#‘men suffer in silence’ ok then why am i always hearing about it

[tiredyke]

people talk about traumatized/victimized men like they have a deeper understanding of trauma than women could ever achieve, like they’re just more introspective or capable of emotional depth. they give them the benefit of the doubt and room to talk and grieve that is never afforded to victimized women like have you guys even spoken to a woman and thought “this is an entire human person with complex thought” or are they all just stock characters to you

[shirophantomvox]

How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

���I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

[wheredafandomat]

Fear & Desire❤️‍🔥P34❤️‍🔥 The liberated

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky was in a vicious cycle of pacing around his room, doing push ups, sitting in silence, looking through pictures of y/n and wishing he could have just stayed in Wakanda where everything was quiet, tranquil, where he didn’t have to pretend to be something he wasn’t, he could just be. He didn’t want to become and Avenger, he didn’t want to get into a relationship, but between Steve practically begging and the bright spark with the divine personality and gorgeous face that was y/n, he didn’t stand a chance.

He kept replaying y/n’s words and her actions. He didn’t just regret what he did to her, he hated himself for it. He swore he wouldn’t leave his room until someone told him y/n was definitely gone. He wasn’t scared of what she’d do to him, he just couldn’t bare to see her look at him like that, so much hatred in her eyes. So much pain.

Bucky was on the floor doing sit ups when he got the message. Opening his phone, he saw a picture of y/n bloodied, beaten and strapped to a bed along with instructions and an address. Bucky was told to come alone or else he wouldn’t see y/n ever again. Gasping, Bucky jumped to his feet and grabbed a coat as he headed out to location in the text. Luckily pretty much everyone was gone between Thor and Loki being in Asgard and most of the others being on a mission so no one could see the panic and fear that were apparent in Bucky’s features. If they had, they would have gone with him and that could have resulted in something catastrophic for y/n. No. He had to go alone. He jumped on his motorbike and headed for the address. For y/n.

“The liberator?” You wheezed tasting blood.

“Yes y/n, I am your liberator. You’ve lived in a state of not knowing for so many years, I’ll be the one to end your suffering” he said stroking your hair.

“You said I was leaving, you’re going to kill me?” You stated turning your head away from his touch.

“No, I’m going to enlighten you y/n”

In Asgard, Loki was heaving as he rummaged through the chest of draws after seeing a picture of y/n’s dad. He soon realised that these were—

“No, they can’t be” he gasped.

They were the missing files from y/n’s dads case.

Ransacking the files, his eyes skimmed over the words.Super soldier programme, SHIELD, files about aliens, Thor, the—

“No” he uttered covering his mouth.

The tesseract.

Kicking the door down, Bucky was attacked by around 8 other men, all of which he managed to takedown. The thought of y/n being physically injured right now was what spurred him on. Running down the corridor, he followed the whimpering until he finally got to the door y/n was behind.

“Come y/n, I’ve got something I want to show you” the man said pressing a button that raised the upper half of the bed so that you were facing a screen.

“What is this?” You choked.

“I bet you’ve always wondered who it was that killed your father, well, the answer lies a little closer to home than you’d think.” He snarled pressing play on the screen.

Your heart leapt out of your chest seeing you kiss your dad on the cheek for the last time.

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Sweetheart, go home”

Hearing your voice, tears began to escape you. You sounded so innocent, so ok, so fine. You didn’t realise that years of heartache and pain would have aged your voice. When you watched your dad hug you, you felt it. You regretted when you pulled away and left.

“WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS?!” You screamed at the man who was looking between the screen and at you clearly amused.

“Wait, shh, you’ll ruin the best part.” He replied.

“THOR! WE HAVE TO GET BACK TO MIDGARD!” Loki bellowed bursting into Thor’s room who was back in the palace after being gone for a while.

“Brother, I’m sure y/n wont mind you being here for another day, surely she doesn’t miss you that much” he teased.

“NOW!” Loki demanded.

“Loki, what’s going on?” Thor asked more seriously standing up and walking towards Loki.

“I—it—we” be stuttered.

You watched in horror as your dad sat back down continuing his work before someone walked in. They were not in the frame yet, but you instantly recognised the voice.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted rushing to her “YOU GET AWAY FROM HER!” He yelled punching the man in the face.

Bucky tried to untie the restraints but saw that y/n wasn’t even acknowledging his presence. She wasn’t ignoring him because she was angry at him and he realised this when he followed her gaze. She was in a state of shock and terror.

Arriving back on Midgard, Loki began sprinting to y/n’s room. He didn’t know what he would say. He had imagined the day he’d be able to tell y/n what happened to her dad, finally grant her some answers but now he had them, he didn’t know how or when or if he would tell her. He couldn’t.

“Get out” you heard your dad say to the person who just walked in.

“We had an agreement” the familiar voice roared.

“And it’s off”

“NO!”

You instantly threw up when the man walked into the camera shot. You knew it was his voice but to actually see him. No. This was too much.

“I don’t have what you want, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you,

Loki”

A/N: Omg 😆 I hope this chapter wasn’t confusing it was like jumping POVs the whole way through 😂

Tags:

@andrizzybvbyyyy

@frostay

@lokiswildheartcantbebroken

@newtomofgods

@virtualstrawberrydinosaur

@purplekitten30

@geeky-politics-46

@eyesbluelikethetitanic

[m3kuroshirt]

Gay Thoughts; Head Full

A short GrimmIchi coffee-shop au based on prompt number 11: bookmark, from the September Prompt list by @creativepromptsforwriting

Word count: 1427

Warnings: mild language

He’d seen him a hundred times, and every time was different; the orange-haired man with brown eyes as warm as the embers of a dying fire. He had a gentle look to him, hair cut short and a tiredness in his gaze that only came from experiences better left unsaid. Grimmjow would know; he’d seen that same tiredness in his own eyes. But that was before. He was in a better place now.

Despite seeing the man so often (he came to the little coffee shop every Tuesday to read), Grimmjow couldn’t help but stare at him each time, sneaking glances in between filling orders. The man always ordered the same thing; a cup of Earl Grey and a chocolate muffin. Everyone behind the counter was aware of his infatuation at this point, and they all seemed to conveniently ‘disappear’ when the orange-haired customer was due to arrive, leaving Grimmjow to be the one to serve him. As a result, he’d memorized the man’s order quickly, and would start to make it without even thinking the minute he came up to the counter. The first time it happened, the man had been surprised. But then, then… then he gave the sweetest smile. It was like watching the sun rise or a flower bloom; slow, gentle, beautiful. Grimmjow almost dropped dead then and there. But he held it together. Barely.

Seeing the man come in so often, Grimmjow knew a handful of constants. The man always looked a little worn and tired, as if he’d had a really long day and needed to rest. Why he would choose a coffee shop to read in for that purpose baffled Grimmjow. The place was a mess of noisy, whiny customers, overly-pretentious teens, grumpy middle-aged women, men telling jokes much too loudly, and elderly couples shouting at each other across the table as their hearing was so bad they could barely hear themselves let alone the other person.

The next thing Grimmjow noticed was his outfits. The man always wore some sort of neutral-coloured long-sleeved t-shirt with a pair of jeans. He looked down-right cozy. With his book, sitting at the table, cup of tea in front of him, he was the picture-perfect poster-boy for cafés everywhere.

The third thing Grimmjow noticed was actually an inconsistent consistency. The man always had a book with him. But it was never the same one two weeks in a row. Various titles and covers passed before Grimmjow’s eyes, some he could read, others clearly in a different language. Some bright and vibrant, others darker. Some clearly brand new, some clearly well-used.

The final thing Grimmjow noted about the handsome customer was the bookmark. Regardless the book, it was always the same one. It was thick, clearly made of leather and painted a vibrant red. Detailing on the bookmark was painted in gold. The edges of the bookmark were worn, clearly it was not new, and it was definitely well-used. The man would hold it as he read, twiddling it with his fingers when he concentrated, tapping it against the table when he was at a particularly interesting part, eyes wide and focused. Sometimes, when he looked as though he was reading a really though-provoking chapter, he would brush it against his lips absentmindedly. Grimmjow’s eyes always followed the bookmark when he did this, and always lingered on his lips. Most days, they looked soft, gentle, kissable. Sometimes they were chapped, and once swollen, as if he’d been…kissed…Grimmjow couldn’t describe the weird feeling that had settled in his chest that day. He’d been relieved the man hadn’t come in looking like that again.

Grimmjow didn’t realize he’d been zoned out until a voice called to him. “Um, excuse me?” it was a pleasant voice, deep and rich, with a gentle politeness.

“Hmm?” Grimmjow blinked and focused back on reality. Only to find the orange-haired stranger standing right in front of him. The stranger looked…worried.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Grimmjow blinked again.

“Uhh,” he uttered so intelligently.

The stranger’s cheeks went pink. Grimmjow found that was a rather nice colour on him. “I just…well, initially I came over because I thought you were staring at me…but then you didn’t move at all and I got worried,” he admitted, eyes fixed firmly on the countertop. “I thought maybe you were unwell.”

Grimmjow didn’t have a filter in the best of times. And now was not the best of times. “I was.”

The stranger looked up sharply. “You’re unwell?” Concern tainted his tone and Grimmjow winced. He couldn’t think, so caught up in assuaging the worries of the man before him.

“No. I was staring at you.” Ah. Yes. Good job me. He won’t think that’s fucking weird at all.

The stranger narrowed his eyes. “Staring at me. Why?” he asked abruptly. Ok, maybe it’s not abrupt of him if I was the one to say I was staring in the first place, Grimmjow amended inwardly. The intensity of the stranger’s discerning stare wasn’t something he was used to having directed at him. His eyes weren’t warm now, but sharp, calculating, shining with a brightness that should have scared Grimmjow, but instead thrilled him.

Realizing the stranger was waiting for an answer, and that he had once again been caught staring, Grimmjow did what he did best in these situations. And that was to be the worst at communication and tact. “Because you’re really handsome.”

There was a pause after the words left his mouth.

“What?”

“What?” Grimmjow couldn’t help but echo the man’s own question. The stranger in front of him met his gaze with wide eyes, cheeks turning redder by the second. And Grimmjow could feel his own face on fire. “Uh. Have to go. Break time. Bye.” And he turned around and strode as quickly as possible to the staff room.

Grimmjow slammed the door to the staff room shut behind him, startling Nel and Ulquiorra. Nel opened her mouth, but Grimmjow cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t. Do not. Ok? I am a fucking idiot. Let me mope.” He sat at the table and put his head in his hands. “Fuuuuuck. I’m so stupid.” An awkward silence descended on the table. He heard the rustle of pages as Ulquiorra returned to his book. Somehow, reading was less attractive when his gloomy co-worker did it. He could hear Nel fidget, could sense her knee bouncing up and down, as it often did when she was trying not to speak but really wanted to. He did his best to ignore her.

The door burst open again, but Grimmjow didn’t look up. “Grimmjow.” He recognized that low melodic voice, smooth and sweet.

“Go away, Hallibel,” he muttered.

“Get up, it’s not your break time yet,” she replied. Grimmjow found himself bristling. She may be his manager, but he was so not in the mood to be bossed around.

“Can’t you just leave me alone and let me suffer?” he muttered, dragging himself up from the table with a glare. Hallibel rolled her eyes. She held out a white napkin to him.

“Here, take this and put it away before you go back out,” she ordered. Grimmjow glared at the napkin.

“I don’t want your trash.”

Hallibel sighed in exasperation and grabbed his hand. She shoved the napkin in it. “Just look at it.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but he did look at it. The napkin had writing on it. A set of numbers. Specifically, a set of numbers that look suspiciously like a phone number. With a name underneath. Ichigo. He frowned. “This is…”

“Mr. Book-nerd gave it to me. Said to tell you he ‘thinks the same about you’. Then he rushed out the door like the place was on fire,” Hallibel explained briefly. Grimmjow’s eyes widened. He looked up at Hallibel. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Nel perk up and Ulquiorra doing a not-so-good job at pretending to read. He ignored them.

“He said…he really said that?”

“Yeah.” Hallibel folded her arms. “Now, put that somewhere safe and get back out there. It’s not your break time yet.” Grimmjow grinned.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted as he turned to stuff the phone number in his bag.

“Language,” Hallibel reprimanded him.

“Aw, leave me alone Hal, this is the best day ever! Let me live a little,” Grimmjow replied with a smug grin as he brushed past her to leave the staff room. Hallibel sighed and fondly shook her head as she watched him exit the room.

[comicbooksidecharacter]

Hiraeth [Part 32]

Bucky Barnes X OC (Amelia Stone)

Hiraeth: (n.) “longing or deep yearning for a place, time, feeling or person long gone; or that never was.”

Summary: Bucky finds the OC working on a case she was specifically told to stay away from. He can’t help but stay close to her.

She couldn't really tell him. She felt like it would end everything. She could just look at his feet, contemplating the situation she was in. Bucky took this time to notice her condition. Even the dim light couldn't hide that she was thinner, maybe paler, than before. His eyes inevitably fell on her chest, as if he could actually see through her shirt at the wound. The shirt on that side looked a bit raised, maybe she had bandages or support on. Her reluctance to use her right arm told him as much.

"I just want to solve this mission", she replied, "That's all." "Why?" "Because I am sure this is connected to the shooting", she replied. "I was so close to finishing the mission but then .. " Bucky let her hand go and stepped back to take a good look at her. "I'm not convinced." She could only look at his face; his features looked stern, his eyes dark. "Missions get switched from agent to agent every other day, this is a normal thing. I don't see why you would need to run away like this." "How did you find me?", she inquired, still unwilling to share her thoughts. "I was in the gym with you", he said, "I was trying to find the answers. Had to go through 40 gyms, got nothing. Then I decided to go underground, and luckily, here I am. I was convinced that you would not let your case rest. I thought I was going to miss you again, but right after I went in, I felt a surge in EMP... I was sure it was you." She looked at his metal arm. It was covered but his wrist could peek through the sleeve and the glove hem. "So you can feel it?" she asked monotonously. "Your power is not really focused on objects as it should be, I am sure others objects suffer some fluctuations too. But it's definitely better than the last time you stopped the bullets." She sighed and averted her gaze, walking towards the reminiscent of a kitchen counter. "So, what do you want, Bucky?" "Don't try to distract me from my question", he said with utmost calmness. He could read her body language, she was trying to feign normality, but her body was stiff. She could read his body language, he was certain, assertive, just like he always was when things were under his control. "Why did you run away?" There was silence for a few moments and then he spoke again in  softer voice. "Amy", he replied, "We were all worried about you, you were shot. How could you run away like this? We wanted you to heal.." "I think healing is out of the question now", she replied in a mocking tone, dropping her shoulders, "If you or the others think that I can go back to normal, and continue life like it was before, that is wrong. I am not the same person, Bucky. I have changed. I have vivid nightmares of what happened to me. I can't think straight. I can't sleep because the pain gets so bad at night. The only thing I had, that gave me some sense of purpose, was my job; being able to decipher codes and unravel mysteries, being able to take down evil simply with the power of human intelligence... all that was taken from me because of this. " "I have to live like this now", she announced. "I want to solve my case, and get my job done... this is my only chance to prove I'm worth being an Avenger." Bucky got a bit annoyed and made his way over to the counter. "YOU are the one who told me that I should not identify myself on the basis of the bad that happened to me or the things I did. Right back at you, Amy. You have not lost your abilities; you are still smart, and kind, and .... amazing. You don't need work, people, or circumstances to define who you really are on the inside." She lowered her head in doubt; now she could understand how Bucky felt when she said those things to him... such words were hard to trust, even if everything in the world said they were. Suddenly she heard a sharp sound; the sound of a silenced bullet, too close to her ear. She heard someone collapse a few inches away. Bucky had shot someone, then again, then once more. She couldn't do anything but cover her head out of sheer surprise, he was quick to move away and stand right in front of her as a shield. The noise subsided with the sound of the last body crashing on the floor. "We have to get out of here", she announced what he already knew, rushing to the bag that lay in the corner of the kitchen. Shoving the file inside, she followed Bucky to the door, stopping only when she saw a familiar figure lying on the wooden ground. The man with the 1960 tattoo. "Damn it!", she announced, studying his face over and over again as if it would bring him back to life. "What did you do?", she asked, "You killed him." "Killed who?" She pointed to the man on the floor. "I didn't shoot him", he stated, confused. He was certain that this man had not appeared in front of him. "He was..." "We have to get out of here", he interrupted, as the sound of boots grew louder/ Bucky was anything but weak. He took no time to push her inside the room, forcing the door shut despite her protests. She could hear the grunts and groans of the unfortunate men who had provoked him. With mechanical precision, swift movement and unconstrained brunt, he was rendering men unconscious, even breaking bones. The loud thuds of collapsing bodies was testament that the predator, the Winter Soldier, was still embedded in his fight system. She had tried to form a force field, but she didn't know how effective it had been, given that she couldn't focus. Her anxiety had surged and she was expecting the worst. She wanted to protect Bucky from the guns. After a few minutes, there was no more noise, just silence, and a lingering smell of gunpowder. The door unlocked.

She only took one step forward and put his arm around him. Bucky felt her body shudder a little as her right arm unraveled from her side and settled around his torso. For the first time ever, she felt the coldness of his metal arm, lightly settle on her body, touching her waist. He was stiff as a board, but didn't resist her embrace. For a moment, she wanted all her pain to vanish away with the warmth of his body. He could feel her desperation and pain, consumed by worry over her arm.         "It's ok", he said, "I'm here".

In a sense it was so grotesque; bodies lying around as she held on to him. She extracted all sense of warmth and comfort from the embrace, reveling in the firmness of his body against hers, the sense of pain losing potency from this support. "We need to leave", he said, "they know where you are."

She was quick to follow Bucky, stealing one last glance at the dead Russian. No word was said as the escaped the building, ran through the alleys, left darkened by her abilities. The night was cold, or maybe it felt colder because the adrenaline had run out and the body needed to cool down. It was only 15 minutes later, when they entered a cemetery, that he motioned to stop. After catching his breath, he asked "Who was that guy?"

She tried to level her breathing. Her forehead felt colder to her because the anxiety also made her sweat profusely. If she were being honest, she didn't know how long she could keep up the "put-together" act before just letting it all go and telling Buck everything about the case. She wouldn’t give it up, of course, but at least she wouldn’t have to keep up a façade either.  There was no veil she could put before him, his eyes were struck with worry as he traced her body in the moonlight. He remained speechless. He knew why she was quiet; the girl who always eluded his understanding seemed to be like an open book to him.

  "Amy... you can trust me", he replied, "I won't tell anyone. But you have to be safe."

She looked at his face and tried to drink in the pain she felt. "You'll just tell everyone where I am. They'll get to this point in the case. I know, I sound stupid Bucky, but I really want to do this on my own, like I was doing before." "Amy, there is not a single case in our work that doesn't need anyone's help at SOME point. We use spies, whistle blowers, messengers, technology, friends... all of them. I want to know what you know. I won't jeopardize your mission, I promise. I can't leave you alone like this either."

She was honestly surprised. A few months ago, this man would have walked away at the first sign of exclusion. He would have left without any further questions. He never bothered anyone with his presence and didn't get offended if he was ignored. But this man was behaving a little differently. This man was trying to reach out to her, offer some help. Perhaps it was because he shared the same predicament with her.

  "Trust me, please", he began. For one moment, she stopped herself, she didn't know why. The thought that he had once been a trained assassin for HYDRA rose it's head. What if he turns? What if this was all pretend? But she chastised herself and nodded. "The man who got killed, he was supposed to meet me some time later. I don't know when or where, but he had important information. I haven't even looked at the file before all this happened." She pulled out the file from her bag and illuminated it's contents, while Bucky surveyed every side to see if they were alone. "I KNEW IT!", she held the file firmly. "He IS alive..." Bucky's face expressed confusion. She shook her head and assembled her bag again. "We need to be out of here first." .-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.     

Taglist: https://my-favorite-fics-and-imagines.tumblr.com

[stardancerluv]

Punishments

Part 2

Summary: you realize each other’s worth.

Note: this is very smutty with some fluff. Daddy!Dom!Roman, Oral male recieiving, semi-public finger.

Walking over to Roman, a little later nervousness fluttered in your stomach. You were honestly a jumble.

As you did you eyed his profile. You couldn’t read his emotions, as you walked up. Your eyes meet, Roman reached over and pushed the button.

It chimed with its arrival you felt your stomach do a flip. Once inside, you practically flung yourself at Roman. “Roman, I am so sorry.” You cried.

He tilted his head to one side as he looked down at you. Then without a word, he picked you up, his silence already spoke more then what the two of you had said to each other earlier. You didn’t fight him.

The elevator dinged and he walked out with you. “What am I going to do with you?”

You remembered how he had grabbed you earlier and despite the edge lingering in his voice, you were instantly breathless. “Whatever you want daddy.” You had gone too far tonight, your emotions had run away with you.

“We’ll start here.” He said more to himself, as he lowered you to the floor. You slid down till you were standing in front of him. “Now, you need to know something.”

You kept your eyes downcast.

He roughly grabbed your chin and made you look up. “You look at me when I talk to you.”

“Ok, daddy.” You barely whispered, his annoyance washed over you in waves.

“These past few weeks I told you, I took over an entirely new area. It came with new responsibilities, new men answering to me.” He pressed his lips together. “I wanted to feel them out before brought my precious girl in front of them. Remember, how I was worried about Killer Croc?”

You nodded.

“I want to hear you.”

“Yes, I remember daddy.”

“What if I brought you to my first meetings with him and he had lost control? What if he had ripped you to shreds?”

“You had only wanted to keep me safe, daddy.”

“Correct. These men have been known to not have the best character. I didn’t want one of them to get any ideas about you.”

“Oh daddy.” Unease filled you, what mew faction had come to Gotham, wasn’t there enough, you wondered a moment.

“That’s right.” He nodded. “You belong to me, I take care of you.”

“You do. I don’t know what got into me. I was just so upset.” You cried. “Please daddy, know that I care. I hate it when things go wrong and you end up at the docks.” You had to finally say it.

His face softened and he caressed your cheek, yet his gloved hand slid down and he grabbed your throat. You gasped and he smiled.

“I believe you baby,” He said slowly as he gently squeezed. “But you were very mouthy. You need to be reminded of who takes care of you.” His thumb caressed the side of your throat. “Who works to make sure no one destroys you or your dreams.”

You nodded. “You do daddy.”

He took your hand then, your heart lurched. Your arousal, had slowly been building since he had grabbed your throat. An ache erupted between your legs when you felt just how hard he felt in his slacks. “Do you feel this?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“This is why I can’t always have you at my side baby. You make daddy very hard.” As he pressed your hand against him more firmly you made a soft sound. “Now daddy wants you to get on your knees baby.”

You pleaded with your eyes, the two of you were not far from the elevator. He chuckled and his fingers tightened on your throat. “Are you defying daddy right now?”

Your eyes grew, his fingers tighten more. You gasped for air now. “No.” you managed to gasp.

“Good Baby, you better not be. I have been very soft on you considering how you spoke to me earlier. The words I heard leave your mouth.”

Still looking at him, you lowered yourself in front of him. “I was very bratty daddy. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Yes, daddy.” You felt yourself get wetter.

You watched then as he finally undid his belt, followed by his pants. He stood before you in all of his glory, very hard and erect. You could not suppress the soft sound that came from deep within you as you saw him. You squeezed your thighs. You wanted so badly to reach down and ever so gently relieve the ache he brought between your legs.

His gloved hand took ahold of himself. “Now open for daddy, he’s going to show you a better way to use your mouth.”

You did as you were told, and you trembled as feeling him slid in. Holding you just the right way, he began moving in and out of your mouth.

“Mm, beautiful.” He murmured as he caught your eye.

You moaned around him, he tasted so damn good. He held your head, so he could easily enjoy you. Soon, not taking a completely submissive role, you happily sucked at him.

As you knelt there you felt yourself become unbelievably wet, making you moan around his hard length. Just as you were getting used to the feel of him, he pulled out of your mouth.

A soft sound came from you but you would not allow yourself to pout.

“Did you wear panties under those stockings? ”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.” He demanded first firmly, gesturing to them. “And then sit back for daddy.” He came over you to then, as he kneeled before, he looked you over. “Tonight, you don’t deserve me to take you in a bed or even a chair.” He gently pushed you onto your back, a smirk curling his lips.

“I was very bad.” You looked up at him, as he came to hang over you. You felt as he pushed the dress further up, the coolness of the marble felt actually refreshing.

He reached out and grabbed your center. You moaned under his touch. “Oh baby,” he growled. “You are so wet.”

You nodded.

“You like it when I remind you who you belong to, don’t you?” He rasped, right as you felt him slip two fingers in.

You moaned and arched into him. “Yes.”

“Do you deserve to have me in you?” He leaned in close, you could feel his breath. His lips grazing yours as he spoke, making. you grow hungry for his kisses. “Or should I just let you finish sucking on me to get me off?” He smirked, as he slid his fingers in and out of you.

“Please daddy, please? I want to feel you.” You pleaded.

Smiling, he withdrew his fingers. Moving, just so, you then felt as he entered you. “Daddy.” You moaned, arching against him once again.

You wrapped yourself around him as he began moving in and out of you. He finally let himself moan, pulling you close. “I like how you look under me baby.”

“Daddy.” You trembled.

“Don’t you cum baby, I decide when you cum tonight.”

You shook, “Ok, daddy.”

*****

“Open wide for daddy.” You could taste the tanginess of the two of you combined. He held you close, you felt as he trembled. “Baby.” He moaned, and moments later he came hard into your mouth, easily you swallowed all of him. You took delight in glancing up at him, seeing how he threw his head back in his his pleasure.

Sighing, he tidied himself up. Reaching, for you he pulled you up and held you close. “Are you mine baby?” He traced your jaw with one of his gloved fingers.

You nodded. “I am yours daddy. I am still so sorry about earlier. I was just so upset.”

He cupped your cheek. “I understand baby. We all get upset. Now, you know what I want you to do?”

“No.” You shook your head. You still ached for him., you could taste it.

“Go freshen up for daddy and come back downstairs. I want you to sit beside me like the good girl, I know you to be.”

You beamed. “I would like that very much.” After being intimate and not having your emotions bottled up any more you felt better. You meant it, you looked forward to being on his arm.

“And baby?” He met your eyes.

“Yes?”

“You better touch not yourself once I get in the elevator.”

You allowed yourself to squirm so he could see how you ached to feel him but you nodded. “I promise will only allow myself cum when you let me.”

“Good girl.”

******

Finally, settling at his table downstairs he looked out at it all. Sipping his martini, he finally had a time to think.

“Roman...” Zsaz, walked up. “We should..”

Roman, gritted his teeth. “Not right now Zsasz.” He cut the white haired man off. “Keep mingling. I know I have to call Platano he can fucking wait.”

Zsasz, scratched the back of his head and nodded. “Sure thing boss.” The man then walked away.

His anger had mostly cooled, so he could finally think back at what had just happened. It had boiled in the pit of his stomach, rushing in his ears. Before you, the idea of having attachments, rankled him. The women he met usually annoyed the fuck out of him. None of them really challenged or even interested him. He had met his fair share, owning this club and they threw themselves at him, especially the fucking dancers.

Here you were strong and incredibly beautiful. You were the only one who had not backed away from him, you were fierce. You never sugar coated things. You finally let him know just how hurt you were. So he was more then happy then cancel that stupid fucking meeting. Platano, could fucking wait.

Since you had always been there for him, suffering through those hours with your friends was worth it for you. Tonight, once again you made him realize just how lucky to have you by his side while he rose to power in Gotham. He fucking loved you for it. He smiled, sipping his martini delighted knowing you cared for him in exactly the way he needed.

*****

You hurried to gather up your clothes and hurried back to the bedroom. For the time being, you pushed them into the hamper. Opening the door to your closet you found a new dress; equal in its beauty. You laid it out on the bed before and went to the bathroom. As you ran your brush through your hair, you couldn’t help but notice how puffy your lips were. They reminded you of the sharp desire you still felt for him. Quickly, you brushed and rinsed your mouth out.

You slipped on your new dress, once again you grabbed one of your favorite perfumes and spritzed some on and then made your way to the elevator.

The club was still hoping and the drinks were still flowing. It was so easy to be wrapped up in the world you and Roman made for yourselves upstairs.

Moving through the crowd you gave polite smiles and nods. But your real smile came when, Roman seeing you stood up and smiled at you.

“After you.” He ushered you into the booth.

A waitress appeared shortly afterward with a drink for you.

“Would either of you like anything else?”

“No.” Roman shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “We’re good.”

Turning, you could feel as his eyes moved over you. “You chose a nice dress baby.”

You beamed. “Thank you.”

He laid a bare hand on your naked thigh. “I see you skipped the stockings.” He gently squeezed.

You swallowed. “Yes, I wanted to hurry down to you.”

“Good, very good. Now open for me.” He purred.

You glanced a little, then you did as he said. As you felt his hand slide all the way up but stopping just shy of your center. You made a soft sound, you ached for him. You pleaded with your eyes as he looked up into his his deep blue ones. You bit down onto you lip.

“Were you a good girl and only freshen up?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” He was the one who made a deep sound then when he felt you had also decided to forgo a pair of panties. His blue eyes became fiery. “Baby.” He breathed.

You opened your legs a little more. “It just the two of sitting here.” You suggested sweetly.

He slipped and rubbed his fingers against your wetness. You squirmed, meeting his eyes. “Daddy.” You pleaded.

“You wonderfully just pointed out we’re all alone at my table, with a club full guests.” He nuzzled and kissed the nap of your throat. “Do you think anyone will noticed me making you cum?” He rubbed more. One of your hands clutched his thigh the other the cushion.

“Daddy.” You breathlessly whimpered.

“Yes, baby.” He rasped in your ear. “That’s it, hold onto to me.

You whimpered softly. “Cum for daddy at his table.”

You strained and opened yourself just a little more.

A dark chuckled came from him. “Yes, that’s it. Cum, where he decides on the good and the bad. Cum for me baby.” He urged.

You buried you face into his shoulder. It didn’t take long. Panting against his throat you shook and came hard. Your eyes met, yours watery as he kissed you. His hand moved to hold you, you squeeze you there. “You’re mine baby. I’ll care for you always.” He whispered against your lips. Pulling, back he gingerly, with no disgust wiped his hands with his handkerchief. You watched as he slipped his glove back on.

“I love you, Roman.” You whispered. He glanced down and smiled.

“Always.”

Shaking you straightened yourself and took a sip of your drink.

“Friday can start now, I’m here.” A loud screechy voice called out.

Standing, Roman turned on a heel to it. He pressed his lips together. “I can never relax.” He looked down at you as he said it and smirked.

“Romy!” She hollered from across the club. “I’m joining you and your girl.”

“Great.” He called as the fake smile spread from one side of his face to the next. You shared a look.

“I am going to need another drink.” You remarked.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj

[magma-cjay]

Lingering Fragments (cw: death, angst, implied suicide)

(foreword: ok MagmaCjay, you asked for it, don't say you weren't warned)

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They were all dead. Every single one of them.

With great effort Risotto staggered toward the headquarters, limping painfully, his right leg dragging, and barely attached to his body by Metallica's power alone. Torn nearly off and barely hanging on by a few strands of muscle and tendon, and the ability of his Stand.

He had barely escaped his encounter with the unassuming young boy. A boy whom he knew had ties to the Boss. Who had mistreated him and his team for far too long. Who he was a fool to have underestimated. But he was lucky to escape with his life. Especially when Bucciarati's team intervened.

If one can consider me lucky, by any definition, Risotto thought.

His whole team was gone. He was the last man standing. The rest of his men, his family, slaughtered like swine by Bucciarati's team, and for what? Hadn't they sought to betray the boss as well? Hadn't they sought the same goal? Weren't they two teams on enemy sides, yet united with a common enemy?

It was all so damn unfair.

It wasn't long until Risotto neared the Hitman Squad hideout, a small, shabby and unassuming apartment that lay secluded in the Italian suburbs. A place where he and his crew dealt their shady deals to survive and hid from the wrath of the Boss. A place that was what many would call the dark, ominous underground of Italy's streets, but was a shelter for his men and himself.

A place that was the closest thing he could call a home.

Barging into the door, blood pouring from his numerous wounds, Risotto stumbled painfully into the living room with a cry of anguish. A cry that echoed through the empty halls of the hideout and gradually warbled away into silence. A painful, deafening silence that hurt Risotto far more than Aerosmith's bullets ever could.

He collapsed heavily onto the kitchen table, breathing heavily and wincing in pain. His dark inky eyes darted down onto the table, which was empty, save for a newspaper, and a plate of long-stale crackers, which were beginning to attract ants from their time left unattended.

Risotto's heart sank like lead as the gravity of what those meant struck him harder than any blow from the Boss's stand. The newspaper was spread out at a crossword puzzle, the date: April 1st, 2001. Risotto wished this was all a fool's day trick, but the silence was all too real. All too agonizing to endure.

The crossword puzzle was half-finished, with angry scribbles and incorrect answers that Risotto recalled too well. Of the angry hollers of Ghiaccio, as he struggled to comprehend words, while Formaggio mocked him playfully for his incompetence while snacking on the table.

Now the remnants of Formaggio's last meal lay untouched, as if silently awaiting their consumer. But there was none. Once wise-cracking, prank-pulling, now just a charred, cold corpse on a street somewhere. Would he at least be laid to rest by whoever found his body? thought Risotto. Or would he be left to rot, be picked away by rats and roaches like garbage? Like the garbage he had always been treated as, by the world, by society, by the very gang they had found themselves trapped in?

The unfinished crossword puzzle also brought Risotto little comfort. He had always loathed Ghiaccio's rambling, his angry ranting at the most trivial of things. But now Risotto ached for that irate voice. He would have given anything to hear that voice one last time. Not that Ghiaccio's throat, pierced right through the spine and out his windpipe, drowned slowly in his own blood by Giovanna and his gunman, would ever make another sound again.

Risotto glared at the crossword puzzle, and the one word that Ghiaccio had managed to fill. "An eight letter word synonymous with forever." 

Eternity.

Eternity. How painfully appropriate. Gone for eternity, never to be seen or heard from again. Forever. Just like the only family he ever had, with this one word, inked out in a sanguine red on the faded parchment, as if an ominous tiding of death.

The sight of these leftovers were too much for Risotto to bear, and despite the agony he heaved himself off the kitchen chair, stumbling to the living room and throwing himself onto the couch. His blood stained the faded, torn cushions, as he pressed his face into a pillow and muffled a scream. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a waft of a familiar scent. Prosciutto's cologne. His favorite pefume that he wore before...that mission. Risotto felt a lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, the house was filled with little remains of everyday things, which like nails further hammered in the loss in his already wounded heart and soul. Scents. Sights. Sounds, or the lack thereof.

His knee accidentally pressed something hard on the sofa and with a static whirr the television came on. It was a dramatic soap opera currently on air. Melone and Illuso's favorite television show, featuring soppy tales of love and romance which they dutifully watched day after day, despite mocking jabs from Formaggio and Ghiaccio about their tastes in genre.

And now they will never know how the show ends. The last he had heard of Melone was a report from Ghiaccio claiming to have heard him scream on the phone and lose contact. And Illuso...was gone. Not just dead, but gone: vanished without a trace, melted into thin air, with not even a hair or piece of clothing to remind the world that he ever was.

Would anyone remember them? Would anybody even care?

They were just criminals to the world, weren't they? The scum of the earth, filthy, cold-blooded killers. They were the monsters of society, and to anyone else? They'd say they deserved to die.

But to Risotto, they were family. His family. His brothers in a way, who were all dragged in this horrid life by the cruel twists of fate. He'd wished to have escaped from the trappings of this mafia, but they were mired too deep into the quicksands of crime. He regretted deep inside having turned them into this life of a gangster. Especially Pesci. He was too young, too naive. He never deserved a life like this. He never deserved to see his big brother crushed under the wheels of a locomotive, and be torn apart alive shortly after by that damn Bucciarati's stand to spend his final moments in pain and terror at the cold, freezing abyss of a lake.

He despised himself at not having been able to save them. Of having failed to free them from the binds of this miserable existence. But it was too late. Since the day Sorbet and Gelato befell their dreadful end, he swore that he would lose no more further. But he did. One by one. And every single day, Risotto returned to find his home a little bit emptier.

Until there was none.

He was all alone in this cold, cruel, void, everyone he had ever cared about but a distant memory or a pallid lifeless corpse. There was nothing left for him. No one to turn to. Not even Formaggio's uplifting cracking jokes or Prosciutto's affectionate reassurance. He hated Giovanna and his allies for everything they did. If he could, he wanted to take their lives with his own bare hands, make them pay for the pain they wrought. But what would it bring him? Satisfaction? Justice?

There is no justice in this wretched world, Risotto thought bitterly. That's why I am here in the first place.

He could murder Giovanna and Bucciarati and the Boss for all he cared, but the damage was already done. Nothing he could do would bring back his family. They were dead, gone forever, and all of his efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing left for him, but a future of emptiness.

Why did he have to suffer? What did he do to deserve all this? They were bad people who did bad things, but it wasn't their fault they were forced to become what they were. Risotto whimpered like a frightened child as he curled up on the bloodstained sofa, embracing himself tightly in a futile effort to make the pain go away, the pain of his body's wounds, and the agony that seared his soul like hellfire.

He wanted the pain to end.

A gleam caught his eye, down next to the sofa. Something black and shiny lay tucked against one side of the cushions It was Prosciutto's spare revolver, which he kept in good condition, and kept hidden away in case his original was lost or damaged if a mission went wrong.

It couldn't have gone more wrong.

Everything had gone wrong.

Their entire life had gone wrong.

With trembling hands and heaving breath Risotto reached out for the revolver and felt its cold, hard steel touch menacingly, and yet enticingly, to his stiff, shivering fingers.

Maybe this would make the pain go away.

For eternity.

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(afterword: yeah, told you this would get really depressing. i didn't know if Risotto would kill himself or choose to continue living, in which case he would just suffer all the more so yeah i never made a chapter two. oh well. sorry all you squadra fans for making you cry today)

[asans]

A Welcome from Sumeru

This is how I want my OC to meet the traveler.

:)

“Paimon is starting to feel very… slime.”

“Slime?” You ask.

“Yeah! Like… jelly.”

The traveler only nods, having noticed their companion talk less since entering the deserted land to reach Sumeru.

“Argh! We just left Inazuma where everyone looked strange at us to walk around for hours without seeing anyone! Paimon is even starting to worry if we are heading in the right direction.”

Hearing that, you decide to check your map again. Lisa had helped a lot when giving it to you, marking where she remembered to have identification spots to make the travel easier to reach the Oasis city.

And it does seem like you have lost your way at some point.

Looking around, there doesn't seem to be any landmark to explain where exactly you are. If you two are lost, then it would be better to wait for the stars to come out at night and find more precise directions again.

“Paimon is getting hungry. Do we still have any leftover from that Sweet Madame?”

She hovered closer, eyes sparkling at the thought of food. You ponder between giving it to her or not. In the end, seeing as no one knows how long it will take to reach the city, you tell her to eat later.

“But Paimon is really hungry! And Paimon knows you are too! So stop being a worry-head and let me eat something!”

Letting out a sigh, the traveler took out some food and both sat down to eat. It doesn't take long for something to happen.

“It’s another vishap again! Are these lizards following us?!”

While Paimon screams, you take out your blade to prepare for battle. Since entering this deserted land, geovishaps have been attacking you more intensely than ever. Perhaps it's your tiredness, but they feel stronger when compared to the ones in Liyue.

“Ah!”

Being whacked back, your body hurts from the impact and your hand lets go of your sword mid-flight. With adrenaline pumping inside your veins, you prepare to deliver a geo attack even down.

But upon looking up quickly, you get to see the moment two arrows strike the enemy in the eyes from behind you. It makes the monster tumble to the side before falling dead.

Turning your head, a tanned stranger with a bow seems to silently observe you.

“Are you ok? Did you break something?” Paimon flies over from where she had hidden. Tiny hands patting your body to make sure of your wellbeing.

The stranger squint their eyes behind rose-tinted glasses. With long steps they reach for your travel bag and food that have been forgotten to the side.

In swift movements, your bag of mora is in the stranger's hand.

“Hey! Those are ours, you thief!”

The tall woman scoffed at Paimon.

“Thief? I am no thief. Would I have helped if I was only after your money?” Reaching inside the bag, she takes five large coins before throwing the bag to you.

“Well, maybe not…? Still! It's not right to pick things from others like that! Right?” Paimon finishes looking at you for support.

You stand up, backing up your friend's opinion about the newly met stranger and her actions.

“Geez. You two are asking to be killed.”

Your blood runs cold from that. Even Paimon hides behind you when sharp pink eyes glance at you. Reading yourself to another fight, you get caught out of guard when the woman kneels and starts burying all the food you had left.

“Nooo! Paimon didn't even finish that!”

“Traveling with this type of ration. No wonder geovishaps keep ganging up on you.”

Some realization downs on the travelers head. You know how some life forms have a better sense of smell. So carrying something with such an appetizing smell, it was bound that monsters and animals would attack for it.

“Wait a second. How did you know this wasn't the first attack we suffered? Were you following us?!”

Instead of answering Paimon, the stranger stares at you for some time. You decided that there will be no better time for introductions than now. So that’s what you do.

“Sana from Sumeru.” It's her response, “Do you want me to escort you to the city? Travelers like you have less chance of arriving there in one piece without a local.”

Well, it would certainly help. You look at Paimon who is glaring at Sana.

“Or you could continue this wrong way and end up dying of thirst and hunger. It's not much of a problem for me anyway.”

You aren’t sure if Sana was joking.

“Ugh. Paimon doesn't like this, but we should follow her to Sumeru. When we arrive we will part ways right away! Delicious chicken wasted like that, so heartless…”

“Stop crying over food. Or do you want me to bury you instead?”

You intervene, saying that Paimon is emergency food now that there was no more Sweet Madame so there is no necessity to bury her.

“Stop saying that! It only makes Paimon angry now. It's not funny anymore!”

Ignoring the two of you, Sana starts to walk away. Quickly grabbing your stuff you run to stay close to her.

While following her, you ask about the five mora coins she grabbed earlier.

“What? It’s the payment for my escort. And from saving your butt back there. I don’t do things for free, sorry.”

She didn't sound apologetic at all. It has been some time since you met such a sardonic person. Even so, Sana doesn't appear to be a bad. To help someone in peril, there is no doubt the woman has some morals. Even if she's a bit rude about it.

“Since you are our guide now, can you tell us how to get to Sumeru? Or how the city is like?”

“I don't do small talk. And I'm not a travel guide. When escorting someone or a caravan, it's courteous on my part to keep my mouth shut. Paimon, right? Please try to understand my side.”

That made Paimon pout and get near you. In just one interaction Sana got to make your flying companion silent in their own volition. If that was not an achievement, it was impressive all the same. Most of the time Paimon speaks in your stead in dialogues.

So the trip goes like this:

Paimon talks and complains about Sana to you while the escort ignores and keeps her attention on the environment.

“Quiet, someone is here.” Is the order out of nowhere from Sana. It makes your friend shut up and glance around wary.

Using your elemental vision it is easier to see a thin trail left behind by something. For you it could be a rock slime or a lizard, but Sana’s head keeps turning. Almost like she is trying to hear something.

“Found you.” Is the warning, before the archer uses her elemental ability. Yellow vines surge from underground, pulling a man immobilized from it. Thorns make him grunt in pain as they dig his dark skin. A faint green glow on his clothes suggests him to be another dendro user.

“Wow, Deron! It’s been so long since we last saw each other.” Sana smirk and approached this Deron man. A cold breeze makes your hair stand on its end.

“Sana. You bitch!”

“Hahaha! Always the gentleman.” Her green ponytail danced with her outburst of laughter. “Say, are you here only to greet me?”

Deron doesn’t answer. His death glare to Sana didn't flinch.

“Deron, you empty headed child. Not answering is a type of answer. Who sent you?” She put a hand inside his tunic while asking, some blood getting on her tanned skin. A small bag of mora is the only sound breaking the silence.

After looking inside it, Sana gives it to you. Seeing how the men didn't speak, your escort sigh. She also takes his dendro vision, putting it in a hidden pocket on her trousers.

“You were always a pain for me. Why would it be different now? Well, it was nice seeing you again Deron.”

Taking his knife, Sana cut deep in his throat faster than anyone could blink. The sound Deron makes before dying is chilling to the bone.

When she turns to you again, Paimon hides behind you shaking in fear. You want to ask so many things, but nothing comes out when opening your mouth. She notices it nonetheless.

“Ah, him? Was an old friend from my last workplace. Wow, how time flies.” Her thumb point back to the body. The little splashes of blood on her face making her intimidating to look at.

After cleaning her hands, Sana grabs Deron’s purse from you again. A smile appearing on her serious expression.

“Heavy. I’d say… someone with power is after you already. What a great Welcome from Sumeru.”

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #18 - Perspectives

Devil’s Advocate - ‘a person who advocates an opposing or unpopular cause for the sake of argument’

————————————————————

“Katsum, you must remember. These men have lived far longer in a world where every dragon they crossed tried to kill them and everyone around them,” Aymeric chided, gently setting down the cup of tea on the table in front of her, “I too came from the same outlook though not as long as most of these men have lived, and we simply did not have the same upbringing with the truths and stories as you did.”

Katsum sighed, shaking her head as she lifted her tea cup and looked down with a scowl at the dark drink that had a little heat still steaming off of it, “I know that, I do…or I try to,” She meet Aymeric’s gaze as he sat in the chair beside her, “It’s just after all that’s happened since the end of the war…and even during like Vidolnir saving Maelie and Raihogg threatening Nidhogg’s shade when he attacked the peace conference! Surely they should be able to see. You do!”

Aymeric sighed gently, “You must look at it from their perspective, Kat. To you, you could see their intentions. You could understand their motives. To the others gathered, it was a beast they were taught to fear being far closer than they believed they ever should be.”

“Then why not just hear what I have to say and try and see through my eyes as well?”

“Because they are old men stuck in their ways and incredibly stubborn.”

“I am stubborn as well—”

“Yes, my love, trust me I know,” She frowned at this and he quickly retracted, “I-I mean that in the best way, kat. You know that right?”

“I think so…,” She looked down at her hands again, “Sorry, yes, I’m just…frustrated.”

Her ears perked as she watched his hand move to rest on hers, softly caressing it with his thumb, “If only it were that easy, Kat, yet you yourself have seen how they are. Indeed, those actions helped them see that the dragons were not of the mind to fight, yes, they still needed time to see the full truth within their hearts. While many have come to see it, others still need time to. And while I agree that yes they should just listen to us, especially with your loving heart only hoping for peace and the harmony you’ve heard of all your life, they are just far more headstrong and unwilling to compromise than you could ever be.”

The miqo'te blinked before she huffed and shrugged, “I don’t know about all of that but…I’ll try to not be so quick to snap, ok?” She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye as she took a long sip of her tea. She knew he was right, yet her patience was always tested when one of said stuffy nobles tried to talk down to her about her dragons and the ‘blight it brought their proud history’. How she wished she could freely control and share the echo so that she could show them the real truth, just to silence their petty rambling.

Aymeric’s chuckle broke her from her trance as she looked up at him, blushing slightly at the intensity of his smiling eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing really. Just admiring you,” He lifted his own tea cup to his lips without taking his eyes off of her as he grinned and added, “And whether you believe it or not, your kind and caring heart is beautiful, and a shining ray of hope.”

Her blush darkened as her ears fell again, “T-Thank you, Aymeric.”

“Of course, my Kat.”

She smiled sweetly at him and they took another sip of tea together, soon finishing their first cups. Aymeric moved to pour himself another and filled Katsum’s again as well as she set it on the table.

Katsum chuckled pitifully as she dropped another cube of sugar in her cup, “If only I was better at politics and speaking with them lik you are.”

“By the Fury, do not wish for that,” Aymeric laughed tiredly as he sitrred his tea, “It is utterly draining, always speaking with them about the same matters every few days, and they are hardly ever up lifting their decisions. Oftentimes, we do not settle a matter, but rather postpone it before it comes to blows. It was worse in our first few discussions, but the slight issue of it is still present,” He raised his cup to her, “Thank the heavens I have your loving arms to come home to and rest my soul within.”

The knightess smiled, “Happy to be of service, my lord.” She raised her cup to tae another happy sip of the delicious tea.

“You’ll still accompany me on this last meeting, yes?” He asked softly, an apologetic tone to his voice and a pleading look in his eyes.

Katsum nearly spit out her tea, “Another meeting? I thought we just finished the last one!”

“We did, yes…and there is one more.”

Katsum groaned, “Aymeric, I cannot handle another meeting today…I don’t know how you can stand so many!”

“I can because I give myself something to look forward to after it is over. For example, I often just remind myself I shall be home and spend time with you as soon as it is over. So, I offer this,” He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, “We will spend the rest of the day laying in bed and cuddling. What say you to that?”

She grinned and looked up at him, “We would have done that anyway, Aymeric.”

“Yes, but now you are looking forward to that more, yes?”

“…Touche.”

“So?”

“Alright, very well, you have convinced,” She leaned her head on his shoulder, “Can’t have my knight suffering alone after all.”

He smiled warmly and leaned in to peck her lips sweetly, “You have my deepest gratitude, my love.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark  /  remove it with the kiss of a knife  /  even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

[urlocalfrogmammy]

i’m scared of telling you how i feel—richard winters

inspired by

y/n is infatuated with dick. dick is infatuated with you. the only two people clueless enough not to see it is the both of you. nix is sick of it, and decides to give you a push

god bless richard winters. warnings: my love for gingers rlly pulling thru. word count 1.7k

'HQ' at bastogne was really just a tent like structure with a few foxholes and a stove. you left your foxhole, the early morning fog shrouding you as you padded over. you were met with lewis nixon and richard winters, and you saluted, greeting the men. "i want you to go with captain winters. he's doing a patrol of the line, collecting some reconnaissance will be your job." having captain nixon as your boss had many benefits, and being able to see his best friend, dick winters, was the best one. how you mooned over him. the all american solider, always the gentleman of the room. you'd first bonded at the new years party at aldbourne. it had been a relatively quiet night, yet the both of you seemed to be the only sober ones there. you’d known each other beforehand, vaguely, due to nix. but that night was when your crush began to grow. and jesus, it never stopped.

the man in question was attempting to shave his stubble, ever the stickler for rules, and was failing miserably. in your moment of distraction nixon grasped your bare hands. "where are your gloves?"

"i'm lending them to doc, sir." he pulled you towards the stove and you started to warm your hands over it, feeling the warmth tingle and smiling. "you look like your struggling there dick.” nixon smirked at him.

“yeah. yeah i am, you want a job?”

“no. not me, you can’t trust me with a razor.” he nodded in your direction, “lieutenant y/n however, she’d be an excellent candidate.” both you and winters flushed. nixon nudged you to sit down next to dick and handed you a razor. “get to work, lieutenant.”

"you don't have to—"

"it's ok, sir. i don't mind." you gently held his chin in your hand and slid the razor down the shaving cream he'd lathered on his face. dick looked at you, watching the tip of your tongue slipping from between your lips in concentration and wondering what your lips would feel like against his. he was never one to be unprofessional like nix, but god he would break every rule in the book for you. "where are we patrolling sir?" you interrupted his thoughts.

"just down the line, looking for breaks, checking on the men, that kind of thing."

you smiled at him, cleaning the razor in the tin of water. "you care about the men a lot, don't you sir."

"yeah, i do. especially when i can see them struggling." he aimed the statement at you, he'd heard your crying at night. averting your gaze with a soft smile, he took your hand gently. "you'd tell me if you needed help wouldn't you?"

"yes sir." your voice was quiet and sincere. "now let's get this finished."

you shaved the rest of dick's face in silence, with just the gentle sound of the razor grating against the stubble. you lifted the edges of the towel around from his shoulders and used them to wipe excess shaving cream off his face, and suddenly remembered that he was your superior. dropping the towel like it had burned you, you mumbled an apology. "that wasn't my... i shouldn't have done that."

"it's alright y/n. i think we've known each other long enough now." he gave you a smile, and you ducked your head, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. the snow suddenly became fascinating, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he stared at you. “shall we get going with that patrol, lieutenant?”

“sounds good sir.”

you were freezing. freezing cold. so was dick, you could tell by the way he clung to himself. you resisted the urge to shudder, instead letting out shuddery breaths and chattering your teeth. "they'll hear you from across the line y/n."

"sorry, sir."

"it's not y—"

you both heard it. an unmistakable rustle in the bushes. both you and dick grabbed and aimed your rifles, it was like second nature now. your blood thumped in your ears, and your heart thumped in your chest. there was a rustle again and you called out: “who’s there?” no reply. suddenly you heard the click of a gun and you pulled the trigger of your rifle, no thought and no hesitation. there were two thuds. one was the body of whoever you’d just shot. the other was the dull thud of your rifle landing on the snow. dick ran over to see what had been shot, his rifle still up and ready to shoot. you scuttled behind him.

the german was dead. you'd killed him instantly. in a way it made you grateful, that he hadn't suffered the way you'd seen some men suffer. "i killed him." the words tumbled out your mouth, your hands trembled and your breaths started to get shorter. dick took your wobbling hands in his. "you did what you needed to do to save us." you looked down to try and conceal the tears that had spilled over, and were now trickling down your face, but the captain gently lifted your chin up. the butterflies in your stomach were doing cartwheels at this point, as dick’s fingers brushed your tears away. “let’s go back. nix can do this.”

“but—”

“that’s an order lieutenant.” he said it ever so gently, it didn’t feel like an order. it felt like a plea.

back at HQ, dick hurried you to sit by the stove and you complied, though the shakes that wracked your body weren't from the cold. "what happened to her?" nixon asked, offering you a flask of alcohol that you took with juddering hands, thanking him quietly. "she shot a german."

"isn't that what she's trained to do—"

"it could have been anyone captain nixon."

"but it wasn't. you saved us y/n. two seconds later and we'd be on our way to an aid station." you sipped the whiskey in nixon's flask. "thought you didn't drink?"

"i don't, sir."

dick stood up and told lewis he wanted him on the patrol instead. "be careful nix."

"i will." he slung his rifle over his shoulder. “oh and dick? tell her, i’m sick of waiting.” smirking, he sauntered off.

"tell me...what?"

"he's just... you know what he's like." dick smiled and you smiled back, though your heart was heavy with disappointment. the redhead took a seat next to you and began to warm his hands too. "cold here, huh?"

you dissolved into giggles at this wholly obvious statement. dick quirked a smile at you and you couldn't stop, until the laughing became crying and you found your body wracked with sobs.

dick was on you as soon as he saw you break. an arm round your shoulder and a hand in yours, he rocked you side to side and shushed you gently. "it's stupid."

"no, no y/n it's not." it broke his heart as he felt you cling to his sleeve. repressing a smile as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, dick tentatively ran his fingers through the matted hair of your ponytail. you seemed to enjoy the gesture, so he continued until you settled down. he felt a loss of warmth as you sat up. wiping your eyes, you mumbled an apology to the captain. "it's alright y/n. go get some sleep."

"captain winters?" it was late, but you found yourself hounded by images of the man you'd shot that afternoon. you could have tried nixon, but you knew as well as anyone he was a heavy sleeper when he was drunk. richard pulled the cloth covering his foxhole over and popped his head out. "i can't sleep." realising how stupid you were, you backed away. "sorry, i don't know why i woke you—"

"would you like to... talk?"

"i er... yeah. yeah."

"come on then." he held out a hand to help you into his foxhole. sitting side by side, dick slipped his hand into yours. "you okay?"

"yeah..." you leaned back into the wall of his foxhole. "i just have... a lot on my mind."

"about this afternoon?" his thumb began to trace circles on the back of your hand.

"yeah... not just that though. sir i—" you cut yourself off. the words you wanted to say were so right in every way, except you weren’t allowed to be in love in the army. you heavily exhaled. “you can tell me anything y/n, you know that.”

“i know dick, it’s just—”

“you called me dick.”

“oh... i’m sorry sir i—”

“i like it.” he gave you that smile that melted you and you felt relief flood you.

with that reassuring statement, you shakily admitted: "i'm scared of telling you how i feel. it's wrong, it's all wrong." dick's hand slipped out of yours and he turned away from you. "say it now. i can’t see you. makes it easier."

"does it?"

"yeah." you could hear the smile in his voice. you took three deep, steady breaths.

"i'm in love with you." dick didn't say anything, he just turned around and looked at you with those icy eyes you'd become so infatuated with. "really?" you nodded.

"ever since aldbourne."

dick grinned and leaned over to you. "can i?"

"yeah." it was one breathy word. dick's kiss was soft and gentle, filled with a caring kind of passion that you hadn't felt before. he cupped your cheek, gently stroking your hair back as you deepened the kiss. pulling away, smiling, dick placed his forehead on yours. “was it worth getting over your fear?”

“yes. a hundred times yes!” you squealed as he leaned down and captured your lips once again, feeling nothing more than pure joy in that moment.

the next morning you and dick woke up late. slipping out of his foxhole, you were greeted with the bright morning sun reflected onto the white snow, and lewis nixon looking smugger than ever. “did he tell you?”

“i told him.”

“damn.” he sipped his coffee. “what did you get up to in there?”

“nothing that would interest you nix!” dick called out, emerging from his foxhole and slapping his helmet onto his head. the captain wiggled his thick eyebrows at you and winked. you could feel yourself blush, but you opted to shake your head at him in mock disappointment. you were too happy to be embarrassed.

[frenchfrysplash]

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 5/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She’s here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

————————————–

Somewhere deep in the dark

A howling beast hears us talk

- Of Monsters and Men, Yellow Light

July 1991

A small girl was staring Jamie down.

"Hmmm." Jamie's gaze flickered between her opponent and her cards. "Got any eights?"

"Go Fish," said the small girl.

"No eights at all?" Jamie asked, incredulous. "None?"

"Nope."

"You didn't have any aces either."

"Mm-mm."

"Or any kings. Or queens. Or jacks."

A shake of the head.

"Are you holding fake cards or something? Am I being tricked?"

The little girl giggled. "Go fish!"

"I think I'm being cheated," Jamie grumbled, as she picked up a card to add to her impossibly large hand. "Poppins, do you think she's cheating?"

"Sam would never cheat," Dani said automatically from the kitchen.

"Right," Jamie narrowed her eyes. "Well, go on then. Ask me."

"Got any twos?" Sam, who was most certainly cheating, asked.

Jamie handed them over.

"I can't believe I'm getting my arse handed to me by a five-year-old," she muttered.

"Please don't swear in front of the children," Dani called.

Jamie's head whipped towards her, eyes round. "How did she even hear that?" She stage-whispered to Sam.

"She has super hearing," Sam whispered back. "That's what Liz says."

"She might be on to something." Jamie looked at the other small girl in her charge, who was leaning against Jamie's arm with a book that looked far too old for her. "What d'you think, Lizzie?"

"Dani's a superhero," Liz said, not looking up from her book.

"Oh?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you say that?"

"She has different coloured eyes."

"That's called het-hetro-hetrachr-hetercho-" Sam's little face scrunched up as she attempted the word.

"Heterochromia," Dani supplied, appearing at the door to the kitchen, smiling softly.

"Yeah!" Sam waved at her. "That!"

"Dani," Jamie said solemnly. "If that's really how you feel, I understand, but we have an apartment together-"

She was cut off by a dish towel hitting her in the face, causing the two little girls to dissolve into giggles.

"Ok, troublemakers," Dani said, ignoring her girlfriend's indignant spluttering. "Dinner's ready. Go wash your hands please."

The two little girls leapt up, and raced for the bathroom. Jamie put her ridiculous hand of cards down and pushed herself up off the ground, groaning.

"I'm getting old," she said, stretching. "Shouldn't be sitting on floors so much anymore."

"You can crouch in front of a rose bush for hours," Dani said, coming over to her. "But you can't sit on a floor for a game of cards?"

"I am filled with complexities, me," Jamie said, grinning.

Dani hummed, and began straightening Jamie's clothes, where they had gotten rumpled from sitting on the floor. She adjusted the collar sticking out over her sweater, and pressed a soft kiss to Jamie's lips.

"Gross!"

The two women broke apart, still smiling, and turned to face the children, now hovering in the doorway, hands out to cover each other's eyes. Dani laughed, and made her way over to them, hands on her hips.

"Alright, alright," she said. "Let's see those hands."

Sam and Liz held out their hands, and Dani inspected them closely, turning each one over, before nodding decisively.

"Perfectly clean," she said. "Let's eat."

She led the little girls into the kitchen, where dinner was set on the table; home-made pizza, with toppings added by Sam and Liz and Jamie, crust made by Dani. Excited, the little girls clambered into their seats, waiting impatiently for Dani and Jamie to sit at their own.

Babysitting the Larson twins was always an experience, one Jamie treasured. Dani hadn't had many chances to interact with kids since Bly, and while Jamie knew she was happy in their life together - with the shop, the apartment, the one-day-at-a-time-but-not-really of it all - she recognized that working with children was something Dani missed. So watching her talk to the two girls about why pineapple was objectively the best pizza topping made Jamie's heart ache in the best way.

"I dunno, Poppins," Jamie said, making a face. "I believe fruit of all kinds should be kept away from pizza."

"I like it," Liz declared. "Can we put pineapple on pizza next time?"

"For sure!" Dani said warmly.

"Absolutely not," Jamie said at the same time.

They pretended to glare at each other from across the table, though Jamie could see that Dani was fighting back laughter.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Dani said to Liz. "We won't let mean ol' Jamie get in the way of our delicious pizza."

"We won't!" Liz said gleefully, shaking her head to add emphasis.

A tug on Jamie's sleeve caused her to look at the other twin, who was leaning over the table towards her with an earnest expression.

"I don't want pineapple either," Sam whispered.

"We'll stage a rebellion, don't you worry," Jamie whispered back.

"What's a rebellion?"

"It's when you stop Poppins here from ruining pizza."

Sam's eyes lit up. "We're gonna have a rebellion!" She exclaimed.

"Can I help?" asked Liz.

"No! You're on Dani's side!"

"I wanna be in the rebellion!"

"Now look what you've done," Dani said, voice long-suffering.

"I feel a little rebellion is good for 'em," Jamie said, leaning back in her chair and resting her arms behind her head. "Builds character."

Dani sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling. Jamie grinned back, warmth swelling in her chest like a balloon.

After dinner they put on The Little Mermaid, which Dani had rented and which the twins watched with wide eyes. This, unfortunately, had the side effect of a sing-along beginning just as Dani and Jamie tried to put the girls to bed. A long, adorable battle ensued, until the kids were fast asleep, and Dani and Jamie were cuddled together on the couch, sipping wine and relaxing.

"God, kids are tiring," Jamie sighed, snuggling further Dani's neck. "You're warm."

"I absolutely blame you for that last burst of energy at the end there," Dani said, fingers trailing through Jamie's hair.

Jamie craned her neck to look up at her. "Oi, what'd I do?"

"'Little bit of rebellion's good for 'em,'" Dani mocked her, accent as terrible as it had been that morning in the greenhouse. "'Builds character.' God you're so full of it sometimes."

"I stand by it," Jamie said, settling back down and nuzzling at Dani's collarbone. She placed a small kiss there and smiled, humming contentedly.

They lay in silence for a moment, Jamie dozing in the comfort of Dani's embrace, Dani gazing at the Star Trek episode playing on TV.

"Have you thought about having kids?"

Jamie jolted into awareness, pushing herself up so she was level with Dani's face, which was still turned towards the television.

"Run that by me again?" Jamie asked, breathless.

Dani turned to look at her, the crease between her blue eyes signalling her seriousness.

"Kids," she repeated. "Have you thought about it?"

"Well, I mean, I, uh." Jamie stopped, breathed in, and started again. "Honestly, Poppins, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't."

Dani nodded, looking away, corners of her mouth curling downwards. "Right."

"With you, Dani," Jamie said, adjusting herself so she could use her other hand to push Dani's chin up, to face her. "You - you get that, yeah? I've thought about having kids with you, specifically."

A humourless smile flashed across Dani's face. "Well, I'm not sure that's physically possible, but I can do my best."

Jamie allowed herself a small chuckle. "We'll come back to that when we're back in our apartment," she said. "But seriously, Dani, have you thought about kids? With, uh." She cleared her throat. "With me?"

Dani didn't answer right away, eyes unfocusing as she seemed to consider this.

"Of course I have," she said finally. Her voice was rough, and Jamie was dismayed to see unshed tears in her eyes. "Jamie, of course I've thought about having kids with you." The tears spilled over, and Jamie felt that familiar panic at the thought of Dani crying rising in her chest.

"Oh, darlin'." Jamie leaned up, kissing her on her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and the corner of her mouth. "I swear I wouldn't be that terrible of a mum. No need to cry at the thought."

Dani laughed, wiping at her eyes. "No, you idiot," she said affectionately. "I think you'd be a great mom. That's the problem."

At Jamie's confused expression, she sighed.

"She could still take me," she said softly. "You know that."

Jamie nodded. "I do," she said, matching Dani's quiet tone.

"So no matter how much I want it," Dani took in a shuddering breath. "It just can't happen. Because then I might leave you, alone, with a child, and I can't-"

Fresh tears came then, and Dani buried her face in Jamie's neck, entire body shaking. Jamie cradled the back of Dani's head, pressing her lips to her hair and murmuring soothingly. After a few minutes, Dani stilled, and pulled back.

"Oh." She tutted. "Your shirt." She wiped ineffectively at the damp spot on Jamie's shirt.

"Don't worry about it, it'll dry." Jamie ducked her head to catch Dani's gaze, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. "Hey, look at me for a second."

Dani forced herself to look into Jamie's eyes, lip still trembling.

"Listen," Jamie said. "I never thought I would even consider having a family before." She paused, lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. "My, ah, history with families isn't exactly great, as you know. And growing up, the way I did, and then realizing I was more interested in the fairer sex, well," she shot Dani a small grin. "I never thought kids were in the cards for me. Thought, even if they were, I would probably fuck 'em up somehow. But you," she laughed lightly, and ran her knuckles gently down Dani's cheek. "God, Dani, with you, anything seems possible, y'know?"

Dani's lips quirked up in a small smile. "You're so good with Sam and Liz, and with Miles and Flora." She shifted, pulling herself further up on the couch. "Give yourself more credit."

"Bit different being a babysitter or an aunt than it is being a mum," Jamie pointed out.

"That's what I mean," Dani said. "You deserve the chance to find that out for yourself."

"Dani," Jamie said warningly. "Don't. Don't go down that road."

It wasn't a new conversation; that Jamie deserved more, deserved better, deserved someone she knew would stick around, wouldn't leave her one night as a ghost took Dani away.

"Jamie," Dani started. "It's not fair-"

"No, it's not," Jamie agreed, pushing up to lean her forehead against Dani's. "It's not fair, because you'd be an amazing mum, and with you, I think I would have a good chance at not making any messes. It's not fair that we won't get that chance."

Dani's breath hitched, more tears leaking out. She opened her mouth, no doubt to keep arguing that Jamie shouldn't have to stay tied to a dead woman walking, but footsteps from the hallway interrupted her.

"Is that one of the kids?" Dani asked, twisting awkwardly to look.

"No," Jamie breathed, staring at the doorway to the hall. "It's not."

Viola smiled back at her sadly, looking more human than Jamie had ever seen her. Still not quite there - like a wax figure at Madame Tussaud's, Jamie thought, but her eyes were no longer cloudy, and she seemed to be almost completely dry. Slowly, Jamie pushed herself up from where she lay tangled in Dani, so she was sitting up straight on her knees.

"It's not fair," Viola said, moving into the room, words dropping like stones into the room. "And I suppose it's my fault, isn't it?"

"Oh," Jamie's mouth twisted, anger welling up in her chest. "D'you think?"

"Yes." Viola stopped at the couch, and sat down next to Jamie, who realized with a start that Dani had disappeared. "None of us really had a chance to be mothers, did we?" She looked at Jamie. "You, me, or Dani."

"You took her away before we could even try," Jamie bit out, fists clenching on her thighs.

"You're angry," Viola observed. "I understand."

"Do you really?" Jamie asked, voice shaking. "You took Dani's life from her. Stole it, before her time. We could have had so many more years together. We could have had a family. There are so many things we are never going to get to do, because you-"

She stopped, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose, nostrils flaring. Slowly, she sank back onto her heels, counting backwards from twenty.

This was not productive, she reminded herself. Her anger would do nothing to help Dani.

"I-" Viola's voice made Jamie open her eyes again. "I understand. How you feel."

Jamie said nothing, fighting to keep her temper under control.

"Well, perhaps not exactly," Viola reasoned, watching Jamie out of the corner of her eye. "I was a mother, but not in a way that mattered. By the time she was old enough to remember me, I was an ill, bitter woman. A ghost, really."

"Ironic," Jamie said stiffly.

Viola chuckled. "Yes." She agreed. She looked at Jamie, eyes dark and sad. "I think I've been looking for her, all these years. I want her to be with me."

Jamie frowned. "You wanted to bring your daughter to be with you," she said slowly. "At the bottom of a lake?"

Viola's mouth hardened. "She's my daughter. Shouldn't she be with me?"

"At the cost of her life?"

Jamie barely flinched at Dani's voice. Somehow, she had felt her before she spoke, standing behind the couch, arm resting next to Jamie's head. She was staring at Viola, eyes hard, brow furrowed, fist clenched.

"I am her mother," Viola said, rising from the couch and turning to face Dani, voice growing louder. "She should have been with me the whole time. My time with her was taken from me. All I wanted was to get back what was rightfully mine."

"Your daughter was a person," Dani said. "She wasn't anyone's."

Viola scoffed. "Of course you would say that."

"Of course she would-" Jamie looked between the two women, eyes wide. "What does that mean?"

Dani and Viola continued to glare at each other, as darkness closed in on all sides around them. Jamie grabbed for Dani's hand desperately, only to watch her fingers slip through it as though there was nothing there.

"Dani-!" But Dani was gone. Viola was gone. All at once, Jamie's vision was filled with a blinding light, and her hearing deafened by a great clap of thunder, and then there was nothing.

Nothing, except-

————————————–

June 1987

The thunder rumbled twice more before fading away, the blessed silence letting Jamie relax back into the couch cushions, unknotting the tension in her shoulders slowly. She eyed Miles and Flora, fast asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace; but neither of them had woken up, evidently exhausted from all the excitement of the night.

It was always strange, being at the manor after dark. Jamie was usually gone by supper, or just after when she was coaxed to stay by Flora or Owen. The great house became unfamiliar to her at night, painted with shadows and strange noises, the life that filled it during the day falling into an uneasy sleep.

But it wasn't so bad now. The sitting room was warm, and Jamie was comfortably ensconced on the couch next to Dani, content that even if Peter Quint had been spotted on the grounds, everyone she loved was in one room, and her shotgun was within reach. The spiked hot chocolate had even loosened her enough to let herself watch Dani out of the corner of her eye, as Dani studied the polaroid of Peter and Rebecca.

"Oh," Hannah's voice, quiet, from across the room, where she had fallen asleep against Owen's shoulder. "God, I'm so sorry, I-truth be told, I haven't slept well for days."

"Oh Mrs. Grose," Owen replied softly. "It is too late now." He gestured to his shoulder. "Go on, tuck in and relax for a bit."

Jamie smiled into her drink as Hannah let her head fall back to Owen's shoulder. Her eyes slid over to Dani, and she felt a familiar hitch in her chest at the sight. This little crush, which she'd been nursing on the au pair ever since Dani had told her she was right to be angry about her roses, was starting to get annoying.

"Rather that was you curled up there?" she murmured, leaning forward and dragging Dani's attention away from the photograph. At Dani's confused expression, she motioned towards Owen and Hannah.

"Every girl in the village is mad for him," she said, rolling her eyes. "And he doesn't even know it, which makes it even worse."

Dani laughed softly, but immediately turned back to the photograph.

"They look like Bonnie and Clyde," she said.

Jamie held back a scoff. "Yeah, if Clyde fucked Bonnie over." She scowled at the photo in Dani's hand. "He got away, she paid the price."

"So, what," Dani turned to her. "He's stalking a dead woman? Risking prison for someone he didn't even bother to bring along? That doesn't make sense."

Jamie sighed, avoiding Dani's eyes and staring at the polaroid. "The wrong kind of love," she said simply. "Can fuck you up. Follow you. Make you do some really stupid shit."

Across the years, she caught a glimpse of brown eyes, a grinning mouth with her name on the lips, and the flashing blue of police lights.

"And those two," she glanced from Dani to the photograph. "Believe me, that was the wrong kind of love."

"We've all been in the wrong kind of love for one reason or another," Dani said.

"Mm, but I saw how he twisted himself into her." Jamie's mouth hardened at the memories, and she missed the way Dani turned slowly towards her, memories of her own flashing briefly across her face. "Burrowed in deep." Dani had turned away by the time Jamie glanced at her, and she averted her own gaze from the au pair's face. "I dunno why so many people mix up love and possession. But guess what that means? He didn't just trap her. He trapped himself." She glared at the Peter Quint in the photo. "And I hope she haunts that fucker forever."

There was a moment of silence, in which Dani gazed at Jamie, and Jamie gazed at the photograph, hating the memory of Peter Quint, mourning the memory of Rebecca Jessel, trying to banish the memory of a body floating in the lake she saw every day.

"People do, don't they?" Dani said softly. "Mix up love and possession?"

Startled, Jamie met her eyes, the air instantly becoming heavier around her. She swallowed, and nodded.

"Yeah, they do," she said.

"I don't think that should be possible." Dani's voice was a whisper, but her words seemed so loud to Jamie, striking her between the ribs and making it hard to breathe. "I mean, they're opposites, really. Love and ownership."

She seemed so earnest, eyes wide and mouth set. For the first time, Jamie let herself look; didn't avert her eyes or turn away, find a reason to look anywhere but directly at Dani Clayton's face. She had feared it might be like looking into the sun too long, and that she would eventually be blinded. But instead-

Instead, she found Dani looking back.

"Yeah," she said, the word so quiet it was only for herself and Dani to hear.

The room narrowed to the couch, to just Dani and Jamie. Dani nodded slightly, something like relief flickering across her face.

"She comes here often, you know."

Jamie's head whipped around, hands gripping her mug hard when she saw Viola standing next to her, pale skin shining a sickly yellow in the light of the table lamp. Viola walked around the back of the couch, her hand trailing over the wooden frame, both Jamie and Dani's eyes following her.

"I'm not sure what it is, about this memory," Viola continued, coming to a stop at the end of the couch, looking down at Dani curiously, who stared back, brow furrowed. "It's not where she fell in love with you. Not even where her affection for you began. She already felt something for you here."

And Jamie knew that. Dani had told her, years from this moment, that her feelings had started earlier than this, when Jamie had consoled her during her panic attack. That she had felt that same familiarity Jamie had when they'd first laid eyes on each other.

But this moment, this conversation on the couch - something had happened here; something they had never spoken about, because they had never needed to. An understanding. More than that, really. Recognition. A deepening of the connection they had both felt in that first moment in the kitchen.

Ah, there you are.

"Viola," Dani started, voice strangely gentle, like she was speaking to a student, but Viola shook her head.

"I have listened to you have this conversation many times now," she said, frustration colouring her voice, as she sat in one of the chairs near Dani. "And I have yet to understand."

Dani and Jamie glanced at each other. Jamie straightened up, placing her mug on the table beside her, and cleared her throat.

"It's about," she paused, looking to Dani for support. "Rebecca and Peter - do you remember Peter?"

Viola shook her head. Jamie frowned.

"You killed him," she said drily.

Viola blinked, and for a moment, she almost looked ashamed. Then it was gone.

"I don't remember," she said quietly. "I don't remember much from this time."

"Right," Jamie said, unconvinced.

Dani reached for Jamie, sliding their fingers together and squeezing.

"It's not about Rebecca and Peter," Dani said softly, eyes on Jamie. "Not really."

"No, I suppose not," Jamie replied, ducking her head and looking at their joined hands.

"My ex - my - Eddie," Dani's breath hitched, and Jamie's thumb started rubbing circles on the back of her hand. "You've seen Eddie. In my memories."

Viola nodded. "You were too good for him," she said primly.

Dani smiled weakly, shaking her head. "No, that's not," she took a breath. "He loved me. But not - he loved the person he thought I was. And more than anything, he wanted me to stay that person." She closed her eyes. "It's like, those cases of butterflies you see in museums. He caught me, and he wanted to keep me, and to never let me change." She opened her eyes again, looking at Viola with a grim expression. "Do you understand that?"

Viola was quiet, brow furrowed. "You didn't love him back," she said finally.

"Not like that, anyway," Dani said, nodding. "Not the way he wanted me to love him."

Viola stared her, unblinking. "But you love her," she said, and her gaze shifted to Jamie. "You love her with everything you are. I felt it. Every day in your mind. I felt your love for her."

Dani smiled, and looked at Jamie. She raised their joined hands to her mouth, and kissed her knuckles.

"Yes," she breathed. "Of course I do. How could I not?"

Jamie smiled at her, though something was niggling at the back of her head.

Blue eyes, she thought distantly.

"I love my husband," Viola said. "And I love my daughter. And I would give anything for them to be with me. Anything. And yet." She stared at Jamie this time. "And yet, you wouldn't take her down, to join you. Even though she asked for it. Begged for it. Even though letting her go meant you would be without her."

"Jamie has a whole life to live still," Dani said evenly, hand squeezing Jamie's almost too hard. "I wouldn't - I couldn't - even if she wanted it -"

"I did," Jamie said quietly, drawing both Dani and Viola's attention to herself. "I would have happily drowned to be with you, you know that."

"I do," Dani said, a little helplessly. "And that's why I couldn't let you."

"I know," Jamie said, one side of her mouth quirking up in a sad half-smile.

"If I had the same chance," Viola said, voice brittle. "I would bring my family to be with me."

"Is that really what you'd want?" Jamie asked, leaning forward. "For your husband? For your daughter? To lay at the bottom of the lake forever? To slowly forget who she is?"

"Daughters should be with their mothers," Viola said firmly.

"Sometimes that's not how it works," Dani said, voice quiet.

"It should be," Viola insisted, eyes flashing dangerously. "It's one thing to let your wife go, but if you had a child you would understand. It's a mother's job to protect her child, to be there for her, to love her, and hold her close, and-"

"Mum?"

Viola fell silent, looking over Dani and Jamie's shoulders with a frown.

"Who-?" She asked, and then her eyes flicked to Jamie.

"Mum?"

The voice was familiar, and Jamie felt herself standing up before she could really think about it, something insistent pulling her towards the sound. Dani's hand slid out of her grasp as she made her way towards the hallway.

"Jamie," Dani said from behind her. "Jamie, what-?"

Jamie kept going, heart thudding in her chest, through the door, down the hall, and finally, stepped somewhere that wasn't Bly Manor, opened her mouth, and said,

[fruityutas]

taeyong x female!reader

genre ~ angst

synopsis ~ in taeyong’s eyes, you could do no wrong, but to everyone else, you were a she wolf preying on an unfortunate soul.

warnings ~ toxic relationship (please don’t let anyone treat you like this in real life, boy or girl), cursing, abuse

I felt like writing a really good angst lmao. Inspired by the song she wolf by shakira. also please don’t think i condone this type of behavior bc i do NOT!! the relationship portrayed in this story is extremely unhealthy and shouldn't be tolerated.

“i already fucking told you, taeyong. i don’t feel like talking about it.” your eyes scanned the room for your purse, while taeyong sat on the bed pouting.

 “i know but i don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. i’ll always be here to listen, baby.” you rolled your eyes at the man sitting before you, so oblivious to the fact that you were going clubbing for the men and not the drinks with friends like you had told him. you couldn’t say you didn’t love him, you weren’t sure if you did or not, but having other options was always fun. taeyong never liked going out, opting to stay at home and watch movies. you didn’t mind doing these things with him, but when he would always say no to going out even to a place that wasn’t a club, it got boring. you needed some fun in your life, not just the same routine over and over again.

“are you listening to me? are you ok, y/n?” you turned to face him and sighed into a smile. 

 “yes, love?” his eyes crinkled into crescents as he smiled at you.

 “i said i hope you have a good time with your friends. what time do you plan on being home?” you look away from his eyes and ponder. Are you coming home to him tonight? you decide that you will tonight.

 “i’ll try to be home by one, baby. does that sound good?”

 “that’s fine, i just want to know so i can be expecting you!” you walked over to him and hugged him, giving him soft pecks to the crown of his head. you do love him, but you just couldn’t live the same lifestyle as him. it was boring and bland, which seemed to fit his domestic personality.

there’s a she wolf in the closet, open up and set her free

 “taeyong, you’re such a fucking baby. you never do anything but stay home and pout when i go out to actually have fun.” your cool anger wasn’t something new to taeyong, it seemed like every other day it was awakened with something he did or didn’t do. his eyes filled with tears and you sigh, walking towards him. “i’m sorry, bubu. i’m just stressed from work recently. you’re not a baby. i love you, ok?” he nods pitifully and wraps his arms around you, sniffling a little bit. 

 “you should ask them for a day off, if you’re this stressed.” you smile at him and kiss his forehead softly.

 “ i’ll make sure to ask them tomorrow, but for now let’s cuddle, i’m tired.” you both headed upstairs to the bedroom.

s.o.s., she’s in disguise

taeyong had never been in a relationship prior to you, so how was he supposed to know what a healthy and non-healthy relationship looked like? he only knew you. his members would always tell him they were suspicious of you, always asking ‘does she have your best interests at heart?’ it hurt them to think their leader was suffering. but taeyong always brushed them off, saying he was fine and they didn’t need to worry. as the relationship went on, the more you hurt him, only to apologize and for him to forgive you. this deadly cycle was starting to show to his members. taeyong had never been this pale and skinny before, and they were worried.

there's a she wolf in disguise; coming out, coming out, coming out

as you stood in the practice room, glaring at taeyong, his members all gave each other looks of concern. when practice ended, you asked taeyong to come with you to talk privately.

 “what is it, baby?” his normally bright eyes were dull, yet they still held love when he looked at you.

 “you should spend more time with me.” his face filled with slight relief, then he smiled at you.

“i’m sorry that i’m so busy, i will make more time for you. i love you, you know that right?” you smiled with an underlying sinister look that taeyong seemed to not notice.

“of course i do, bubu. i love you too.”

it’s going well so far, she’s gonna get her way

taeyong had never seen you this angry before, and quite frankly, it scared the shit out of him.

 “WHY CAN’T YOU DEFEND ME FROM THEM? ALL THEY DO IS TALK ABOUT ME AND YOU, ABOUT US! AM I NOT A GOOD GIRLFRIEND?” the members all sat in silence, avoiding looking at you and their leader. taeyong took a shaky breath before turning to his members, 

 “i would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my girlfriend anymore. i don’t think it’s any of your business who i date and i feel like it’s disrespectful to our relationship to do so.” they all nodded in unison and apologized to you before walking out of the room. they didn’t get far before they heard you scream at taeyong again, but this time, they heard items being thrown and taeyong’s soft voice pleading for you to stop.

 “WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT WAS THAT, TAEYONG? THEY DONT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT RESPECTING US IF ALL THEY CAN DO IS SAY SORRY! I CANT DO THIS IF YOU DONT CARE ENOUGH ABOUT ME TO ASK THEM TO GENUINELY APOLOGIZE TO ME!”

 “y/n, i do care about you, please, stop throwing things.” taeyong’s pleads seep through the walls of the dorm, and much to the member’s dismay, you don’t stop your actions. they hear a loud thud against the wall before a small groan comes from their leader. 

 “stop fucking crying like a bitch, taeyong. or are you one? do you even give a damn about my feelings?” taeyong’s soft sniffles can be heard through the dorm and the members are all getting angrier by the second.

 “hey y/n, we think you should leave. we can’t have you acting like this here.” johnny shakily says through the door. you open the door and look up at the tall man with fire in your eyes.

 “i think you should all mind your own fucking business. let’s go taeyong.” the members protest, but taeyong still leaves with you, mumbling through his tears about how it’s going to be ok and that he’ll be back tomorrow.

s.o.s., she’s in disguise

[frenchibi]

A rant-essay about The Witcher books (and comparison to the show)

((after having read book one, and started into a good chunk of book two.))

Proceed at your own discretion, there will be a lot of frustration and swearing. Also, spoilers for basically the entirety of the Netflix show. Also, there is discussion of sexual assault and objectification and lots and lots of sexism.

The structure of my rant is as follows (because yes I structured it):

 1. Things that I enjoyed in the books

1.1 Geralt talks more

1.2 Geralt and Jaskier have a better relationship

1.3 The fairy tale theme

2. Things that made me want to scream

2.1 Geralt (is not a good character)

2.2 Yennefer (deserves better)

2.3 Jaskier's sexism (Netflix!Jaskier would NEVER)

2.4 Female Characters; Sexy Fantasy That Fucks (it's bad)

2.5 Narrative devices and structure (it’s bad)

3. Bonus: Why the audiobook grinds my gears

Total length: 4k words :’) Click to proceed.

(So, we’re doing this? I think forty likes is sufficient general interest, so... okay. Obligatory disclaimer here: This Is My Opinion. However, I am not fabricating any of the… grounds for my opinion, it is based on the content of the books, that I read, and which are broadly available, so anyone can read them and see for themselves. Personally, I would not recommend the experience, and below I will detail the reasons why. If, like I was, you’re hesitant about reading them, this essay might sway your decision either way. You might go “oh thanks op now I know I won’t like it” or “huh I think I wanna see this for myself because you’re yelling a lot”. It’s all equally valid. Anyway, let’s proceed with “things I enjoyed”.)

1.1 Geralt talks more Geralt in the books is a bit of a mess as far as characterization goes - but I don't hate that he's less stoic here and less... idk, arrogant/superior towards humans than he is in the show. He talks to people, engages with them, discloses opinions and thoughts and… it's a good look. We even get several pages of monologue from him at one point (because he is talking to a priestess who has taken a vow of silence, but I’ll take it – the books in general have a monologue/structure problem which I will address in 2.5) which is way more than the show ever provided us with. I’d like to say it gives us an insight into the character but maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, see below (2.1).

 1.2 Geralt and Jaskier have a better relationship

Geralt and Jaskier are FRIENDS. And I mean that literally the first thing we hear Geralt say about Jaskier in canon in book one is "of course I want to see him, he's my friend". Which - Netflix!Geralt could NEVER and I'm salty about it. Jaskier in the books has his own problems (2.3) but I still think he's my favorite overall, he's fun and Geralt genuinely enjoys his company. They travel together and ENJOY it, they joke, they reminisce and it is Good. Netflix, take notes.

 1.3 The fairy tale theme

This gets lost in the Netflix adaptation altogether but. The idea in the books is that all these monsters that Geralt encounters are dark twists on fairy tales and I'm HERE FOR IT. Renfri is literally Snow White But Badass. Cinderella, Rapunzel and Rumpelstiltskin’s stories are mentioned in passing, and other ideas that are explored here have fairy tale elements, e.g. slaying the dragon. It's cool, but apparently the story loses this aspect in later volumes so I guess it makes sense that the show decided to omit it. Still a bummer tho bc I liked that.

 So. Now on to Things that made me want to Scream, which is what we’re all really here for.

2.1 Geralt (is not a good character)

Geralt, oh Geralt, I wish you weren't such an obvious Mary Sue, Saviour™ and thinly veiled Jesus allegory. Geralt is always, ALWAYS right and it pisses me the fuck off. Geralt gets all the women he wants with NO PROMPTING and it makes me angry. Geralt always has the last laugh in every and any situation. Geralt is always smarter and more powerful than the Idiot Humans. Geralt ignores advice and suffers no consequences for it. Geralt has no well-thought out character, no consistency - he just is the "main character" and "hero" that the story needs - if the story needs him to be smart, he is, if it needs him to make a mistake, he does - he has no AGENCY and it’s BORING. Why am I supposed to care about him, exactly? Because the plot tells me to, and because everyone else is framed like an idiot in comparison and you’re supposed to like strong and smart characters. Cool. Bleh.

 2.2 Yennefer (deserves better)

Strap in, because this is the longest part.

Yennefer in the books is… a badass (but sexy) until the plot needs her to be a damsel (but sexy). She also occasionally has one (1) other character trait and that trait is Crazy Bitch.

I’ll admit I was not her biggest fan after the show (I didn’t really connect with her that much after she became vindictive™, though I gotta say her role in the last battle was Very Cool) but in the wake of what I have read so far, I have decided to AGGRESSIVELY STAN because she fucking. Deserves better. Oh my GOD it makes me so angry. Here’s how I think her character creation probably went:

"Ok so here we have Geralt, who is a badass, and So Cool, and he could have any Female he desires. But his Female can't be inferior and giggly and vapid like literally all other women - she needs to be the ideal fantasy Fantasy.

First: she needs powers. So we'll make her a Cool Sorceress! And more powerful than the other sorceresses because Geralt deserves the BEST. But also, he needs to be able to be Cooler and save her so she needs to be (like all females are, because they are inferior) emotionally volatile and vulnerable, and Geralt will also be the only one who gets to see that Vulnerability because Geralt has the biggest dick is her love interest. So she will be weak around him because he's just so hung wonderful.

Secondly, she needs a believable weakness (besides being too emotional because all women are too emotional), and as we all know, women have one purpose: to bREED. But not Yennefer - oh no, Yennefer is (wait for it, this is the dramatic backstory, hold your breath) broken, she's BARREN, USELESS AND EMPTY AND SHE HATES HERSELF FOR IT!!!!!

*pause for dramatic effect*

I know right that's so SEXY

[This is the point where I’m like… this might, possibly, maybe, under very different circumstances have been a compelling storyline if the author had ever consulted a woman. Or, you know, if the story was written by a woman. This is objectification and fetishization of the worst kind and I hate it. The show has this element too and it’s bad there too but it’s nowhere near as pronounced as in the books. Anyway-]

Speaking of sexy - obviously Yennefer is the sexiest of all the women Geralt has ever encountered. And because I, as the author, am aware that's unrealistic, I will drop in YET ANOTHER PIECE OF DRAMATIC BACKSTORY: She used to be a HUNCHBACK!!! *air horns* I KNOW RIGHT OH MY GOD and now she made herself SEXY with MAGIC because YOU KNOW ALL WOMEN WANT TO BE OBJECTIFIED BY MEN!!! SEXY FANTASY THAT FUCKS!!!!

[also? This is revealed to Geralt (and the reader) not by her telling him, or by a flashback, but because he "sees that she has the eyes of a hunchback". I can’t even begin to state how much I hate this.]

Anyway every time she shows up it will be mentioned how shapely her legs and breasts are and how young she looks despite the fact that she must be Old. She will turn heads and men will scorn her because she is too pretty and not interested in them and men hate anything that has any amount of sexual power or agency. but not Geralt, no, because he gets to fuck her at the end of the day so he's the only one who doesn't objectify her out loud. (but he does in his internal monologue. hooray.)

Also, to emphasize this point, we will have a side character sexually violate her while Geralt is tied up because that is The New Hotness™"

And if that wasn't enough, she as a character subscribes to what is known as "Female Hysteria For No Reason" and will become a Woman Scorned over absolutely nothing if the plot needs her to be angry.

The plot regarding her relationship with Geralt is also a bit different - in the show, she gets angry once she finds out Geralt's third wish ties them together (whether this is justified may be subjective - except yeah, no, she’s absolutely right, Geralt what the fuck??). In the book, she hears his wish as he makes it because MAGIC and is somehow SUPER INTO IT because this author has never met a human woman before.

...and then I need to complain about the storyline with the dragon. Because, you will remember, in the show, she gets angry and storms off after learning of the third wish, but that can’t be the case because she already knows about it in the books, right?

Well.

 The story in the books goes like this:

Six years ago, after one of their affairs™ Geralt leaves without waking Yennefer (but like. Leaves her flowers instead) and admittedly that's kind of rude but also like... ok. That doesn’t seem too strange a thing for Geralt to do. Maybe he just wanted to let her rest? Anyway.

They don't meet for six years, in which Geralt idk... idly misses her or something, and Yennefer develops a deep lasting hatred based on her abandonment issues…? (I am. grasping. there's no good reason if this relationship is as casual to both of them as they have made it sound, but she is SUPER MAD because the plot needs her to be ANGERY).

So with his backdrop, cue the search for the dragon. Geralt is like "eh I'll join them. I have nowhere better to be, also Jaskier is here and he's not boring so ok" and then he hears Yennefer will also be there and goes "oh well all the better, haven't seen her in a while"

And when he follows her to her tent to greet her, she spits verbal FIRE at him and is like "bitch you're lucky i didn't gouge your fucking EYES out" and other lovely statements of a similar calibre, and Geralt just stands there and takes it and tells her he missed her.

which implies either a) he knows what he did and he thinks he deserves this, or b) he has done nothing wrong in his own eyes and this is just "bitch crazy" to be ignored. It is heavily implied to be b), because, in our third person POV narrative, we get NO REMORSE from him, no indication as to what he thinks about this whole thing Yennefer is accusing him of, nothing at all in terms of emotional response to her. Cool. She yells at him and then storms of, and he just… idk, shrugs I guess?

So, they travel, Yennefer is Icy Bitch Queen but also everyone hates her and insults her to an absurd degree (see above, she's Too Sexy and Powerful and also like, a Woman) and she takes it without saying anything back but it's obvious that everyone's trash talk is affecting her (so it’s obvious that at some point she will be Vulnerable again). Jaskier, who seems to have no personal grudge against her at this point in the books, joins in the teasing because he's there to make fun of everyone I guess? (boy.) No deeper malice from him than from anyone else though.

And then, for drama, the party reaches a narrow bridge. They’re debating whether or not it is safe to cross with all their supplies and then BAM! there's a landslide so they have no choice. The events go like this:

- Geralt lets the others cross first. Right as he wants to cross, he hears Yennefer yell because her horse fell over, because of course it did

- Geralt abandons his own means of escape to go help her up, and then she proceeds to save his ass because SHE HAS FUCKING MAGIC THERE WAS NO POINT IN YOU GOING TO SAVE HER YOU FUCKER she just makes a shield so nothing hits them and they stumble to the bridge

- they get caught on the bridge as it collapses, and of course Yennefer is the one who falls first, and he catches her, so they're both hanging there and he's holding on to her suspended over this. Canyon or whatever.

- Jaskier, from above, yells to the others to get a rope to help pull them up but they respond to "wait until the bitch has fallen, then we'll pull the witcher up"

which. wow. but ok.

Yennefer can barely hold on, and HERE is where Geralt asks her to forgive him for… his wrongdoings…? (you know, can't have her die with a grudge, I guess? Or whatever?) He's like "Yen, forgive me" and she says "NEVER"

((and also, she has consistently kept telling him to stop calling her Yen (which he first started when they started... having Relations™ so obviously now it has bad memories attached to it for her), which he blatantly ignores because her feelings don't matter))

In the end, Jaskier gets the others to help despite their reluctance and hatred of Yennefer and they travel on. Yennefer's back to being Ice Queen - and then they find the dragon. Some fucker tries to fight it alone and gets injured. Yennefer is in charge of healing this dude, and so she ends up alone with Geralt in a tent – where she asks him to double-cross everyone else and kill the dragon himself (after telling them all she would cooperate with them) - "for me. I want the dragon, Geralt, for myself. All of it. I don't want to share. Kill it for me" and then explains that not all is lost because with certain parts of the dragon, SOMEONE CAN CURE HER BARRENNESS and i want to launch myself into the fucking sun

Geralt is like "uhhhh"

she says "on the bridge, you asked for my forgiveness- if you do this, I'll forgive you"

and then HE GOES "well, that no longer matters to me. I'm over it now" which hsadjlkfhsajdklfhsajkldfhaskdfsj I cannot begin to impart to you how many levels of “UGH” I felt at the predictable reversal of roles because he can’t ACTUALLY have to apologize to her – it’s HER who has to apologize to HIM for being an irrational Female

and now SHE'S all like. quivering lip and wanting him back or whatever and I am SICKENED that SHE IS THE ONE WHO HAS TO GROVEL NOW BECAUSE THE PLOT CANNOT HAVE GERALT EVER MAKE A MISTAKE AND OWN TO IT?!?

Thanks, I hate it.

 Oh and I almost forgot in all my rage about that storyline – when we first meet her, we learn that Yennefer apparently doesn’t “bother with the whalebone [i.e. corset] nonsense other women use” (literal quote from the book) so I guess her tits are magic???

This just in, if she needs boob support SHE’S A THOT, if your knockers don’t stand on their own you’re INFERIOR and NOT DESIRABLE, GTFO.

 2.3 Jaskier’s sexism (Netflix!Jaskier would never)

Jaskier, you have been done dirty.

It could have been so cool too - Jaskier in the books is witty and likeable and makes friends wherever he goes because everyone likes a bard?? Also he's really smart and knowledgeable because "a bard needs to know about many things" which is SO VALID??? And Geralt trusts him and cares about his opinion??? And also it's clear Jaskier likes Geralt, not just for the purpose of writing ballads about him, but because they're old friends, they've travelled together a lot - yes, their relationship is good here, regardless of your shipping preferences. (Also, he wears a hat with a large feather on it, which is how Geralt recognizes him in crowds, and it's amazing and hilarious.)

HOWEVER.

Jaskier treats women terribly. At his first introduction, he literally gropes a priestess (and then makes fun of the high priestess for chastising him for it). He sees women very much as objects to be… maybe not “won” but, well, persuaded, which makes him a tiny bit better than most of the other men, who are basically straight-up rapists. But then there's the scene with Yennefer which. Made everything turn sour tbh. It goes like this:

Yennefer wants to go after the dragon alone (see above), but before she can get Geralt to do it for her and double-cross everyone, she's overwhelmed by some of the other men in the party and they're all tied up (Jaskier, Geralt, some other pacifist sorcerer who is around, and Yennefer). And one of the men, who hates her for her (sexual) power, rips open her blouse and exposes her and assaults her while she screams, so then he gags her. And then when he’s done he walks away and leaves her exposed. Geralt looks away after she screams at him not to stare (wow, points for chivalry, the standard is literally So Low - also his justification for obeying her wishes is that he’s already seen her boobs so it’s not a big deal to him anymore) but Jaskier shamelessly stares at her even after she makes it absolutely clear she does not consent to ANY of this and has no choice because SHE IS TIED UP, and he even jokes that he'll write a ballad about her perfect breasts. And I'm over here like.... no. no, no, no, no, no. Jaskier deserved better characterization and Yennefer deserves a better fucking franchise.

 2.4 Female characters; Sexy Fantasy That Fucks (it’s bad)

I have touched a lot on this already so I'll try to be brief, but. Ugh.

Sexy Fantasy That Fucks™ is practically a legit genre and sadly a lot of semi-progressive fantasy falls into this category - where we have moved on from having only like one or two named female character (see: LotR) to having several, and look, they can even fight, but only as long as they're aggressively sexually attractive to men while they do it. Poor Harley Quinn suffered the same treatment in Suicide Squad - The Male Gaze Filter.

Here in the books it goes like this: Oh look, “vaguely tribal” women who fight - but they're also the most overtly sexual and involved in a canon off-screen orgy with Geralt and an older (practically old) man and are portrayed as Perpetually Horny. Oh look, Yennefer, a badass sorceress who falls apart when Geralt so much as looks her way because Geralt is so fucking great I guess. Then there’s the 14-year-old striga princess who needs to be described, once her curse is lifted, with emphasis to her “perky breasts”. SHE'S FOURTEEN. And there’s the young priestesses, who are subtly flattered by Jaskier's direct "advances" because, you know, they've dedicated their lives to serving a goddess but understandably they just WANT TO FUCK™.

There is a single female character who is not sexualized - the head priestess, Nenneke. She's described as fat and old (and wise though, throw her a bone). Geralt respects her because of her wisdom but that's it - she has a Use™. And also, he ignores her advice in the end anyway. Pity she wasn't more beautiful I guess. I am Sickened.

 2.5 Narrative devices and structure (it’s bad)

Now, we get to the bones of the thing. There's... one main thing that really bothers me and that's a CLASSIC - the fact that this author prefers to have action explained to the reader through monologues by characters that inexplicably have All The Information, rather than have us, you know, experience the action first hand. There are a couple of fight scenes of Geralt vs A Monster, sure, but that's all we get - everything else is told to us through monologues. (and yes it's still a monologue even if Geralt interrupts to say "go on" or "get to the point". It's not really a dialogue if the other person is only being expositioned at. Now Geralt just looks impatient and annoying.) Even the short story format (of the first two books) is explained this way: the individual short stories are monologues within conversations in the base timeline, explaining to the reader (and to Nenneke in the narrative proper) backstories and how characters met.

Which... it's a choice? It makes more sense than the show with it’s wack-ass timeline with absolutely no conext. But like. Why can't you have us at least discover the respective monster through someone else's POV though? I get that we're always staying with Geralt because Geralt is oh so great, but rather than have some Constable explain to him for like twelve pages how the princess (who is, without any intrigue, an incest-princess - this is not a mystery, everybody is aware of this at the beginning of the story and freely provides this information without prompting) became a striga and how many people she has killed and what people say she looks like and how to allegedly cure her - can’t we see that shit happen? Like... ok, thanks? I hate it. The show did this better.

 3. Bonus: why the audiobook grinds my gears

Last and definitely least - the audiobook is BAD (but I don't want to buy physical copies, and my library won't have the English version because I live in Germany, so I guess I'm stuck with it). The guy who reads it is Bad At Reading Out Loud because his emphasis/cadence is incredibly unnatural (also regrettably all the books are read by the same guy) and his pronunciation of names (most notably Jaskier, who is called Dandelion in the English version of the books) is inconsistent??? He started out by (correctly) calling him dandelion in book 1 and now has changed to pronouncing it dandelion, like the flower, which is not how you say his name (and... no offense if he’d started out that way because I, too, thought that was how you said it just from reading the word - but he says it CORRECTLY in the first book and then changes it to the wrong pronunciation in book two so I’m confused?? How does that happen?)

Also - different accents for different characters are only a good idea if a) you're good at accents and b) they aren't overtly connoted? Like. Don't give a guy in a fantasy setting a bad russian accent??? Also what part of Geralt as a character made you think SCOTTISH???? Oof.

And another thing - these little descriptors after direct speech? They MATTER.

"Don't touch me," Yennefer hissed

and

"Don't touch me," Yennefer screamed

are two very different sentences and should be read as such. You can't just. Say "Don't touch me" seductively and then add "she yelled". That's not how voice acting works. Please, pLEASE I'M SUFFERING. I was already struggling enough with some of the content of the books and now you’re making consuming them really difficult and irritating :’) Oof.

 In conclusion – I don’t even know. I was mad and now I’m tired.

  Anyway, all this to say – I didn’t hate every aspect of the books. I will keep reading (in my case listening) because I’m stupid, I apparently love to suffer and I am, thanks to the show, invested in the storyline and want to know what happens. But I will most certainly keep complaining about them because that’s the only way to make this fun for myself. And are you not entertained?!

Who knows. Maybe stuff will get better.

Take from this post what you will, and if it’s only my personal hypocrisy then that’s fine. I hope you had a nice day – I’m gonna go make myself some tea to calm down. And I’ll have you know that despite what you may have heard, I have never worn a bra in my life, because I’m not like other girls.

[sleepypeaky]

null

request: idk if you write non-relationship fics, but if you do - 167 on the big prompt list but it's tommy, arthur and john encouraging finn to LEAVE the peaky blinders and family business for a better, safer life for himself? instead of them trying to get him more involved, they prioritise his future and happiness. idk if that's kinda difficult/not interesting to write though so no pressure x

warnings: suicide mention, depression, death, alcohol, swearing, you know- peaky stuff. not really a happy ending

a/n: thank you so so so so much for this request! yes!  i moved the timeline a little because i had an idea so this is post john.  so this is set idk between seasons 4& mid 5??

---

"i never want it like that again.”

“She said ‘be a man.’

“and were you a man?”

“yeah. But then i apologized.”

--

“There’s an empty space here that needs to be filled. You understand? So,be a fucking man.”

Arthur arrived at Tommy’s shiny new parliament office at 12 noon. As per Tommy’s request that he be punctual. He was secretly concerned, though he didn’t know why.

Without knocking, he let himself in.

“Oi Tom. So what’s this meeting all about, yeah?”

Tommy took off his glasses and gently laid down his pen. A cigarette was smoking away in a standby in a crystal ashtray. He greeted his elder brother with the usual head nod, and gestured for him to take a seat.

Tommy cleared his throat,

“We have to talk about Finn.”

Arthur leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed, “Wha’ about ‘im?”

Tommy took in a deep breath of stale air. He leaned back in his chair,

“We need to let him go.”

~

Finn lay in bed.

He hadn’t moved in hours, hours that he had spent awake and locked in his own head. 

It was probably mid-morning already, but unseen forces kept his limbs from moving.

Shockingly, the twitches that signaled his body’s need for ‘snow’ hadn’t started up yet. Yet another thing that made staying in bed seem better than other options.

His mind echoed the same words over and over. The last words John had spoke to him.

~

Arthur and Tommy sat in silence as they waited for their youngest brother to arrive. 

They were sitting a normal distance apart, on the hard leather booth of the private garrison room. The rest of the pub was empty.

“Finn take a seat.” Tommy said, the usual lack of inflection in his voice.

Finn looked at them skeptically, was this an intervention? a reprimanding? He couldnt handle either right now. Nevertheless, he sat down in the chair and waited for whatever was coming.

“So Finn,” Tommy started “The family has come to a decision. We have seen how this life has shaped you. And we all feel like it’s time you went out and made a safer, more peaceful life for yourself. You’ve suffered through enough.”

Tommy finished and looked encouragingly at his brother.

Finn furrowed his brow and took a few seconds to make sure he heard everything right. Then he spoke.

“So i’m out, just like that. You think it’s that easy?”

Tommy sat further into the booth, 

“Theres no one standing in your way finn. Why shouldnt it be? We all want the best for you.”

Finn inhaled a hot breath, his eyes began to burn.

“I have nightmares, Tom. ‘You know that? I have nightmares about the things i’ve had to do.”

Arthur interjected,

“Tha’s just it Finn. We want you to ‘ave a better life. A new life.” He smiled at this decree, satisfied with his newfound generosity.

Finn jumped to his feat and slammed his hands on the table. He grabbed a now shivering glass and smashed it on the floor with a shriek of rage and sadness.

“THATS NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH!”

Arthur’s smile faded.

Finn pointed at tommy and arthur with unbridled fury, his finger shaking violently.

“HOW CAN I START OVER WITH WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME!?” He cried, “Look what you’ve turned me into.” He hissed and shook as the anger simmered to exhaustive, emotional fatigue.

“And....”

His voice began to brake, the tremors made way to fissures in his livid façade.

“A-and i miss him so fucking much.” He sobbed, still stood before his brothers as they watched him unfurl.

“I miss him so fucking much and you pretend like i’m the only one.”

He slowly found himself once again seated at the table. His limbs too weak to hold him up any longer.

“Am i the only one in this family who allows themself to fucking feel? Because i’m bleeding inside and i feel so fucking alone. So fucking alone because he was the only one who ever showed he gave a damn about me.”

Tommy and Arthur stayed silent. Tommy impassive. Arthur in a trance.

“No wonder you both want to kill yourselves.” He spat. “This is a miserable existence. This family is a plague, but everyone is so fucked in the head they don’t even know. At least Ada got away. At least Michael had time to develop before he came. I was fucking raised in this. Raised and kept alive by men who don’t even know how to do the same for themselves.”

He balanced himself on the table as he stood up and walked to the door. Before exiting, he turned and looked back.

“And do you know what the saddest thing is? You pretended to keep me out of it for so long, but without actually doing it. You just made sure to say enough about keeping me safe to let yourselves be able to sleep at night. And then you would leave me here, alone. And then suddenly, you dropped the act! John got shot and you treated it like a ticket for a seat in the family opened up. Michael, Isiah, Bonnie. They had seats waiting for them.”

His lip quivered.

“So tell me, why did i need a ticket?”

And with that, he turned the brass knob and left.

~

John held the phone up to his ear, swirling a glass of whiskey in his other hand.

“...Merry Christmas Finny. Now go to sleep before Saint Nick kicks down your door.”

Finn rolled his eyes, which John could practically hear over the phone.

“Yeah, ok John. Merry Christmas to you too.”

Before he hung up he heard,

“Wait!”

He brought the phone back to his ear,

“What?”

John sighed. 

“I love you Finn. Always know that. And always know you have nothing to prove, nothing to prove to no one.”

Finn smiled, he put the phone back on its stand and turned off the light.

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩

☾ ✧ ☾

☾ ✧

☾

[gold-from-straw]

Backstage of the Universe - ch7

TW for panic attack from the very beginning of this fic, including references to past child abuse - hence the early cut on this chapter! However I do hope you enjoy it, because it’s my favourite so far ^_^ in which Erik talks Charles down and is generally way more amazing than he thinks he is.

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer!

Erik had barely a moment between realising that Charles was panicking, and being hit by the wave of panicked projection. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest, trying, failing to get enough oxygen, he was going to die, he was--

“No,” said Erik firmly, pressing his fist into the plush carpet and twisting, grounding himself in the sensation. He pushed himself up, stumbled forwards, shoving the box of papers onto the ground and squeezing Charles’ biceps. “Charles! Charles, listen to me, you’re not dying, but you need to focus!”

Charles whimpered, and Erik’s heart ached. He couldn’t do this! He should get Raven, get someone, anyone, who was softer, who could give care to someone in this state. Svlad was crying, curled up on the floor, and Erik couldn’t help both of them - he probably couldn’t help either one. Erik would surely only make it worse. He was shattered glass and broken edges, people cut themselves on his presence and that’s how he liked it. He couldn’t even manage to keep from hurting those he cared about. He was not kind.

“OK, Charles, it’s OK, let me go get Raven, I’ll just--”

Please please sorry sorry don’t deserve anything good just a piece of shit a bad boy never try hard enough why won’t you try harder just work harder you disappoint me Charles you pathetic piece of crap pathetic--

Erik dropped to his knees, pressing closer, all thoughts of leaving him trampled. He cupped Charles’ face in both hands and rested his forehead against Charles’. “No, Charles, you’re not, you’re not, do you hear me? You’re the strongest man I know.”

Fucking useless child won’t try hard enough I know he can reach further than this but we’ve plateaued disappointed no no I’m sorry I can do it I can be better--

Erik closed his eyes and imagined pulling Charles into his mind. As sharp-edged and utilitarian a landscape as his mind probably was, he would at least have more control. He hoped. He had a sharp spike of panic, of I have no idea what I’m doing, but pushed it back ruthlessly. This was not the time for doubt. “Come on, Charles, come into my mind, look, I’m inviting you… you can… can hide here, if you want?”

--leave me he’ll leave again and they all leave and it’s only right I deserve that I deserve to be alone when I’ll only turn into them into a monster broken keep making the wrong choices--

“No, Charles, listen to me,” Erik babbled, words pouring from his lips or from his mind, he wasn’t sure which. “Come closer, focus on my voice, focus on my thoughts alone. Here, I’ll keep you safe here, come into my mind. I’ll keep you safe. You’re safe now.”

There was a hush, and a popping sound, and dead silence. Erik sat on the bare floor and cradled Charles’ small body in his arms, resting on his lap. He rocked, and rocked, and Charles sobbed against his chest, his shoulders shaking as he poured out all his grief. Erik closed his eyes and kissed the soft brown hair, breathing in deeply in relief.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Charles whispered, wiping his face.

“Shh, none of that,” Erik said stiffly, but he still laid another kiss on him and stroked his back.

Charles hunched his back and hid his face in Erik’s shirt. “No, I’m so sorry. God, that was just pathetic, I’m…”

“You are not pathetic, Charles,” Erik clipped. “You were spiralling, caught up in memories. It happens.”

“Not to you.”

Erik hesitated. “Not anymore.” He stroked his hand down Charles’ back, fingers bumping over his vertebrae. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.

“Tell you what?”

“That you had been treated that way. That you’d been tortured in the name of science, just like me. Like those children.”

Charles scoffed. “What they did to me was nothing, Erik. It’s pathetic that I can’t handle memories of a few rough words, and if you think that I would dare to compare what I went through to your… your…”

“You are not pathetic,” he repeated sharply.

“I am,” said Charles, defiant and grieving at the same time. “I am pathetic. I can’t cope with these little hardships--” he paused and before them a memory appeared. Erik staring up at Xavier Manor, Charles at his side and the children behind them. Honestly, Charles, I don’t know how you survived, living in such hardship.

“Charles, I--”

“Do you know what I thought then?” Charles asked, looking at the memory in front of them, at the two men they had been. “I wanted to argue, I wanted to say it had been hateful, and then I remembered that every single one of the people around me had suffered so much more than me, and I felt so guilty at my disgusting privilege. How pathetic - how dare I feel hurt at my memories, poor little rich boy, when my hardships were nothing - nothing at all. Next to yours they were the buzzing of a fly, and yet there you were. The strongest man I’d ever met.”

Erik gently turned Charles’ face away from the memory. “Do you think so poorly of me? Of all of us?”

“What? No, of course--”

“Do you think that just because I’ve been through something you judge to be worse, that I have no room in my heart for compassion for you?”

Charles ducked his head, and behind him Erik caught a glimpse of a different memory, of Erik staring Charles down in the plane to Paris and blaming him for their people’s death. Erik frowned and looked away. “I’m an idiot, Charles. You already know this.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said again, looking back up at the memory, playing on a loop. All the names of the dead. “I should have been stronger. I’ve always been so weak.”

“Bullshit,” Erik said sharply, and bit his tongue. This was why he should have called Raven. He took a deep breath and tried again, holding Charles’ gaze, even though it burned him, like it always did. The depth of his sincerity and hope. “You’re strong in ways I’ll never know, Charles. Strong enough to hold a group of foolish, traumatised children together and defeat a monster. Strong enough to keep trying, when the world kept wanting to push you down. Strong enough to get up every morning and face the day with kindness and faith and so much compassion it hurts to look at. And you are strong enough to deal with this, too.”

Charles’ eyes drifted shut, and suddenly he looked exhausted. “I wish I could stay here,” he said. “Where are we?”

Erik looked around, and laughed. “My mother’s kitchen,” he said. “I would sit under the table, out of the way while she cooked, play and listen to her sing.” He smiled out in wonder. “I’d forgotten about this place.”

“And you brought me here,” said Charles softly, looking up at Erik in wonder, and something else, memories appearing of chess matches by the fireside, legs stretched out in front of them, long nights and arguments. Charles blushed when he saw them projected there, and they faded to mist.

“Are you ready to go back?” Erik asked. “I don’t know how long we’ve been gone, but I think you were projecting your panic attack to half of the state.”

“Oh God,” Charles said, eyes widening in horror. “Oh no, the children!”

They appeared back in the darkened room, Erik’s head spinning with the sudden change. “Svlad,” Charles called softly. “Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry about that, I really…” Charles sniffed suddenly and wiped his face. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

The little boy uncurled from the floor, peering up at him with wide, scared eyes. Erik held out a hand for him, and just like that, he stumbled forwards, wrapping his arms around Charles’ waist and pressing his face into his chest, as Erik petted his back.

“Oh, sweetheart, you poor little thing, I’m so sorry. No, no, of course I’m not angry with you at all, I was afraid, and… and sad, but I didn’t want to make you feel like it was your fault.” He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. “God, I just keep… messing it up with you. I’m sorry, Svlad.”

“Dirk,” he said softly.

“Pardon?” said Charles, looking down.

“I… I prefer to be called Dirk Gently,” he said, shooting a look at Erik, then back up at Charles. “If you don’t…”

“Dirk,” said Charles, smiling and stroking his hair. “Of course. We’ll all call you that from now on.”

***

The sky was dark, now. All the children were in their beds, exhausted after the enforced panic attack. The rest of the household walked quietly around, avoiding each other’s eyes, awkward with Charles, and it all made Erik want to bash their heads together. None of this was helping in his campaign to stop Charles calling himself pathetic.

Charles looked up at him as they made their way back to the study after saying goodnight to Dirk. “Thank you, my friend,” he said softly.

Erik smirked at him. Because he’d never been able to do soft and compassionate and nice in his life. “It made a bit of a change for me,” he said. “Saving you for once.”

Charles stopped, his mouth falling open. Erik took one, two more steps before he realised, and turned. “How can you not know?” Charles asked.

“Know what?” Erik said, retracing his steps, his hands still in his pockets.

“You saved me so many times, Erik,” he said, ocean blue eyes staring up at him in that way that he could never handle, the endless depths of hope and something. “All those times before Cuba, every time I thought I was making a terrible decision, when every step I took felt like the stupidest idea I’d ever had, you were right there next to me, and you believed in me with such conviction I could feel it in my bones.”

Erik frowned. “You doubted yourself? You, the cocky little brat of a professor, you doubted--”

“I doubt every word out of my own mouth,” Charles said, his lip curling in bitterness. “Did you really not know?”

“How could I?” Erik laughed softly. “I’m not the mind reader.”

“But I… I thought I was obvious. I thought everyone could see right through me, so many people did… their thoughts were always so… but you. You never stopped… you had so much faith in me. It was dizzying. I’ve never felt so strong as when you looked at me.”

Erik took one more step towards him, the moment hanging between them like crystal. He looked down at the watery blue eyes, the tears so quick to come still.

“You saved me so many times,” Charles said again, almost in a whisper.

Erik dropped to his knees in front of Charles, his hand coming up to cup his cheek. “I’m looking at you now,” he said.

Charles took a shuddering breath. “I know,” he said. “It’s terrifying. And… and wonderful.”

Slowly, Erik closed the distance between them, his thumb brushing the tears away from Charles’ cheek, and kissed him.

Tagging everyone who interacted with last chapter - thank you so much! @thewritersspeaking, @slytherclaw134689, @akasanata, @iwillshipyouman and @stuckinlight