous.

“Beautiful night,” the bloke commented as the Doctor walked past.

“Yup,” he agreed with a noncommittal shrug.

“You’re wasting it,” the man snarled before he could turn the corner.

“Excuse me?” The Doctor paused and turned, looking him up and down. Their eyes met and he realized exactly who he was speaking to. “What are you doing here?!”

The future him didn’t deign to respond, instead turning his head to stare in the direction the Doctor had just come from.

“C’mon, then! There must be a reason you’re risking a paradox. Get on with it!”

“I’m sorry,” the future him - another bloody pretty boy out to ruin his night, of course - sighed before refocusing. He hadn’t seen such a melancholy look on his face since the first time he’d looked in the mirror after-

After.

“It’s fine, just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sorry,” the other him repeated, scuffing his trainers against the wall before standing up straighter.

“Yeah, I got that, b- wait. Are you trying to tell me that you traveled back in your personal timeline to apologize?! For what?!!”

“I don’t know. It’s … complicated.”

His eyes were black holes, but … they really didn’t seem to carry the years any more than his own did.

“Complicated. Right. Just how far into my future are you?” the Doctor asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” his future claimed, shaking his head of ridiculous hair.

“We both know I’m going to have to forget this, so if you could stop trying to act all mysterious, that’d be great, ta,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“You know what, fine ,” the pretty boy wearing plimsolls with a suit snarled. “Not long. Maybe about, ohhh, two, two and a half years? Turns out we’re quite jeopardy friendly ourselves. Happy? Good.”

His future self spun around and began walking away, toward the cabaret.

For a moment, the Doctor stood there, stunned. While the other him hadn’t said when it was that he regenerated, it was a very small window. This body should last him hundreds of years! Really, he’d barely used it.

Thankfully, he snapped out of it and quickly caught up with the next Doctor, who was walking stiffly, hands shoved into the pocket of the coat Janis Joplin had given them. It was the only part of his ensemble that the Doctor didn’t necessarily hate.

“Just where is it you think you’re going?” he asked, letting his tone communicate the implied accusation.

There was something … dangerous … about this version of himself. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. At least, not yet.

“Earth, Paris, 1890 - I’m taking in the sights. Get a croissant, catch a show, maybe even check out the Eiffel Tower. It’s brand new, you know. The possibilities are endless.”

“You’re heading toward the Moulin Rouge, I’m not an idiot - though I don’t look forward to becoming one. All looks and no brains, the Universe is going to fall to pieces. What’s going on? Is Rose in danger?”

His future self stumbled, an audible gasp escaping before he corrected himself.

A sinking feeling washed over the Doctor as he asked his next question.

“Where is Rose? Your Rose.”

This time the other him stopped completely. They were both silent for far too long as the Doctor waited for his answer.

“I lost her,” he finally choked out. “She’s trapped in a parallel world. We- we can never see her again.”

The pretty boy in pinstripes offered no resistance when the Doctor immediately gave into the urge to punch the tosser he was about to regenerate into right in the face.

“You lost her ?!” he found himself shouting. “ How?!”

The future him covered his cheek, an unsettling look of determination in his eyes replacing the former hopelessness. He didn’t answer the question.

“I have so many regrets,” he said instead. “We wasted so much time.” His future self looked around him as if really seeing his surroundings for the first time, a manic gleam in his otherwise dead eyes. The Doctor took an involuntary step backwards, a natural reaction to seeing a Time Lord that seemed to have gone insane. “We’re in France?!”

“Yeah, France. That is where the most famous Paris on Earth is, and the original Moulin Rouge,” the Doctor said slowly, if not more than a bit cockily.

“But Rose hates France. Ah, wait. No. Will hate France. My bad. My fault, actually, if we’re being honest. So many regrets,” the other him groaned, ruffling his hair before whirling back around and picking up the pace as he continued toward the cabaret.

The Doctor clenched his fists. He had a general idea of what his future self had in mind, of what he was capable of if there was no one around to stop him. If there was no Rose Tyler.

“You can’t take her,” he all but shouted, grabbing the next him’s arm in an attempt to stop him only to get shaken off. His whole being tingled in a bad way as the temporal disturbance worsened.

“I’m not going to take her. She isn’t even going to know that I’m me. You. Eh, you know what I mean,” the pretty boy said with an absent wave of his hand as the Moulin Rouge came into view.

The Doctor was running out of time.

“So what exactly are you doing, then?”

“I’m going to dance with her,” he stated, matter-of-fact.

“You’re going to put the entire Universe at risk for dancing ?!” the Doctor exclaimed. Of all the stupid, ridiculous, idiotic things!

The other him simply shrugged, and the Doctor could tell that he really didn’t care. None of it mattered to this broken version of himself, shattered in a way that he didn’t believe he’d ever been, even right after he’d ended the Time War.

“Alright, tell me this,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “All pretty as you are, were you and Rose- ?”

“No,” the future him breathed. “You know us. Cowards, every time. I just wish-”

The Doctor didn’t find out how that sentence would have ended, as he’d finally found the stun gun he’d confiscated from Harkness the day before, and now the other Doctor was a crumpled heap of pinstripes on the dirty cobblestones.

“I’d say I was sorry, but I’m really not,” he grunted as he struggled to get his future self into a fireman’s carry. “More trouble than you’re worth.”

It didn’t take him terribly long to find the future version of his ship, where he left the next him leaning against the door after carefully entering his own mind and forcing him into a regenerative coma in the hopes that when he came to he’d be sane.

Finally, after all of that, the Doctor reached his TARDIS. Exhausted, and quite ready to forget that he’d ever run into a future him, he slid his key into the lock, and … nothing.

He pushed at the door. Nothing.

He pulled on the door. Nothing.

“What are you playing at?” he scowled at his ship.

In response, he received a hum that managed to be both smug and irritated. The Doctor jiggled the key, trying to get it to turn - it didn’t. He scanned her with his sonic screwdriver - all of the readings were normal.

“He’s fine ,” he assured the TARDIS, taking a guess about what had her so upset and rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe not fine . Off his rocker, but I don’t know what more you expect me to do about it. I’ve maintained the timeline, that’s all I can do.”

Another frustrated hum, and then a vision of him and Rose dancing together.

“What, you think I should have let him?!”

The hand he had still pressed against the door was zapped, and the Doctor quickly removed it as the vision played again, this time with a focus on him . This him.

“You want me to dance with her? Why ?!” he asked, boldly trying the door again. “Of all the- if I wasn’t going to before, I certainly can’t now. I’ve got future knowledge that says I never-”

His eyes slid shut and the Doctor slumped against the TARDIS as she helped him initiate a memory lock. A minute later he jolted back up, furiously pushing at the door of his time ship.

“Of all the meddling-”

Zap!

“Since when do you care if I-”

Zap!

“Bloody hell! Fine! One dance. And it’s not going to be the can-can!”

The Doctor walked back to the Moulin Rouge, muttering unflattering things about his interfering ship the whole way. When he re-entered the cabaret, Jack was nowhere to be seen - not surprising. He quickly spotted Rose, still on the dance floor, smiling at a different pretty boy.

He frowned and crossed his arms, wishing for once that the alcohol on Earth affected him the way it did humans. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it. One dance, just to make the TARDIS happy (and what was that even about, anyway?) and then he’d leave again. The Doctor dropped his arms, straightened his shoulders, and marched into the fray.

“Oi! Mind if I cut in?” he asked once he reached Rose and her overly friendly dance partner, though ‘ask’ was a strong word - he pushed the bloke to the side and took Rose’s hands before either of them had time to respond. “Didn’t think so. Go on then,” he told the man, gesturing with his head toward the bar before managing to spin himself and Rose away.

“Hey!” she complained, “What the hell was that about?! I thought you didn’t even want to dance?”

“Changed me mind,” was all the Doctor said in response, as he didn’t really have an answer for her first question.

Well, he did. It just wasn’t something he wanted to admit to.

For a moment he was absolutely positive that Rose was about to start shouting at him, but then she sighed, cast her eyes skyward, and then … smiled.

“Fine. Not that I want you makin’ a habit of this, but alright. Let’s dance.”

The Doctor came out of his healing coma slowly, disoriented as his brain sluggishly came back online. He panicked for a moment, not knowing where he was or how he got there, calming only when he realized that he was leaning against the TARDIS.

Streets seemed Earth-like. European, late 19th century.

Paris. He was in Paris.

Why was he in Paris?

The last time he was in late 19th century, Paris was-

His eyes widened and his respiratory bypass kicked in as the Doctor as it all came back to him. He remembered, and was horrified .

How could he have done that?! Why had the TARDIS let him?!

Well, maybe because it had already happened. Circular paradox. Thank Rassilon his past self had been able to stop him.

The Doctor still couldn’t remember what exactly had been going through his mind when he’d decided to cross his own timeline. All he knew was that it had something to do with Rose.

He braced himself for the crushing pain that filled him everytime he thought of her … but it didn’t come. Before he could properly wonder why that was, new memories began to unlock in his mind, running parallel to his original memories. To his original timeline.

While he’d thought he’d been disoriented before, it was nothing compared to this. Still, he slowly rose from where he’d remained leaning against his ship, only stumbling once as a wave of vertigo hit him.

What was true? What was reality now that he’d managed to alter it, despite knowing for a fact that his past self had repressed the memory? Was the Universe even safe? Or was time about to unravel around him?

The TARDIS hummed soothingly as he slowly pushed open the door.

“Doctor?”

His respiratory bypass system kicked in, and for a moment he stared at the grating, afraid to look up.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you all over. Where’d we land?”

It was the voice of a ghost. But not. The Doctor closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

“Nowhere,” he answered, finally raising his head. “Got the date wrong. Have to try again.”

Rose Tyler looked stunning, dressed in a denim jacket, a floral dress, tights and some boots. She always looked stunning, no matter what she was wearing. And now he was going to make sure he told her. That he always told her.

“Alright then,” she laughed. Such a brilliant laugh. “And where are we supposed to be going?”

“How do you feel about dancing?”

#doctorroseprompts #sunniebelle #ficandchips #ten x rose #tenrose #timepetals #dw fanfiction #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: if the doctor dances #my fic

29 notes · View notes