#Fragments just put into all of the family now.. And I want to put it together!

[janebonbon]

I'm not sure how many people can relate, but it is so funny reconnecting with your culture after so much has been Americanized. It is so funny how even though I never got the chance to meet the family that lived there, pieces of it still live on.

Of course learning language also means learning culture, it's hand in hand. But I look at customs and even just social norms that have lived on and make us odd individuals to the rest of where I live. I still remember going with my mother to deliver home baked cookies to our new neighbors as a welcoming gift and introducing ourselves... And people hardly even gave us the time of day! I remember how shocked we both were, because we were taught that way too. Even at parties with my mom's friends, bringing some kind of gift or extra food (other than the food we were asked to bring).

Isn't it funny and beautiful how those things persist? I think about that a lot.

[arolesbianism]

Hello looks to the moon fans. I am gently placing drowning act by friends unseen into your hands 👍

[merletka]

Collaborated with amazing writer @alexcors and illustrated her fanfic about Damian Wayne. You can read it bellow! 💚

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

– Concussion, multiple beatings, fracture of the collarbone, two ribs and the radius of the right arm, with multiple fragments. Do you have anything to say to that, Robin?

– This dealer raised his hand himself, covering his worthless face. What?

– You beat the suspect to a pulp! Batman barked at his son. – No patrols until Cantelli is transferred from the intensive care unit to the general ward.

– But…

– That's all.

Damian clenched his teeth, but at the last moment decided not to fight with his father over a small dealer. Cantelli wasn't worth it. And therefore, having drowned himself, the boy just fell asleep.

***

The morning began with the usual five o'clock wake-up, a workout with pruning the squalid park art that Damian disapproved of in his garden. And he was already tired of explaining to Pennyworth that the enemy could be hiding behind large figures! Then a walk with Titus on a leash, Alfred the cat on his shoulder (because the mustachioed one did not want to wake up in any way) and a red-haired squeaking lump in his hands.

The kitten was dragged by a Red Hood a couple of days ago, startling Damian at first by pronouncing his full name without hesitation (few people in the family could pronounce Hafid ibn Ksufash Dami al Ghul even from the third time), and then by an attack of compassion for the animal. However, the boy quickly recovered from the shock, named the red kitten Roy Harper and now did not miss the opportunity to tease brother with the phrase "You gave me your accomplice, Todd."

By eight in the morning, Damian had time to check on the bat cow, comb Goliath, lose the nimble red Harper and find him sleeping peacefully in the cowshed. In general, Batman's heir successfully redid all his affairs, even phoned each Teen Titan individually and gave valuable instructions. On little things like different time zones, young Wayne habitually waved his hand, and everyone also grabbed a moral slap on the back of the head for trying to be indignant:

– Do it, Beast!

– Buzz me here again, Bug!

– The aliens were not given a word.

– Witch!

Damian belatedly realized that arguing with Raven was not worth it, because the importance of portals to any part of the world is difficult to overestimate. Fortunately, he knew about the weakness of every member of his team, and in Raven's case, it was sweets. Especially his sweets, with honey and spicy notes, which the girl fell in love with from the first bite. He will have to share again… She's definitely a witch!

At nine o'clock sharp, Pennyworth served breakfast, with tea in fine china, brown sugar, a slice of lemon and... an envelope?

- You have received an invitation, Master Damian.

- It's not interesting, - the boy muttered, finished with the meal and dryly told him not to disturb him. He was going to decide the fate of the world here, and they came with some kind of invitations!

However, the plan to destroy all (crossed out) almost all people did not come to mind, but the world itself lay perfectly on paper with watercolor paints, fortunately the view from the window was conducive to this. Up to a certain point.

– Todd!

- Hello to you too, Gremlin, - the Red Hood replied, climbing into his brother's bedroom through the window, while unsuccessfully clinging to the tulle with the toe of his boot.

- Pennyworth will bury you for this.

– Yes, yes, and will plant roses from above. Not that I mind much, but that's not the point right now. Get ready to go out.

Damian took a deep breath and unleashed his entire supply of Arabic obscenities on his brother, knowing full well that Jason would understand him. Unfortunately, the pressure of the negativity did not take him back out the window, he had to take up a katana.

– Put the skewer down, shorty, the meat has just been sent to marinate.

– Will you leave on your own or will you be thrown out in parts?!

– Shut up and listen to me, - Todd barked, casually showing off his pistols with the safety off. – In short, Alfie organizes a family get-together, with meat and without a fight. Dad promised to be, I'll bring a replacement, the Gotham crime storm in a thong will come running himself. You got the simplest thing – to lift your little ass off the chair and walk to the place. You can take the menagerie with you.

- I'm not going to any gatherings with my father," Damian muttered, but he put away his saber. – So you can get out and report your failed mission. I'm not leaving my room today, basically!

- No questions,– Jason agreed surprisingly easily. - But if you walk out the door, you're going to hang out with everyone, okay?

– Tt.

–That's settled,– Jason grinned, ducked out the window and disappeared.

Damian managed to exhale with relief, when suddenly something buzzing flew over the windowsill. Titus reacted first, barking loudly at the wasp's nest rolling on the floor!

- You're dead, Todd! - Damian yelled, unceremoniously grabbing the cat and rushing out the door with him and the dog.

***

- No corpses,– Grayson repeated calmly but firmly (for the fifth time!).

- I'll beat him up so that no Lazarus Pit will help, - the boy grumbled into the phone, the call to which stopped him from righteous revenge.

– Alfred said it clearly, without a fight. Let's get together with the whole family, have a nice time, have a delicious meal.

– Tt.

– We have chosen a picturesque place by the lake, you will like it.

–Okay, - the Batman heir finally gave up. – But only because painting was part of my plans today.

– It's wonderful, – judging by the sound, Dick broke into his trademark smile. – You will draw a beautiful landscape.

– I'll paint it! Artists paint with paints, you idiot.

– And I love you, little brother.

– Tt.

Author: @alexcors

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly. 

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly. 

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly. 

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire. 

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings. 

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously. 

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation. 

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is. 

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category. 

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines. 

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness. 

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly. 

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information. 

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously. 

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls. 

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed. 

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right. 

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit. 

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table. 

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family." 

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically. 

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture. 

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards. 

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark. 

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou. 

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed. 

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back. 

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family. 

[bread--quest]

It's 2012 somewhere. Welcome.... to Night Vale Tumblr.

👁️ nvcr-official

Hi guys! I'm Intern Sarah! Excited to be joining you all!

👁️ nvcr-official

To the friends and family of Intern Sarah, she was a good intern and social media manager, and we are sorry to see her go. We will work to find a new intern as soon as possible.

83 notes

🦉 dark-owl-records

CALL OUT POST FOR CECIL PALMER

hes gotten away with shit for too long and im sick of it. tl;dr horrific intern mistreatment with no compensation, mountain denier, homophobic

keep reading

❌ number-one-moonhater Follow

Hey uh. Aren't you a company account? Why are you posting this

🦉 dark-owl-records

L + ratio + god forbid women do anything + your music taste is trash

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

Isn't Cecil literally gay?

🦉 dark-owl-records

he's homophobic

🪼 jeebyfish Follow

he has a husband...

🦉 dark-owl-records

yeah and he won't fucking shut up about it

2,500 notes

🤫 cecils-private-blog

Carlos hasn't liked any of my woodcarving posts in THREE DAYS!! I'm so scared what if he's going to break up with me :((

👁️ nvcr-official

Cecil he's your husband he's not breaking up with you. also this isn't a private blog you just put private in the url

🤫 cecils-private-blog

HOW DID YOU SEE THIS

4 notes

🏜️ sandeater Follow

tamika flynn spotted in ralph's dairy aisle "slaying" the milk

🦂 scorpiansscuttle Follow

op i know this is a joke but one time i was in the ralphs dairy aisle and there was some butter up on a really high shelf and someone said "don't worry, i'll get it" and i turned around and it was fucking tamika flynn

☁️ average-weather-enjoyer Follow

fake story :/

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

No it's true I was there

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

TAMIKA FLYNN??

🏜️ sandeater Follow

what the fuck is happening on my post

8,345 notes

👁️ nvcr-official

can you guys please stop sending cecil weird shit... i don't want to have to explain to my boss what a dilf is

27 notes

🐚 mariella-shella

Hey guys!! Sorry for the lack of posts recently! I entered a hole in the wall and when I got out I realized I didn't know how long I'd been in there, or where I was, or who I am, and I'm not sure that I'm still the person who entered that hole however long ago. Anyway, the normal posting schedule will resume as soon as I remember what my normal posting schedule was, and if I'm still the person who had that posting schedule!

🌪️ sandstorm-gf Follow

omg mariella!!! missed u so much girl glad ur back!

🐚 mariella-shella

i miss me too

42 notes

😎 Anonymous asked: Response to the homophobic allegations?

🎙️ cecilpalmer

Huh??

🎙️ cecilpalmer

@nvcr-official What does this mean? Is it new slang?

👁️ nvcr-official

uhhhh dont worry about it buddy

50 notes

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

hey guys im in quarantine for eating wheat and wheat byproducts uh...send asks?? i might be in here for a while lmaooo

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

oh lights in the sky its been 5 years since i made this post

☁️ glowcloudapologist Follow

how's it going op

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

i miss my family

506 notes

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

hey if anyone remembers anything about the person running this blog can you tell me? trying to recover the fragments of my identity from the void of memory lol

🥔 potato-enthusiast Follow

you were really hot

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

FUCK YEAHHHHHH

89 notes

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just a reminder that new residents of east night vale are fully welcome to interact with this blog!!!! you will not be harassed and any hate will be blocked. this blog is safe even if this town isn't sometimes <3

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

This is so sweet, thank you so much! Just so you know, even though it's officially called East Night Vale now, a lot of people still call it Desert Bluffs! Just thought you might want to know :)

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

i'm not calling it that sorry

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

What??? Why??

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just kind of sucks. as a name

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

?????????

170 notes

🐄

⬜️ kentuckymeatshower_deactivated11051983

what does this mean....

🌌 cece-xeze Follow

another great post from huntokar herself

16,683 notes

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

🌲 little-miss-ectoplasm Follow

you don't like pine cliff? 👻 oo ooo?

👁️ nvcr-official

NIGHT VALE SWEEEEEP

806 notes

😁 the-happy-smiler Follow

Hi everyone!! Since Twitter went down, I figured I'd try my hand at this Tumblr thing! I'm so excited to meet all of you!! Hope you're ready for some pictures of CENTIPEDES!! Feel free to AMA about the Smiling God!

👁️ nvcr-official

I

🦉 dark-owl-records

N

🎙️ cecilpalmer

T

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

E

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

R

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

L

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

O

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P

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

E

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

R

21,983 notes

[heliads]

Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:

Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3

when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win

masterlist

You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.

You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.

That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.

This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.

You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.

It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.

Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.

Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.

You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.

A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”

You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”

Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.” 

As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”

“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.

It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”

His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”

His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”

Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”

He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.

You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.

“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”

You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.

“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”

Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.

Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.

Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.

Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.

He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.

Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.

Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”

You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”

He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”

You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”

Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more. 

Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.

It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.

So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself. 

The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.

He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”

Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“You had better not,” you grumble.

He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”

You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”

Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”

He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.

Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.

He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.

You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.

“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”

Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”

You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”

He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”

You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”

He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.

“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.

Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”

“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”

Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”

Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.

You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.

narnia tag list: empty for now!

[lazycats-stuff]

You the oneshot where the reader didn't have a choice until batfam rescued him . I kinda want to see the batfam reactions to the thighs he didn't get to experience like chocolate, cartoons and a birthday that shocked them the most and what's even worse is that readers handler just sends him to a very difficult mission like a deserted island to fend for himself on his birthday which reader didn't know about

Aww, some family fluff... You got it my dear anon. Also, the request season has started.

Summary: (Y/N) told his family about his lack of experience with usual stuff. Even more with his birthday. Absolutely no one is having it.

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2, PART 3,

Warnings: Fluff, family wants to kill someone, mentions of missions from (Y/N)'s past.

After saving (Y/N) from his handler, it was obvious that he didn't... Indulge in certain things as any normal kids would. Sure, Damian didn't too, considering his upbringing, but (Y/N) was on a whole another level of not knowing anything.

It started with chocolate. Alfred has made some chocolate cake out of nowhere and he called the others down to eat if they wanted too. Of course, everyone would do so. I mean, who wouldn't want to try Alfred's delicious creations?

Everyone jumped at the news, basically pushing each others out of the way. (Y/N) didn't understand why they would do it. It's just food. He walked in confused, sitting down. He frowned at the sight of a chocolate cake.

" What's wrong (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, digging into the sugary delight.

" I never had anything with chocolate before. I wasn't allowed to have sugar. " (Y/N) confessed and Jason nearly choked on his piece.

" No. " Jason said, in complete and utter disbelief. Everyone glanced at (Y/N), also shocked that he has never had sugar. Of any kind probably.

" How about you try it? " Bruce prompted and Alfred put a chocolate cake in front of (Y/N). He took a fork and put it in his mouth and everyone saw how gingerly he tried it.

It seemed he liked it by the way his eyes widened and the way he relaxed.

" Do you like it? " Bruce asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

" I think I would like a second slice. " (Y/N) admitted and Alfred smiled widely. It's a win and progress. (Y/N) is never the one to voice what he wants and making him explicitly say what he wants is like pulling teeth.

" Of course master (Y/N), but I'm afraid you can't have more than two per day. " Alfred said, already putting some rules down.

" Okay. " (Y/N) said. Bruce decided to put some rules down because rules are all he knows. But they were very relaxed rules. Such as at least 8 hours of sleep, some exercise and a healthy amount of vegetables.

(Y/N) is kind of afraid of Alfred. He saw that Alfred is the one to not mess with and he respected it.

(Y/N) stayed silent as he ate. Bruce already a mental note to buy more sweets for (Y/N) to try.

After the whole cake fiasco, everyone decided to help (Y/N) experience some actual fragments of childhood. So what do they decide to do?

Cartoon marathon.

Jason wanted to watch South Park because he knows (Y/N) will love it. It's pure satire and Jason loved it. Whenever he could catch some free time, he would watch it and it would take a national emergency to stop.

And that's why Jason is leading (Y/N) to the living room.

" What is South Park even? " (Y/N) asked as he entered the living room, quickly moving to his spot.

" One of the best cartoons ever made. " Jason simply said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" It's pure satire. " Dick elaborated and (Y/N) nodded in understanding. (Y/N) liked satire. He considered himself to be a sarcastic person, more so now when he lived with the Waynes. Damian and (Y/N) just communicated via sarcasm and it was fun.

They started from the first episode and (Y/N) chuckled quietly. Everyone turned their heads. Holy shit. It's a beautiful sound too, coming from (Y/N). When they make him laugh properly, they are going to commemorate it once it happens.

" What? " (Y/N) asked, looking at the all.

" You have an adorable laugh. " Jason explained and (Y/N) turned his head away. He didn't want them to see his blush. Nobody has ever told him that. There was never any type of affection from his handler. If he got a 'good job', he could consider it the best praise.

After months of digging, Bruce found (Y/N)'s birthday. Bruce is definitely going to brag about this for the years to come. And he found out just in time. It's going to be in a few days and they wanted to surprise (Y/N).

(Y/N) is observant by nature and keeping this surprise as a secret is not an easy feat. Bruce could see that (Y/N) was already suspicious, especially with the way everyone brushes him off with the exact same excuses and some times they distract him with sparring, cases and all in all just stupid things.

Alfred made a chocolate cake, now (Y/N)'s favorite and the others got him some things that they thought that (Y/N) would like. Jason had a major task of bringing (Y/N) to the dining room.

They all waited with the stuff, knowing that (Y/N) wouldn't like sudden surprise and sudden noise. (Y/N) stopped as he took in the sight of a cake with candles on them.

" Happy birthday. " Bruce said, with a smile on his face.

" What? " (Y/N) asked quietly and their faces fell.

" You never had a birthday before? " Dick asked, feeling sad for (Y/N).

" Not really. I was usually sent on missions during that time. The last one was spent on a deserted island. " (Y/N) said, shuddering at the mere memory of the mission. Bruce walked towards (Y/N) and brought him into his own embrace.

" From now on, we are going to replace all of those memories with some more precious ones. Okay? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) felt something warm in his core. Something that he has never felt before.

Everyone agreed with Bruce, joining in on the hug. (Y/N) never liked to be touched, but he has grown to like it with the others. They weren't abrasive with it and Dick was the most touchy one, he understood his boundaries.

" Can I eat the cake now? " (Y/N) asked, squished in between all of them. Everyone chuckled at the suggestion and let go of (Y/N). The celebration went by without a hitch and it was filled with smiles, even from members who don't smile to much.

[buckyalpine]

Fic idea - Bucky’s family & time travel

You know how I keep proposing ideas, then adding it to my wips and then I stare at it while it stares at me. Heres another. I'm so sorry. Swear this will end in fluff, you'll just suffer in between. So imagine the most angstiest angst where Bucky gets married and has a child with his sweetheart before he’s sent to war. He's loved her his whole life and now they have a little one together; nothing could be more perfect. He promises he'll be back safe and sound with a kiss to her forehead and plenty of kisses for his baby girl.

Until Hydra captures him and turns him into the Winter Soldier. His first mission is to eliminate any familial ties. He doesn't feel anything when he pulls the trigger. He's successful and carries out hundreds of others kills, each searing itself in some part of his brain but he's constantly wiped before he can piece anything together.

But then he's rescued and he has to pick up the broken fragments of his memories and its too much of a fog for him to understand. At the very least he has his best friend by his side again and he's slowly starting to remember.

His first question is about his sweet y/n and his little girl.

His happiness is short-lived when Steve doesn't say anything. Bucky doesn't understand why he avoids his gaze, why he suddenly looks so distraught. No amount of pleading or begging works, his best friend doesn't breathe a word, asking Bucky to please let things be.

To learn to live with the way things were.

He can't do that though. He needs answers. When the team is away on a mission, he find a way to get into his records that SHIELD kept on him, wondering if they ever had anything on file about his life before he was captured. Every single detail about who he was before the war to after is written with details and camera footage.

He doesn't move from where he's seated, a blank expression on his face while everyone returns. Steve approaches Bucky first, worried about why the soldier looked so pale as if he'd aged 10 years in the past 3 days.

"I killed them?" His broken whisper of a voice breaks Steve's heart when he sees the file Bucky was looking at, a picture of him, his little girl on his shoulders and wife all smiling at the camera. The sheet he's clutching onto has their names along with deceased written write across the sheet.

Bucky is inconsolable.

His dreams are no longer about others he has killed. He's flooded with memories of her; the soft ivory dress she wore on their wedding day, the baby pink lace she had on when he undressed her that same night, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh, the kicks of their baby, the sound of her happy squeals when he blew raspberries onto her chubby cheeks.

Those happy memories are quickly replaced with her pleading for him to remember. To just remember at least once.

Jamie, it's me, please, m'your y/n, Bucky, don't-

D-daddy?

Baby, go to your room-Bucky no-

Mama!

Please, not Bella, James, you love her baby, you love us- please remember me-

I-I love you

The pain of Bucky's cries are too much for anyone to handle. They're a different type of sadness. So much so, even Tony's starting to worry when he doesn't see Bucky for days on end. He begs to be put back in cyro, to have his memories wiped, to have his brain fried, anything to forget. He doesn't care about the pain, he just wants it all to end.

Imagine theres a mission that involves time travel. Steve and Sam stand on the platform, ready to enter the portal, setting their timers for a specific date in the past. When Sam catches Steve adding another date without telling him, he quietly adds it on his suit as well, piecing what the Captain plans on doing.

The mission takes a little longer than anticipated. Steve is surprised when Sam is beside him when he travels back to the 40's, the both of them now with a new mission in mind, alternating the future be damned. If they had a chance to give Bucky the life he deserved again, they would do it. Bucky doesn't ask for much. In fact he never asked for anything. He deserved this.

Imagine the shock everyone gets when the portal opens up at the compound and there are now 4 people on the platform. Steve, Sam, a woman and a little girl no older than 2. She's dressed in a simple dotted dress, still wearing an apron around her waist while her baby stays clinging around her, tucking her face into her mommas neck.

Imagine the way Bucky would collapse with her when he sees his family again, crying endlessly being able to hold his wife and child, something he thought he'd lost forever. Everyone gives the little family some privacy while he hugs and kisses them, cuddling them to his chest, still right on the lab floor. Explanations for everything can wait, right now he can't believe he has his angels back.

Imagine the way they'd fall asleep that night, sleeping in bed for once, now that he's reunited with his y/n and his Bella.

imagine the endless love he'd make to her while Bella spends time with her God Fathers, aka all the Avenger men.

Imagine she's pregnant soon after and they can continue being a family in the present, doing all the things they always dreamed of.

Anyway, just a thought.

[gardenschedule]

John not meaning what he says

You know, we all say a lot of things when we don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m probably doing it now, I don’t know what I say. You see, everybody takes you up on the words you said, and I’m just a guy that people ask all about things, and I blab off and some of it makes sense and some of it is bullshit and some of it’s lies and some of it is — God knows what I’m saying. I don’t know what I said about Maharishi, all I know is what we said about Apple, which was worse.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

“It’s sort of complicated but sometimes you say things, but it’s not really what you meant to say. If I say something to you and you hear it different from what I’ve said it, and you answer back and we’re not really getting down to it. I’m really talking like that you know. Like somebody says ‘do you want ice cream?’ and I’ll say no, and actually I meant yes. You find yourself saying the opposite of what you mean. This happens to me quite a lot. I speak a lot, but what I say is not always what I mean.“

John Lennon, 1973.

‘I was told recently by Yoko that one of the things that hurt John over the years was me going off and doing The Family Way,’ Paul says. The filmmaking Boulting brothers had approached him via George Martin. ‘I thought this was a great opportunity. We were all free to do stuff outside the Beatles and we’d each done various little things.’ When he mentioned it to John, Paul said, ‘He would have had his suit of armour on and said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Paul McCartney, c/o Ray Coleman, McCartney: Yesterday and Today. (1995)

But by the time I arrived, an agitated John was deeply involved indeed. More specifically, he was having a row with Paul and George Martin. “We’ve already done the concept album,” he argued, presumably referring to Pepper. “Why do we need to do another one?” “Look, John, we’re just trying to think symphonically,” George replied. “We’re trying to create a complete work out of song fragments.” John was derisive at first, saying, “You’re taking yourselves too seriously,” but when Paul invited him to contribute some compositions of his own to the medley, he seemed to capitulate. “Well, I might have one or two that could fit,” he said sheepishly. I exchanged glances with Paul. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: He’s just been waiting to be asked.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

SHEFF: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

PLAYBOY: "When you talk about working together on a single lyric like "We Can Work It Out,' it suggests that you and Paul worked a lot more closely than you've admitted in the past. Haven't you said that you wrote most of your songs separately, despite putting both of your names on them?" LENNON: "Yeah, I was lying. (laughs) It was when I felt resentful, so I felt that we did everything apart. But, actually, a lot of the songs we did eyeball to eyeball."

John Lennon, 1980

“No, no, no,” he answered and he meant it. “I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different. “When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life. (September 14th, 1974)

GEORGE: I remember the day when John did an interview with a certain magazine and said certain things, and then I remember the day when he disagreed with what he’d said, but the man who interviewed him denied him the right to change his mind and, even though it was two and a half years, later still went ahead and published something which John said he no longer agreed with himself on. Which means the dream was over, yet certain people wouldn’t allow him to have his dream... over. Nudge nudge wink wink, say no more. [inaudible] JOHN: In other words, imagine if somebody or if you accidentally bang your head and you shout, “Ow!” – that’s the end of it. [self-conscious; laughs] Right? GEORGE: And he said that too. JOHN: I mean, it doesn’t go on for the next five years, right? And we all did that.

December 21st, 1974 (New York)

INT: It seem that you did minimize a little bit, what the, what the effect was on the, value and lifestyle and all that. You said that there was almost nothing left of Beatles. JOHN: Well I get bitter too, you know. And uh, also it was always the insistence that the Beatles led something, you know. And if anything they were figureheads, you know. And, I put it more succinctly later on when I thought about it. When I said those statements A) I was bitter and upset; emotionally upset cause we just split up, you know. I call it a divorce right. But when I think about it, obviously…you know, I can change my mind.

John interviewed by Jean-François Vallée in April 1975.

Underground journalist Felix Dennis watched the session. ‘I remember Ringo getting more and more upset by this… I have a clear memory of him saying, “That’s enough, John.”’ Lennon and Ono competed to come up with the most insulting lines, Dennis said. ‘Some of it was absolutely puerile. Thank God a lot of it never actually got recorded because it was highly, highly personal, like a bunch of schoolboys standing in the lavatory making scatological jokes.’ ‘John would forgive himself, and expect Paul to forgive him,’ Derek Taylor recalled.

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Battle for the Soul of the Beatles. (2009)

I went through a period of trying to encourage Paul by writing and saying things that I thought would spur him on. But I think they were misunderstood. That's how "How Do You Sleep?" (on the "Imagine" album) was intended. Although I suppose it was a bit hard on him.

John Lennon Talks To Ray Connolly May 18th 1972 Radio Times

“At the moment he is cut off from the three of us. The last time I saw him was in December.” Asked whether he thought John Lennon’s recent unkind references to Paul on his “Imagine” album, had deepened the rift, George replied: “Maybe John felt like that about Paul at the time he was writing the song, but he doesn’t feel like that all the time. The song doesn’t represent what he really feels. It’s just John – people don’t really understand. “I think John’s record is great – though that track about Paul is a bit hard. But it’s only something felt at the time . . . ”

George Harrison, interviewed by Mike Hennessey for Record Mirror (October 16, 1971)

JOHN: (smiles) You know, I wasn’t really feeling that vicious at the time. But I was using my resentment toward Paul to create a song, let’s put it that way. He saw that it pointedly refers to him, and people kept hounding him about it. But, you know, there were a few digs on his album before mine. He’s so obscure other people didn’t notice them, but I heard them. I thought, Well, I’m not obscure, I just get right down to the nitty-gritty. So he’d done it his way and I did it mine. But as to the line you quoted, yeah, I think Paul died creatively, in a way.

John’s Playboy interview as published in the magazine’s January 1981 issue

He turned to me and told me that he had been equally vicious about Paul during the same period and that Paul had got it right when he had declared that the only person John was hurting with his vitriolic behavior was himself. It was not exactly an apology, more like an explanation.

Glyn Johns, Sound Man: A Life Recording Hits with the Rolling Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Eric Clapton, the Faces… (2014)

“I have to ask you, what was all that stuff in the telegraph about?... And he’s gone oh yeah, look, speak to Paul about that, I wasn’t in a good place mentally at the time. Just speak to Paul about it…. I thought it was a real cop out because he had hurt me, he’d said something unfair, and rather than just apologise, what he basically said was I’ve apologised to Paul, and Paul’s accepted my apology for for my behaviour in that period, the immediate aftermath of the Beatles, and therefore speak to him and he will explain to you why you should forgive me”.

I am the EggPod guest Sam Delaney talking about a Get Back screening Q&A with Glynn Johns

“I’m trying to be mad at you, but you’re so nice, it isn’t easy,” Glyn replied. Then he explained that he had been upset by John’s comments about him in the “Lennon Remembers” interviews. John had said that Let It Be, which had been re-mixed by Glyn, had wound up sounding awful, and Glyn, a true professional, had been very offended by John’s comments. John did not remember saying it at all and he was very embarrassed. He explained, “I had just done primal therapy. I was just lettin’ off steam. That interview was just a lot of anger.” Glyn stared at John. John’s words had hurt him, and he had never expected that John would not remember what he had said, nor had he perceived that the comments would be dismissed as “just lettin’ off steam.” Like everyone else, he believed everything the public John said and took him very seriously. John repeatedly apologised to Glyn, and eventually the matter was dropped.

Loving John

“John’s most influential interviews, interviews which people took as gospel truth, were for John occasions to blow off steam and then to forget what he had said.”

May Pang, The Lost Weekend

At the time, we at Apple weren’t feeling good anyway, because Apple had failed; and here was one of our friends telling everyone who reads Rolling Stone that we were bastards. In the end we had to say, ‘Well, we’re not.’ John later retracted some of it, and we became friends again. And I forgave him. He would forget he’d said it, and expect to be forgiven, as he always was.

Derek Taylor, interview w/ Peter Doggett for Record Collector. (August, 1988)

John had gone through a tremendous upheaval in his private life, and he was a very odd person at times; he wasn’t at all himself. There was the famous interview he did for Rolling Stone, which has been reprinted many times, in which he says many unfair and untrue things, slagged everybody off, including me. I took him to task over it later on, asking him, “Why did you say all those things? It wasn’t very nice.” He said, “Oh, I was just stoned out of my head.” That was his only apology, really. Unfortunately, that has become history now; it’s accepted as the Bible.”

George Martin, interview w/ Howard Massey for Musician. (February, 1999)

“If you look at interviews and stuff with John, from around about that time he was in Imagine [documentary] he kind of admits that he’s having problems with himself. So, well, the first thing you do when you’re having problems with yourself is you bitch about someone else. And the closest person was me…He had a real go at me. I personally think it was ‘cause he was trying to clear the decks for Yoko. He’s got a new love, he’s trying to say to her, “Look, baby, I love you. I hate those guys.” And I think—you also have to remember John was going through a lot of problems. And you know, as they say, people, when they’re going through problems, come out with that kind of stuff. You know that, we all know that. When you’re in a bad mood, the first thing you do is badmouth somebody else. You don’t want to badmouth yourself…Some of the times, he was having other sorts of problems…So—like most of what John said, I take it with a pinch of salt. I love him still. I don’t care what he said, you know. Even if he badmouths me, I still know that he was a great guy, and that he loved me.”

Paul McCartney

[bu-blegh-ost]

Let's analyze Captain Rose's final message (ep. 113 spoilers!!!)

I have transcribed the entire thing into my notes, and there are few parts that I believe give us some subtle hints to important lore bits. So let's take a look at these fragments, shall we?

"Even with the Emperor’s gracious accommodations, I can never feel at ease unless I’m sleeping on the sea. Tomorrow, we depart this beautiful country for one last ride."

Nothing that crazy here, but now we have a better grasp at the timeline. So this confirms, that the last place Black Rose Pirates have been to, before they departed for the final adventure led by Hendrix's map was Onowa Country, and judging by what comes next, the chest was also created and left there during that last stay.

"But…if you’re hearing this, it means we all died."

If you recall, Drey mentioned few episodes back, that thier final excursion was of little significance, barely worth remebering. But here Rose is, about to embark on it, his last adventure before he retires, and he believes that he's going to die. That they all are. Rose must have hidden the true importance of this adventure from the rest of his crew. He KNEW that it's very likely they are not coming back from it, he KNEW he is not actually retiring. So, the question is, did Rose truly meant to leave life at sea for his wife and children, or did he chose to retire cause he knew he was about to die and he needed an excuse, to tie all the loose ends before he goes without alarming anyone?

"Even so, freedom can look so different for the individual. Not every pirate’s gonna play fair. I’ve been prepping for this moment a long time. The day I’d be outmaneuvered."

Something happened to Rose before that. If you ask me, something must have been put on Rose. A spell? A deal perhaps? Something must have happened between Rose and Hendrix (I can't be sure it was him ofc, but I feel like it is pretty obvious at this point). The map he gave him was a final retirement gift. Whatever happened, Hendrix surely did or offered something that made Rose unable to refuse the last adventure. Rose was forced to open the Hole in the Sea. He was forced to attempt to free the Nameless Prince, and he knew, he is bringing his crew to possible death. He knew they may not make it out of the sea in time, before whatever he had to do takes effects, before the sea turns black. I don't believe he would do this if he could find another way. This line makes me feel like he was tricked, finally cornered by Hendrix. It would also make sense why Rose never listened to Finn's warnings when he told him abt Hendrix hiding his true arcane ability. It's possible he knew already. It's possible he was already chained by it.

"Now I fear, we’ll be remembered for something we didn’t do."

The hole in the sea. The one thing people always mention when Black Rose pirates are concerned. He was right. But it only proves, that Rose in this entire game was a tool. Just a person forced to do another's bidding, to be at the right place, at the right time. A sacrifice, but not a player. Niklaus told Chip it was Rose who opened the Hole in the Sea. And he was right, kinda. TECHNICALLY it was Rose. But he was not acting of his free will. He was forced to do it. And who made him? Well, probably the one person who knows that it was him.

"Anyways, I think I should have cared about how my friends would remember me. My family…"

A beautiful comparison between Chip and Rose. Rose sought fullfillment, legacy, Chip sought to recreate his childhood, but they both realised that what they always wanted in the end was family. Rose realized it too late, Chip did so on time. And he did manage to create a family he can feel content about, be proud of. Rose's story is a reminder for him, of how things could have ended.

"If my wife is still alive, tell her, tell our child, her child, I’m sorry."

Rose left Onowa knowing he will not retire. He knew he lied to his wife when he told her that he'll raise their child with her. Did he ever mean it? Did he know that he is doomed from the start, or was there a true intention of going back to her, before Hendrix came and his fate was sealed? Also, that makes me think that Reuben is not Rose's biological son. "OUR child" refers to the kid they had together, "HER child" might refer only to his wife's son, to Reuben. Still, he must have cared for him enough to decide that he also deserved apology.

"Thanks for coming to look for us. I knew you would.

Take care, Chip. "

I wonder if he actually knew. Could Hendrix promise him that Chip would be saved? He didn't seem to expect anyone else to make it, so it's possible that either Chip was supposed to play a special role in some way, or maybe he already did, or he was guaranteed to make it out alive regardless of the circumstances to make the journey he is on now. That could mean that Riptide Pirates were truly always destined to meet.

Okay, that will be most of my thoughts! Feel free to share yours!

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-five] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex, switchy minho

“Min, what if we get caught?” you whispered, panting in his ear. 

It was hard to think straight while sitting on his dick but fragments of worries still bounced around in the back of your mind, vague reminders that what you were doing was illegal. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of saint, but you weren’t trying to get yourself on a registered sex offender list- especially not in Hawai’i of all places. 

“We won’t,” he assured you, “anyone who sees us will just think we’re cuddling.”

“Anyone with common sense will know exactly what we’re doing,” you muttered back. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Minho held you still on top of him, fingers digging into your hips to stop you from moving. You didn’t answer right away.

“Baby?” he prompted, squeezing you tighter. 

The pet name startled you back into the present moment, making you stare down at Minho, blinking at him in surprise. He chuckled and freed one of his hands to rub your lower back under the hem of your shirt. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you confessed. “But if we get caught, I’m killing you.”

“If we get caught, my career is over,” he corrected, reminding you that there were more important things for him to worry about than yourself.

You always managed to forget that Minho was famous. Not even just famous, he was attached to the most popular boy group in the world. If he were to get in trouble for something like this it would make international news. And Minho’s parents would find out. Logically, you knew that his family finding out paled in comparison to the entire world finding out, but the first possibility was more daunting to you. Still, the idea of going viral for fucking one of BTS’s backup dancers on the beach was not something you wanted for yourself. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t then-” you said and started to lift yourself off of him. 

“I want to,” Minho assured you. “But I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because you’re worried about someone seeing. We can take this back to the car if you want, or the hotel, or we can be done for the night.”

You slumped forward, resting against his chest and letting him hold you. You didn’t want to cut it short but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully relax if you were thinking about every worst case scenario possible. 

“Can we go back to the hotel?”

He nodded. “Of course we can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, none of that. Don’t be sorry. I want you to be comfortable, yeah? The whole point of sex is to enjoy it.”

You nodded in agreement even though you still felt a little guilty. Minho stood and then helped you to your feet. He gathered up the blanket you’d been sitting on and shook it off. He handed you one side of the blanket and kept hold of the other so that you could fold it nicely. 

“Where’d you even get this from?” you asked. 

“What, the blanket?”

 “Yeah, have you been carrying that around in your luggage this whole time?”

“No, I took it from the couch in my hotel room.”

“Minho!”

“What? I’m going to put it back!”    “It’s all dirty now, though.”

“I’ll wash it,” he assured you. “There are a lot of laundromats around here. Now come on, let’s head back before it gets too late.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. “How do you know that? Do you keep a running tab of every laundromat you come across?”

He led you by the hand back up the beach to the pathway to the parking lot, turning his head ever so slightly when he answered you so that you could hear him. “No, I just pay attention.”

“Shocking.”

Minho turned away from you again but you could see him shaking his head. You assumed he was also rolling his eyes at you. 

He threw the blanket in the trunk once you reached the car, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t suppose you want to take the wheel this time?” he asked after you had already buckled your seat belt. “Since you do have an American driver’s license?”

You gave him a look. “Yeah, but it’s illegal for me to drive this car since I’m not listed on the rental paperwork as a driver.”

“You think we’ll get pulled over?”

“We might! I’m also not old enough, remember?”

He grinned as he put the car in reverse “I know. I was just kidding.”

“Rubbing it in my face again?”

“Of course.”

The drive back to the resort was comfortable. Minho pointed out every single laundromat you passed, even after you told him he’d made his point and didn’t have to keep doing so. You were the one to reach for his hand this time, threading your fingers between his without hesitation. He smiled to himself when you did that and squeezed your hand affectionately, something that did not go unnoticed by you. 

The spot in the hotel parking lot the two of you had left earlier was still open when you returned. Apparently, no one else liked to be out late, even on vacation. 

You let go of Minho’s hand to get out of the car and didn’t grab it again as you walked into the lobby. 

“Are you tired?” Minho asked once you reached the elevators. You knew the question he was actually asking was whether or not you were too tired to go upstairs with him. This was just his not-so-subtle way of asking. 

“I was tired when you dragged me out of bed but I’m too horny to sleep now.”

He grinned. “My room, then?”

“No, let’s fuck in my room,” you said sarcastically. “I’m sure your brother would love that.”

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you.”

The bell on the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and you shuffled in together. Minho placed a hand on the small of your back and leaned forward to press the button for the eleventh floor, settling back against the wall next to you once it lit up and started to ascend. 

He dropped his hand again when the elevator reached his floor. You missed the warmth instantly. You knew the little things like that shouldn’t hurt your feelings. You weren’t a couple. He was too recognizable to be seen with anyone and have it not cause a fuss. Still, you found yourself wishing things could be different. It stung, even though it shouldn’t.

Minho stopped in front of what you assumed to be his door and fished in his pocket for the room key. He waved the card in front of the sensor, the electronic lock blinking green on the first try.

The room was dark, but Minho turned the entryway light on so that you were able to see into the space. His room was nearly identical to you and Jisung’s. The only difference was that the bed was against the opposite wall.

“You’re not sharing with Felix this time?” you asked at the realization that there was only one bed instead of two. 

“Our parents wanted us to, but we were getting pretty sick of each other so we decided to split the cost of an extra room.”

“Uh-huh, and it had nothing to do with this?” You gestured in between the two of you to emphasize the ‘this’ you were referring to.

“No, no, not at all!” Minho insisted, hand to his heart. “I promise, I didn’t bring you out to the beach just so we could have sex. I didn’t expect for us to- I just wanted to talk.”

Your mind went back to the moment where Minho had seemed lost in thought, like he wanted to say something important and then decided against it at the last minute. Was that what he meant? Or were you reading too much into it?

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he continued, “I didn’t want you to think that.”

“Oh okay,” you said, mostly because you weren’t sure what else to say. “It’s not a big deal if that was why you wanted to go somewhere. It’s not like we really do anything other than hook up anyway.”

“Not because I don’t want to! It’s just, it’s not like we can do normal couple stuff.” 

“You’d... want to do that with me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Instead of choosing to address that, you pivoted. “Um, do you mind if I rinse off before we do anything else?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He stood there staring at you with a look of concern on his face, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tried to discern your sudden change in mood. “No, of course I don’t mind. But... are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook him off and lied. “No. I just feel gross from the beach. Did you want to join me or not?”

He hesitated again and you could tell he wanted to press further but refrained. “Yeah, of course I want to join you.”

You undressed together in relative silence as you waited for the water to warm up. The mood was definitely different but you hoped you hadn’t completely killed it. 

You could feel Minho’s gaze on you, could feel questions lingering in the air between you, but again he didn’t push. 

You turned around and kissed him to make up for it and he relaxed a little. He let you distract him all too willingly, stumbling into the shower after you with his eyes still closed. 

You pressed Minho up against the tile wall and he moaned into your mouth. He was already hard again, you could feel his dick twitching against your stomach. You reached in between your bodies and took him in your hand, stroking him slower than you knew he liked. It was better than nothing but nowhere near enough and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting into your palm, fucking your fist like it was a toy. You teased him a little, drawing your hand out of reach every now and then just to watch him pout. You couldn’t help yourself. It was payback for all of the times he had teased you and the desperate sounds he made every time you threatened to stop were turning you on more than you would have liked to admit. 

Minho let you think you were in control until he flipped it on you, literally. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed your wrists and spun you around so that you were the one up against the shower wall. Your back hit the tile hard and you scowled in annoyance.  

“What’s that look for?” Minho asked, hiking your thigh up onto his waist. 

“You couldn’t just let me be in charge for once?” 

He laughed. “I thought you liked it like this.”

You sigh. “I do, it’s just... I was having fun.”

“I could tell,” he mused. “You had this evil little smile on your face while you were jerking me off. It was pretty cute.”

“How could you tell? You had your eyes closed the whole time.”

“That’s not true, I had them like this-” he pauses to squint, “some of the time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I did!”

“Can you just fuck me already? I’m tired of you.”

-

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, glaring at Jisung as he rifled through the items on the rack.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. 

The boys were going golfing, and being the good fake girlfriend you were, you had no other choice but to tag along. You wouldn’t be playing, thank god, but you had to cheer Jisung on, and apparently had to dress the part to do so. You didn’t have anything suitable for the golf course so Nikki had suggested Jisung take you downstairs to the gift shop to find something to wear. 

The resort you were staying at was right across from the course so the gift shop was full of golf novelties and athletic wear for your... convenience. 

“These are expensive!” you hissed at Jisung once you checked the prices.

“You’re not the one paying for them,” he reminded you. 

“I know, that’s worse!”

“You know how much he makes right? Besides, I’m sure your real boyfriend will love it on you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know that.”

Jisung looked annoyed. “Boyfriend, fuck buddy, booty call, sneaky link, situationship- whatever you want to call him.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you practically begged. “At least not here?”

He shrugged but dropped it. “You should get the polo and the skirt. It matches what I’m going to wear.”

You took Jisung’s advice and bought the items he suggested, paying for them with your own money. Even though they were pricey and you knew you would likely never wear them again, you wanted to exercise at least a little bit of financial freedom. You already felt guilty for the money the Hans had spent on you thus far. 

You thought about keeping the tags on the clothes and then returning them later, but it was hot out today and you knew you’d just sweat right through them. 

Jisung did buy you a little visor without you knowing. He presented it to you with a smug grin as soon as you stepped foot outside the gift shop, once it was too late to stop him. It was embroidered with a little cartoon quokka on the brim.

“We’re not in Australia,” you said, blinking down at the hat.

“Yeah, but it’s cute, right?”

“It’s really cute,” you quickly agreed. “Thank you.”

“Just thought you’d like it.”

He handed you the hat and then set off ahead of you back towards the elevators. You shook your head and scoffed out of earshot. You couldn’t figure him out. Last night he had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to talk, wasn’t ready to forgive you, and this morning he was talking to you like nothing had happened and buying you a sun visor because he saw it and thought you would like it? His mixed signals would give you a headache if you thought about them too long, but it was impossible not to. It was all you could think about. He was all you could think about. Well, him and Minho. 

You felt like an underdeveloped main character in a low-budget coming of age movie who only had enough brainpower to think about boys. Fucking exhausting, all of it. But what were you supposed to do? 

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback :)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Platonic Yandere Ghost x Childhood BFF Reader

Warnings: No pronouns used for Reader except for ‘You’, spoilers for Ghost's past, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, yandere Ghost, toxic behaviour, possessive behaviour, kidnapping, arguing, guilt tripping, intrusive thoughts, etc.

Ghost would never let anyone else have you.

To him, you are the one fragment of his life which is truly his own, that doesn't belong to the dark confines of his childhood or the military.

You were, to put it plainly, Simon's safe haven.

Having known each other since childhood, you are the person who is nearest and dearest to Simon, and he to you.

You were there to shelter him from the abuse of his father, taking him into your home and showing him what a real family could be.

You were there when he decided to join the military, a decision you were concerned about yet supported him nonetheless.

You were there to celebrate his return home, throwing your arms around him and telling him how much you missed him.

You also cooked the most delicious meal he could imagine, and he'd polish all of it off without fail.

And for all these reasons, Ghost is absolutely feral when it comes to you.

He knows it's selfish, but he thinks that you're his and his alone.

If you tell him you're going out with some other friends, he'll mope about it.

Perhaps not in front of you. But he may guilt trip you into staying home with him so you can cuddle.

He loves holding you btw, and being held by you.

He feels protected - safe - like nothing can hurt him.

Reminds him of how you and your family would protect him from his own home life, the two of you sharing your single bed and you playing with his hair, promising you'll never let anyone hurt him.

I should be telling you that, is what he thought to himself then, wrapped in your embrace.

And it's what he tells himself now as he argues with you, telling you that you can't trust those people you call friends - they're only out to hurt you!

"Not everything is a mission, Simon!" you'd snap. "Not everyone is out to get you or me; they're just people! We are just people!"

"I'm only trying to protect you."

You can only sigh, both of you aware of how well that line works on you because you know it's true.

"I know, Si. But I just want to live my life. The same way I want you to live yours."

You rarely argue aside from that. Which is what makes your confrontations so explosive at times.

One evening, after you came back late with the shopping, Ghost snapped.

It was a screaming match the second you walked through the door, Ghost demanding you tell him what took you so long, telling you why you were a liability to yourself, why you needed him with you at all times.

The details grew hazy around then. And with good reason.

While begging Ghost to just let you live without casting suspicion on every relationship you had and every decision you made, Ghost threw himself at you, muffling you with a cloth.

It smelled strange. Medical.

You tried fighting back, knowing what it was, but the substance had already taken hold and made you sink into Simon's chest.

You knew where you'd be when you woke up, just not where.

You knew you'd be locked up somewhere, a dark warehouse or a cabin in a forest, but you didn't know exactly the location of these chambers.

Lo and behold, vision coming back to you, you found your answer.

Indeed, Ghost had confined you to a cabin in the woods.

A tinted window decorated the wall, bars bolted across it.

You knew Simon, and you knew nobody would be able to see in while you could see out, a peep show of freedom you'd never have again.

You suspected the doors were metal, too. Too heavy for you to open and sealed with a code or a key that only Ghost had.

Speaking of, he resided in a chair by your bedside, mask on, watching you.

The room was dark, the night not yet having ended.

He must have had this planned, you thought. Unless he's waited a whole day to wait for me to wake up.

Your heart pounded, your nerves burned.

You didn't know who should talk first. You and Simon had a system that one or the other should start a conversation based on who started one last time. A game then, an uncertain future now.

"I told you I only wanted to protect you."

Ghost's voice sent shivers up your spine. As did his mask, the white details of which barely poked through the darkness.

This wasn't your Simon, you concluded. This was a damaged man possessed by his actions - by the persona he'd fashioned for himself to protect him.

He watched you now; a protector guarding a protector.

It felt confrontational, in a way. You, the one who'd done nothing but love and care for Simon all his life, and Ghost, the phantom that took hold of him when the situation called for it.

You were his next mission.

"And I told you--" you flinched at how dry your throat was, "--that I don't need protecting."

Wordlessly, Ghost took a glass of water form the bedside table and offered it to you.

When you didn't take it, not even sparing it a glance, his eyes burned.

He growled, stood, and threw it against the wall, the glass smashing, the sound making you flinch. The intrusive thought of you walking on it flashed in your mind, making you flinch again.

No, this was not your Simon at all.

Ghost, breathing heavily, looked down at you.

Your arm was cuffed to the bed on a very short leash, giving you no way to even go to the bathroom, never mind the bedroom door.

Ghost, seemingly calmer now, eyes softening, reached a hand out towards you.

You winced at the prospect of this stranger touching you, this alternate person Simon told you about when he came back from his travels, the one who killed, bled and suffered for an unknown cause.

And now, his cause was you.

"I love you, (Y/N)." His voice was deep, almost as if his throat was as dry as yours. "I want you to know that this--" he gestured to the room, "--is only temporary."

You swallowed, pain splintering in your throat, multiplying like an infection.

With his once-outstretched hand, Ghost held your shoulder, then placed a knee on the bed.

You wanted to jump back, but Ghost's growing grip on you stole that option from you.

He lay on his side, facing you, encouraging you with a sentimental gaze to do the same.

With few options, you complied, though opted to face away from him.

He didn't seem to care, pulling you into him, encasing you with his frame.

Your position was the inverse of what it had been when you were children, when you'd tried cover Simon with as much of yourself as possible, blanketing him; as if to take the bullets that were meant for him, to absolve him of any more pain.

"It' my turn to take care of you now." Ghost said, his voice quiet yet booming in your ear. He squeezed you, punctuating his point.

"Nothing can hurt you anymore."

You're hurting me, you wanted to say, tears welling in your eyes and throat.

You willed yourself to succumb to sleep, to dream of a life wherein Ghost did not exist, and where this was only you and Simon, holding each other as you did when you were younger, dreaming of a better future.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist

Masterpost

[eunoiaastralwings]

Fragments of Blue

featuring Bucky x reader

fandom mcu- pre catcw

a/n based on my idea here - here part one (can be read alone too - I think LMAO).

warnings running away ? - idk if there was anything else tell me otherwise

You were simply lying on the on the couch bored when he came in again – with presuming a packet of bread in his hands.

You momentarily looked over the man that was once the deadly assassin – the one who had been assigned to bring you back to your father and his Hydra, every time you tried to escape or occasionally protect you.

He was always so anxious and nervous now – now you saw the real man being the Winter Soldier, trapped underneath Hydra’s torture who was finally free.

But the world didn’t see it like that however – the world still saw him as a murder and a true weapon of evil and you could almost see he saw himself like that too now.

Like he was signing the picture the outside world painted him as.

You always wondered why he came back for you – you were Alexander Pierce’s daughter after all. You were once even called as Hydra’s daughter by your father’s men.

But unlike your father you didn't want to be part of Hydra – but you were forced to know Hydra, including the Winter Soldier.

Little did you know, the blue-eyed man before you remembered as the Winter Soldier, he told to watch over you and made sure you didn't escape from Hydra like you tried countless times.

It was like you were something constant – something different than the usual assassinations he was tasked with.

You father was dead – yet you weren’t sure how to feel about that, he was your only family after all – though he did put Hydra above you.

Once the man was freed from the mind control and for whatever reason he had broken into your father’s house helped her escape and went on the run together.

You had known the moment he stepped in – he wasn’t Blue anymore.

He was the man behind those blue eyes again – still he seemed to be refusing to tell you his real name.

“So. . . you going to tell me your real name or do I keep calling you, Blue?” She asked – as he places the packet of bread on the small table in tiny rundown apartment you were sharing.

You had hated always calling him Soldat or the Winter Soldier, like your father and Hydra did - so you always stuck with calling him Blue, because of his blue eyes. He didn’t remember his own name - and no one would tell him or you either. . .and you wanted to make him feel just a little human. . .

He looked up giving you a once over – as if still debating inside him whether to trust you or not.

To be honest the only reason you were was because of him anyways.

You were almost certain he was going to brush you off again.

But then you heard a small mutter.

“Bucky. . .”

************************************************************************

You disguised yourself the best you could, wearing one of Bucky’s baseball caps – as you looked around the market stalls, trying to follow him.

You were always annoying him – that’s for sure. He had specifically instructed you to stay at the apartment but you clearly hadn't.

“Y/N you shouldn't be here. You’re not supposed to be out without my permission.”

He sounds annoyed.

“I deserve to at least see the sun, Bucky!”

You scowled at his behavior.

“I get it. . . But we can't let anyone find the either of us!”

He sighs.

“The only reason you’re not in the base is because it's me babysitting you.”

He mutters.

“You’re not babysi-“

You tripped over something because of your vintage heeled boots as you tried to follow – needing to hold onto Bucky in case you fell face flat on the ground.

You sighed – knowing he was gonna be mad.

“I told you not to wear those heels!”

He glared – now mad with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t exactly get to stop by at home to grab shoes before going on the run!”

You answered sarcastically.

“Don’t talk back to me. I’m only looking out for you. You really need to take more precautions!”

He warned.

You knew he was mad.

“I cannot go bare feet!”

You still stubbornly scowled –  knowing what he was picking at how you failed to escape multiple times during their time in Hydra and how he as the Winter Soldier always dragged her back kicking and screaming.

“Well, at the light’s still there, princess!

He grumbles and grabs you by the wrist. He pulls her along with a grumpy looking glare.

“We don’t have time for this. I have to keep you safe!”

He mutters, that was something he always said – but Bucky himself didn’t know why he was keeping you safe.

He didn’t know he came running to you – when he was freed from the mind control.

But here you were now.

You simply rolled your eyes and followed him to a farmers’ market.

He glances over at you.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for a change!”

Bucky sounded exhausted and anxious – he walks fast with you still holding your hand and you were trying to keep up with his pace.

Once again – stubborn as ever you didn't answer. The farmers’ market was large, with lots of stands and stalls, some selling fruit, spices/herbs, meat, or vegetables, others selling handmade crafts.

You easily got distracted with handmade crafts and toys.

Bucky looked – noticing how you got easily distracted, he just sighs an tries to not get annoyed.

He notices as your eyes were filled wonder, even glancing at your hair too.

You seem to have a soft, sweet face with the eyes of an angel.

“Why cant you just stay focused for once Y/N. . .”

He said – being a hypocrite as he found himself, getting distracted by you.

Before his eyes dart around nervously as they search for any threats. He seems on edge – always looking around as he looks for Hydra members or even agents.

He then went over to the fruit vendors – still keeping a close eye on you while spoke in Romanian trying buy a few plums for you and him.

You then picked up a little wooden carved wolf smiling at it as Bucky looks at the fruits.

Bucky glares at you – you smile and your beauty makes him stop and stare for a few moments.

“Y/N, put that down. We don't have time for that.”

He said – now coming back over to you.

“I told you we're on the run and we can’t risk letting the enemy find either of us.”

He whispers – now close enough only you could hear him.

You sighed, a small pout on your lips as you put back the carved wolf.

Then spots a grumpy unhappy looking plushie bear.

“Oh look! It's you!”

You said – picking up the blue grumpy looking plushie bear.

“Put that down you brat! We don’t have time for this!”

He looks at you – there was a look of annoyance and frustration.

Bucky was also nervous as he looks for any signs of a threat – and he glances at the plushie.

He thinks of it as a waste of time.

“I’m buying it!”

You said to Bucky.

“No, you aren't. Put it down. It’s a waste of good money!”

He tries to reach for the plushie to take it from you.

“It’s not wasting if I love it!”

You said – cradling it protectively close.

“It is also wasting since we’re on the run and it’s not the time for toys!”

He seems annoyed as he tries and snatch the plushie bear away from her.

 “Ooo, ok blue bear, I’m gonna call you Bucky!"

You hugged the plushie bear.

“Stop it you brat! You are so annoying!”

Bucky said annoyed – but he thinks you looked adorable.

Though it made him roll his eyes – when she insisted call a plushie by his name.

You just held it protectively close.

“Give it to me!”

Bucky tried to forcefully take it from you.

You held it protectively – “no!”

You scowled.

Bucky tried to take the plushie away, he grabs the plushie’s arm as he tries to force it away from you as you tried to protect it.

 “Give it here kid!”

“I’m 25, not a kid!”

You argued – though it seemed hilarious right now.

“You are acting like one.”

He glares at you – still holding onto the plushie’s arm as he refuses to give it to you.

“No!”

You said again.

It was then Bucky spots a few familiar looking agents up ahead behind her.

Bucky seems to pause – then glances again over at the agents, who are still unaware of their presence.

He looks back at you.

“We need to get out of here!”

He tries to move you in a direction, but you were still holding onto the stupid plushie.

You frowned looking behind yourself – your eyes widened and she froze seeing the familiar Hydra general blending in with the crowd in casual clothes as he and his men were seemingly looking for them.

Bucky grabs the plushie, tossing it aside – then grabs your hand and pulls you in a different direction.

He is now trying to act fast as he leads you away from the general and agents. He seems to be on edge as he eyes dart back and forth quickly trying to find a safe place.

"Just..."

You looked around then at Bucky – if the acted casual too blending in with the crowd, they wouldn’t be spotted.

"Blue, put your arm around me and pretend to laugh at something I said!"

You say seeing more agents – the former nickname you had for him slipping out in the mist of the situation.

Bucky has an annoyed look on his face – but he still decides to follow your plan for the moment – seeing how it made sense.

So he puts his arm around you and pretend to laugh at something you said.

“Heh. . .Heh, Heh heheh. . . Very funny. . .”

He said – and you almost had to stop from laughing out loudly yourself at how horrible that sounded.

So you simply rolled her eyes amused – seemingly their role-playing worked as the agents paid them no attention and walked past without noticing either of them.

“You need to work for on your acting skills though!”

You said – once they passed.

“I’m not an actor. I'm a super soldier, princess. . .”

He mutters – annoyed by your comment as he seems to be on edge – always looking around nervously.

“We’re still not safe. . .”

You rolled your eyes again at his former words – “anyways let’s go!”

Bucky was still seemingly on edge as he follows you.

He keeps looking behind him to see if they are still being followed.

His blue eyes were darting around nervously.

You had almost tripped onto the escalators – again because of your heeled boots.

Bucky scowling seeing almost trip again – but he still tries not to yell at you as he glares and sighs, shaking his head.

“You really need to get some new shoes, doll. . .”

He keeps his eyes darting around as he follows you.

You were going to answer – but her eyes widened as you saw a few agents taking the opposite side of the escalator – but you were crowded in you and couldn't move.

Bucky stops and freezes as he spots them too.

“Crap. . . We have to go.”

He tries pull you away in a different direction – his eyes dart around nervously as he looks for any escape routes.

The escalators were too close – you’d be spotted.

You looked around then suddenly said to Bucky – “kiss me!”

Bucky pauses and his eyes dart to you as he looks at you in disbelief.

He blinks in surprise.

 “What?”

He says confused – nervous, an unsure of what to do.

“Why?”

He says, seeming a bit skeptical of your plan.

“Physical displays of affection make people uncomfortable!”

You said blurt out – knowing the agents will look away seeing a couple kiss.

Bucky still seems unsure of it but he looks at you with the most serious expression.

He sighs and thinks about it for a second as he makes a hard decision.

“. . . Okay. . .”

He says as he slowly leans towards you to kiss you – he still has a annoyed look on his face but tries to relax.

He kisses you softly and he sighs.

He still feels annoyed about your plan – but he seems a bit relieved that they didn't get caught by the agents as he looks at you.

He’s still not sure if he likes you or not– j but he still seems to really enjoy the kiss.

You both then slowly pull away the moment the agents were out of sight.

But stops kissing you – the look of annoyance reappearing.

“You’re crazy.”

He sighs and rubs his face – “. . .I can’t believe I kissed you. . .”

“Oh please, it’s not I like just kissed Richard Madden or something!”

You grumbled sarcastically – as you reached the floor.

He looked at you with the same serious expression – but it quickly changes into a pissed off expression.

“. . .What? Richard, who?”

Bucky sounds agitated as he looks at you.

He’s not only annoyed by what you said – but the kiss. He tries to put the kiss out of his mind.

“Richard Madden. . .? The British actor. . .?” You said “You know the guy who played in Bodyguard or even prince charming in the live action Cinderella!”

“I don't care about no British actor we just kissed!”

He scoffs as he glances away angrily.

“. . .And?”

You ask – raising an eyebrow.

Bucky was shocked by your response as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You’re. . . You’re not embarrassed?”

He asks.

“Well. . . yes. . . but hey, it got us out of there!”

You said.

“. . .Right.”

He grumbles looks away as is pissed. He rubs his face in annoyance again and he just tries to forget about it.

“What?”

You ask – seeing the annoyed grumpy expression on his face.

“Nothing. . . Nothing at all. Just shut up and stop talking about Ricker Maddened.”

He grumbles – getting you both back out into streets again.

“Richard Madden.”

You corrected him.

“And – I don’t care.”

He grumbles under his breath.

You just rolled your eyes as he quickly pulled you back into the apartment – that kiss continuously replaying his mind. . .

He’d be lying if he said – the warmth of your lips against his didn’t feel good or made his heart race. . .

Perhaps, there was a reason why he came for you. . .

tagging everyone who was interested in the first part ( One more part then the story will be finished ):

@kiekiekiki @ijustneedpopcorn @geminigengar @batsyforyou </3

PART 1 | PART 2

And yes - I used references from catws xD

[interroblog]

I started free writing last week and it tripled my daily word counts so I feel the need to evangelize 👀

I’m in the “figuring out what happens in this story” stage of plotting which is what it’s been really great for, but I can see it helping any time you need to solve problems or get ideas. Here’s the rules I use for myself, hopefully someone else will find it helpful

Write every thought. All of my free writing sessions start with a ramble about how I’m going to start free writing, then I write all the things I could explore until I latch onto one and go.

No thought is too undeveloped. Even if it’s a poorly written sentence fragment or idea about an idea… it might lead to something else, so it goes in.

Chase your ideas! If I’m writing about one idea and I suddenly get another, I’ll just immediately swap to writing about that. I can always finish that other idea later, but I know I’d forget about the new one. It’s easier to remember a half-written idea than a fully unwritten one.

Writing something doesn’t mean I’m going with it. I’ve written down ideas then immediately after added “But I don’t like that because (reason)”. It almost always leads me to writing about another idea that I like a lot more

Basically, it’s not about what you write. It’s about the ideas it leads you to. It’s so helpful for making me get out of my head and solidify thoughts so I can build on them. I’ll put three excerpts from my free writing doc under the cut to show off the different levels of “quality”

“there’s only one bridge into this area, it’s closed for flooding after snow melt. So that’s why they’re stuck in this area. Amp brings them back to his cabin? Doesn’t want to let a bunch of kids sleep outside. There’s two layers to his interactions, the truth that he would die for these fuckers because they are his family- and the lie he’s telling them. It’s the latter I’m trying to figure out.

they first meet him at the gas station, then later [note: here I skipped to the next line to follow a new thought I had, then never went back to finish this one because it connected back anyway]

They’re camping in the woods when they see something tall and inhuman. The moonlight reaches it and they see amp with a torch and a bag (torch??? Who am i) of food, fire starter, and a blanket (given to Saint, who then forces tab to share it with him because he feels awkward. Cuties)

He says he saw their car on the road, it’s march and he didn’t want anyone freezing to death. (There’s the hint that he didn’t just see their car but he knew to be looking for them. He didn’t just happen to have all that stuff on him, after all.)”

“time to free write 500 words real fast cause i wanna get to 2k. What are we working with. I think I’ve got some good stuff right now, it all just needs to fall into place. Let’s see how it goes, listing arcs.

There’s Saint’s arc which i still need to define more, it’s been changing a lot as the story develops which is good!! The goal!! I don’t want to solidify it too much, but it goes”

“let’s see… i really want it to build on itself, and the surgery stuff feels too out of place or like a regression, even though it’s literally the point of the story. Maybe it’s the fact they go home? I could try having the surgery take place in the underground with saint only thinking he’s back at a hospital- but that undermines a lot of the stuff with the parents if it isn’t real”

[childesglove]

Did You Cheat On Me? Revenge Taste Bitter (Part 2)

Summary: Childe thought you had cheated on him and he decided he was going to take revenge, even if it hurts both of you. Now that he realised he made a mistake, how can he ever fix this?

Read Part 1

Tags: Angst with comfort, Hurt, Implied Violence, Reader has anxiety attack, not proof read, verbal abuse, a lot of screaming

__________________________________________________

You turned and leaned against the door, breathing heavily as you felt the weight of the world crashing on you. You parted your lips and an ugly sob escaped you. You covered your ears in an attempt to block out all the noises but it did nothing to silence your thoughts.

Your heart ached so much it felt almost physical. You haveso many questions but all you could do was curl yourself into a tight ball.

Like a hammer striking a fragile mirror, reality shattered the memory into a thousand sharp fragments. All the lovely images of him smiling sweetly at you, holding you tight and making you feel safe shattered.

It was a painful reminder that he was not the one.

He was just a passerby in your life that left a scar that would take forever to heal.

You stayed in the same position for what felt like hours before you started packing your clothes.

With one last look, you left this place that you once called home.

The same day

Childe was lost in his thoughts, he was growing restless as each moment passed by, he couldn’t forget the look on your face when you left.

He felt sick and twisted for making you cry even when you were the one that betrayed him. He was supposed to feel happy, triumphant even, yet all he felt was emptiness and a sense of dread.

He doesn’t even know where that dread came from.

“ Lord Harbinger, a man that claims to be a friend of Ms y/n is requesting an audience.”

“Let him in.”

“Urm, Hello. I’m Matt.” A nervous-looking man entered, his eyes darted around as he licked his lips nervously.

“You dare..” Childe’s eyes narrowed coldly as he recognised the man, it was that bastard that you cheated with.

“I think we have a misunderstanding here!” Matt widened his eyes as he put his hands up in an attempt to calm the harbinger down. “I am Y/n’s childhood friend, I recently just came back from Sumeru to visit my family.“ The poor man was talking like a machine gun as if a bomb is about to set off.

That feeling of dread is coming back again, Childe stared at Matt, waiting for him to continue.

“Y/n is just like a little sister to me and I am really happy she found someone.” When he mentioned you, Matt’s eyes softened for a second. “I wanted to explain to you yesterday but you looked like you were ready to kill me..” he smiled sheepishly.

“What..what did you just say?”Childe’s mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to find you and beg for forgiveness but he didn’t even know where to begin.

Everything made sense now.

The way you looked so hurt, confused and offended when he confronted you.

“What have I done?” Childe muttered, his face contorted into a horrified expression.

He messed up.

When he went back to their shared home, he was greeted with nothing but emptiness. The house was silent, not a trace of you was left behind. Your matching mugs, the plushies you insisted on keeping, and the photo frames of you and him were all gone.

A letter was left on the table.

__________________________________________________

Dear Ajax,

I went against my whole family and friends to be with you, and I really thought it would be you in the end but turns out, my mother was right. You were not and never would be that man.

I wished I’d never met you, you make me feel sick.

Hope we never meet again.

Y/N

____________________________________________________

As he read, Childe’s hands began to tremble as he clutched at his chest, trying to hold himself together, but the emotions were too overwhelming, raw.

His face was twisted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks as he read and re-read the words on the page.

He can’t believe he fucked up so badly.

It felt like yesterday when you pressed yourself against his back, whispering how much you loved him. The way you kiss his ears, giggling as you watch his ears turn red under your touch.

Each time he came back from the battlefield tainted with blood and all worn out, all he wants is to see you, hear you call his name so sweetly.

Yet all of these are gone because of his foolishness.

Part 3?

[heliads]

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest. 

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.��

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?” 

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath:  A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another:  The van Almelos of the Belendt Region:  Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing. 

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

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