#about the chain and how they deal with stress and what they do to calm down

[hoe4sports]

Intuition

Jessie Fleming x reader

Note from the author: the train to angstytown is leaving. This is a fic to highlight women in abusive relationships.

If you experience domestic violence, please seek help at your closest emergency line.

Summary: After growing up with Jessie and dating your way through college; you split up. Years later you play for the same team, but Jessie has a bad feeling about your newly acquired fiancé. You need help, but you don’t know how to ask for help.

Warnings: Mentions of domesticated violence.

-

You sat in front of the mirror wondering if this is it. This situation that you have gotten yourself in is turning into a living hell. But you can’t help it. It’s addictive.You realise that can’t navigate the situation anymore, the reigns are beyond your control. The eggshells are becoming too many and the scares are taking a toll on your health.

On the table infront of you, is your bright pink hairbrush and your makeup. You grab your hairbrush, brushing your hair slowly. It hurts when you brush it, as your scalp has become sensitive due to all the impact it has taken. But, it’s okay, you think. She dosent mean it. You used to love your hair. It was your greatest asset. When you were a teenager, a young girl, all you wanted was to have long beautiful hair. But now, all you want to do is to cut it off. You feel like it holds you down. It’s like chains covering your arms and feet. Like if you were to go for a swim, you would drown in the lake from the weight of the chains. Gosh, you think to yourself. You don’t even recognise yourself anymore. The shadow of the person you used to be is slowly becoming too heavy to carry by yourself, but the thought of having to admit the truth feels even heavier. However, if you are gonna make it out of there, you are gonna have to share the backpack filled with rocks with someone else.

You have been weighing out the options you have for a few weeks. There is a short window of time coming up. It’s less than a weekend, but if you can get someone to help you then you’ll manage to get done in time. But you have a doubt in your mind, then again, she probably dosent mean it.

Every time your work up the courage to tell someone, you freeze. Gosh, why is this so hard you think. This isn’t love, but your fiance just happens to be stressed. She doesn’t mean it, you think. There is a lot of stress at work. And you haven’t really been the best partner. You had left your toothbrush on the sink the other day and she had flipped like a switch. Telling at you about anything from her pants not being washed to the glass you left on the counter. Whenever this happens, you do your best to stay silent and calm. It’s okay, you think. She always apologises afterwards when she calms down, and she says that she is gonna change for the better. But, change takes time, you think. Maybe all your fiance needs is more time. For you to be more flexible. More empathetic. More understanding. More helpful. Less annoying. Less frustrating to deal with. Maybe you just needs to find a way to be good enough for her, perfect for her. But you don’t know what to do to become perfect because your fiancé has told you that you are the furthest thing from perfect. You don’t blame her, she’s just telling the truth you think. She doesn’t mean it as a negative thing, it’s all said with good intentions you decide.

A few hours later, you arrive at practice. Jessie instantly sees you and her cheery self comes over. She knows that you have been pulling away, but her mind is fighting over whenever to say something or not. At the end of the day, it isn’t really her business. But really, it is. You used to be close. Not just the kind of close where you had sleepovers at each others dorms or the kind of close where you know the other’s favourite foods or colors. It is the kind of close where she knows what you are thinking before you do, they call it intuition. It had started back when you were neighbours in Canada as kids. You went to kindergarten together, middle school, high school and somehow ended up in the same dorm at university. 20 years together with someone does something about you. She knew you like the back of her hand, and you knew her. It had been a few slip ups with you two in high school, but only when partying. You had kissed her, but she had forgotten. She had admitted her feelings to you, but you had forgotten. It was the circle that neither of you knew how to get out off until Jessie admitted to liking you in College while laying together to watch a movie. You couldn’t really remember why you broke up, but it was civil. Jessie knew you better than anyone else. And that was why she was worried. Her nights would be filled with what if’s and questions about how you were feeling and what she could do to help.

Jessie’s intuition started ruffling her mind when she met your fiance just shy of a year ago. You and Jessie had been dating in college, but when Jessie left to play overseas; one of you had called it off without really knowing why. It was heartbreaking. Soulshredding. Decapitating. Jessie was the kind of woman that was too good for this world. She would always bring you coffee. Or let you borrow her half zip. Or drive you home and wait until you had gone inside until she drove away. Jessie never wanted you to be perfect. She actually never wanted you to be anything that you didn’t want to be. A part of you still wishes that you stuck together after college. But Jessie deserved better. Jessie was perfect. She was just so perfect that it hurt seeing her with the last woman she dated.

Jessie shortened s the distance between you and greeted you with her typical bright Jessie smile. You had been playing together for a a year now, but Jessie knew you. She knew that something was off. She knew that you were engaged, but she never sees your fiance at your games. She noticed that your fiance never posted anything of you online. You always excuses her with that she was busy or that she really dosent care for football. It’s was lie. Your fiance told you that until you started playing better, you didn’t deserve to have someone watching you. She said it was waiting her time. It felt embarrassing to her when she had to watch you make mistakes on the field.

“Hiya Y/N, excited for today?”

You look at Jessie confused. A part of you freezes. If you have forgotten something important, your fiance will punish you for it. Taking your phone away. Making you run laps until you throw up from exhaustion in the pouring rain. Have you sleep outside in the dog’s house. Jessie notices you scared look, and you reaction dosent help her fears.

“Hey Jess, what’s today exactly?” You say with a treble in your voice.

“Media day! You and me have a few hours of media duty together, just like the old days”

You smile softly. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. That means that you will be late. You won’t have dinner ready for when your fiance comes home. Your fiance will be furious. Enraged. Disappointed. God, you think. You promised her that you would be better, but here you were again. Not getting better. The worry creeps up on you while you sit down next to Jessie’s cubby. You rub your knees anxiously. The beauty of worrying about a lot of things is that many things can be done on autopilot. Like tying your cleats. Like putting on your shin pads. At one point you went from being excited to put them on to feeling worried and anxious. Like you wanted to throw up. Not over if you could score a goal or not, but over what your fiance would think of you. Pathetic. Fiasco. Disappointed. All words that she had used to describe you. You decided to try to push it to the back of your head. To a spot where you don’t have to think about it. You figured you would just dissociate until practice wqs over.

-

The media woman brings you and Jessie into a room of “who’s most likely to”. You feel your heart become lighter. It’s something that won’t cause issues between you and your fiance. She won’t have to worry. And you won’t have to feel scared. The woman is going through how the game works. Your head won’t allow you to focus. Instead you straighten your shorts and make sure that your sweater is zipped up. If it isn’t zipped, your fiance might think that you are trying to get attention from other women or that you have cheated on her. If your shorts is too short, she’ll think you are a whore. All her rules are taking a toll at you. But you try to suppress it, and it seems like you are doing a mighty fine job. But only for the moment.

“Who is most like to get a yellow card?” Jessie reads. You both point to you. Phew, you think. No argument. But your fiance is going to be pissed about you being known to getting yellow cards.

“Who is most likely to score a goal?” You read. You feel stressed for a second. You are a forward, but you suck. You are terrible. Not even sure why you are allowed to play football for a living. You point towards Jessie, who points towards you. Shit, you think. Jessie disagrees. You pray that she won’t be mad. Jessie raises her brow at you, but you ignore it.

“Who is most likely to control the music in the lockerroom?” Jessie reads and she instantly points towards you. “Just this afternoon, she infiltrated my ears with Sabrina Carpenter.” She said as she shoves her shoulders in yours. It makes you smile, and you nod into the camera. You feel slightly more comfortable.

“Who is most likely to forget something?” You read. You let out a small giggle before pointing to Jessie. She raises her hands. And you smile. “Jessie used to forget everything in college, it was so bad that I started carrying an extra of everything in case she needed it”. You say before looking down. You could feel your protective wall lowering. Jessie smiled at you before playfully rolling her eyes. “I can’t even deny it! I’m sure you can find tons of pictures of me running around with her number on it” Jessie finishes before slapping your knee playfully.

“Who is most likely to try to argue with the referee?” Jessie reads before giggling. “Y/N here, would always defend me when we played back in college. She would practically fly across the field to argue with the ref or the opponents if needed.” Jessie finishes leaving you blushing. Shit, you think. If you blush, your fiance might think that you like Jessie. Well, you do like Jessie. But you won’t admit it. That was probably how everyone felt about someone they dated in college, right? You look at Jessie who points to you, and you give a shy smile before pointing to yourself.

-

“My name is Jessie Fleming, and this was who is most likely to with Y/N. Thanks for watching!” Jessie finished and the crew stopped recording pleased with today’s footage. You looked over at Jessie who hopped out of her seat while taking the time to thank the crew for spending time creating content, you nodded in agreement.

-

As you were entering the locker room, you both headed to your own cubbies. You were busy trying to find a new pair of socks and slippers that had somehow gotten lost in the cubby. Your brain was trying to figure out how to tell Jessie that you needed help. That you needed her. But you were scared to step on Jessie’s new girlfriend’s toes. You were terrified to overstep your boundaries.

Jessie decided to break the awkward silence that was building up.

“So, how’s Hannah?”

You froze at the sound of her name. Scared of what you were allowed to say and what you weren’t allowed to say. The situation was turning into what you needed it to be, but also what you dreaded. You wanted to fall apart infront of Jessie. To have her scoop you up and hold you, like in college. Have her take you home and get your things before letting you stay at her place until you had yourself sorted.

Your eyes turned towards Jessie who were still awaiting a response. You fiddled with your engagement ring. A ridiculously big rock. Nothing like you wanted. You wanted simple. She gave you big and flashy. Jessie knew this. She knew that you despised the ring, but that you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Jessie knew because she had wanted to purpose to you after college. She knew everything from how you wanted to be purposes to, what you wanted to wear, how you wanted your nails done, the size of the ring and even the type of ring. Jessie had gotten so far that her grandmother had handed down her engagement ring to Jessie, so she could purpose with something extremely meaningful. You longed for Jessie, and Jessie longed for you.

“H-Hannah? Uh, she’s working.. uh, a lot” you stuttered while feeling your eyelids burning. Your head was pounding. Your heart was beating so hard in you chest that you felt sick. The blood was rushing in your ears. It felt like all the nerves and receptors in your brain was twisting making the room spin.

“Oh really” Jessie said very much unimpressed as she huffed. You turned to look at her and she was busy fighting with her curls. She never liked Hannah. She felt as if Hannah rushed you into a relationship and an engagement. The proposal was nothing like Jessie knew you wanted, perhaps that made Jessie hate her even more. Hannah had purposed just shy of a year of being together. She had guilt tripped you into saying yes, telling you that if you’d say no that you would be a brat, ungrateful and a terrible partner.

“Is she still busy being the equivalent to a walking asshole?” Jessie spat out before closing her cubby hard and turning around to look at you. You didn’t know what to say. You felt like all the air was sucked out of your lungs. A single tear fell from your cheek. It was quickly wiped away in an attempt to cover up the damage that your fiancé had done.

Jessie was now getting suspicious that her intuition was right. She had felt weird about the relationship since day one. Her hate from Hannah had increased every match day when she saw how heartbroken you were when she wasn’t there to watch. She’d watch you turn into someone you never were. A complete stranger to whom you really were.

“Is she treating you good? Like really properly good?”

Jessie sat down next to you, both of your faces turned forwards. Her hand slowly laid itself on to of yours covering your engagement ring. She couldn’t help but wish that it was her ring on your hand. Her hand gently stroke yours and she scooted closer to you. You felt her side touch your side. Tears were now forming rapidly in your eyes.

“Sunny? What happened to you? You were always so happy, smiley and always laughing. My mom always called you sunshine”

Jessie asked. Her hand reached for you cheek as she wiped away some of the tears you had flowing. They didn’t seem to stop. But you didn’t make a sound. It made Jessie’s heart hurt even more. She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make her seem biased.

“Do you remember the family bbq? That was when my mom called you sunshine for the first time. I asked my mom about why she was calling you that, and when she told my why I insisted on calling you Sunny. “ Jessie continued.

She was right. Her mom would always call you sunshine. You were always a happy kid. Always smiling, laughing and talking away. The joy of being alive was radiating through your eyes, as a child. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to answer Jessie, but you didn’t know how. You needed help to get away, but the words felt so big. So strange in your mouth. Like they were a foreign language you had yet to learn.

“You really were my sunshine, you know? My sunny.You are still my sunny.” She said as she laid a hand on your back. By now, the tears were constantly streaming down your face. You cried silently, not letting a sound out. The sight broke Jessie. This side of you was a stranger to her. You threw your arms around Jessie. She held onto you while your tears streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes were red from crying. Your mind exhausted from trying to be someone you weren’t. You looked up at Jessie who smiled sadly back at you.

“Help me, Jess” you whispered as you cried your brave tears. Jessie pulled you in tighter and kissed the top of your head, like when you were kids and your great grandmother passed. You felt strangely safe. Like you were transported back to college. To your good days. To your best days.

Jessie looked down at you while holding you. She whispered into your ears. “I’m gonna get you out of there, Sunny.” Her voice broke when she saw your sad face.

“Because you were my sunshine”

[ktaerssoi]

Mmmm what about Kate with a partner who’s love language is gift giving, specifically handmade gifts.

Like just imagine Kate being gifted a bouquet of crochet flowers by her partner, I can’t get that image out of my head.

Also do you take anons? can I be 🐹 anon?

handcrafted

kate martin x fem!reader

summary: it was your's and kate's one year anniversary together, and to make it special you made your gift by hand.

(826)

you and kate have had a connection from the moment you met, you guys had ignored it until you finally confessed to her in the pouring rain, a story for another day, but a connection nonetheless.

you guys had made a deal on your six month anniversary that you wouldn't go all out for your one year, so you hadn't. recently, you had been trying to learn how to crochet, seeing some cute crafts that you wanted to make.

one of these crafts, a bouquet of crochet flowers, caught your eye one day while scrolling on Instagram. you looked up a tutorial and quickly got to practicing, thinking that they would make a nice, thoughtful gift for kate.

you had finally gotten the pattern down a few days before you were going to go out. you had made almost a dozen of them, untying and retying them all together until they were to your standards. you felt sort of weird making something so simple for such a big day in your relationship, but at the same time, it felt fitting for you and kate.

-

the day had come, you were woken up by kate bringing you breakfast, more like lunch, in bed.

the two of you had the whole day planned out, you were going to chill at home for a little, maybe hit up the mall, and then go out to dinner at a restaurant you guys had been frequenting more often. you were excited, to say the least, you had gotten ready two hours before you had to leave, wanting to look your best.

you were nervous too, you were starting to get self-conscious about your gift, thinking it was a little babyish. calm down, it'll be fine, it's just kate. you repeated those words in your head until you started to believe them.

you guys were having a great night, the food was great and you were laughing and talking the whole time. you guys had decided to do presents once you got home, feeling like it might be weird to do such a personal thing in a public setting.

you guys were wrapping up at the restaurant, the waiters and waitresses bidding you goodbye, knowing they would see the two of you again soon.

"c'mon y/n, I want to go home! I'm so excited to give you your gift, it's so cool" you smiled as you looked at kate, she was practically jumping off the walls to leave.

"my company isn't enough to keep you here?" you laughed as you walked out the door, watching her face contort to make an argument against your claim. you didn't hear the end of it till you got to the car two minutes later.

your leg was bouncing nervously on the way home, kate had noticed and grabbed your hand halfway there. it calmed you down, even if you didn't want to admit you were stressed in the first place.

you weren't totally sure why you were nervous, maybe it was the fact that you thought kate wouldn't like them, or that you felt like they wouldn't compare to whatever kate gets you.

-

finally, after both of you had changed and taken off your makeup, you were seated on the couch. both of you holding the other's respective gifts. kate had a tiny bag that seemed to hold something fancy. you were scared, to say the least.

you switched bags and to say you were shocked is an understatement. kate had given you a bracelet with what seemed to be hand-polished gems, she had held off on opening hers just to see your reaction.

you jumped into her arms, kissing her face to show your gratitude. "kate, baby, this is so cute, did you make this yourself? i love it so much oh my gosh." you had asked her to help you put it on, not wanting to ever take it off again.

you were sitting on her lap messing with the chain when you realized she hadn't opened your gift yet. "kate!" you gasped, a smile on your face as you reached for the bag, handing it to her. "open it! please? i know its not much but i learned how to make each one individually and it took me actual weeks-" you were cut off by kate kissing your lips, it was a slow kiss, one that expressed just how thankful she was for the present.

"they're amazing babe, im going to go get a vase to put them in." you got up, letting her walk into the kitchen to get a vase. you were still a little shell-shocked about that kiss.

-

the vase of handmade flowers sat on your coffee table for almost two years, only moving when you did. every year since your first anniversary you've added a new flower. every day, it's like walking into a reminder of just how much you two had been through together.

notes: erm chat?? new color?? but also yes, i do take anons! hi 🐹!! anyway chat.. i miss my gf.. YEAH GIRLFRIEND. I TOLD YOU SHE WAS INTO ME. (we've been on one date.) sos chat - kate

kate's gift to you

your gift to kate

[fuxuannie]

PROLOGUE - ATTEMPT #01

— SERIES OVERVIEW (SPOILERS FOR LUOFU ARC.)

|| Being the younger sibling of Jing Yuan has put a responsibility on your shoulders. As the Acting General in his absence, many people expect you to uphold the very same outstanding performance your brother has provided for those of Luofu. What happens when coincidentally the very rare occurance of your brother taking a week off, Luofu was under your leadership and guidance, the Stellaron Hunters make contact with your land?

— CHAPTER OVERVIEW

|| "It's just a week, you'll do it for me, won't you?" Your brother, Jing Yuan, said with pleading eyes. "...Fine. You owe me for this." You grumbled, what could go wrong in just a week? You were hoping that there would be none.. but something in you, a gut feeling, was telling you otherwise.

You watched your brother leave Luofu, a small wave as he smiles at you through his vehicle window. Once he was out of your sight, you let your lips curl into a frown, you needed to be the General that Luofu wanted you to be. "You and Jing Yuan share the same blood, we were raised the same and yet we are different people." Mumbling to yourself, still standing there and giving yourself a pep-talk to prepare for what may be the worst week ever. "And though we are different, I must be him for now. I know him enough, I think.. so it can't be that hard."

Goodness, how badly you'd choke on those words later. Hard was an understatement. The difficulty of his job deserves a whole new word to describe it with. All the routines he had to follow, meetings to attend and scoldings from Fu Xuan he had to endure, the way he managed all this and can still make it back home to you with such a calm demeanor is a mystery.

Yanqing seemed to notice your stressed state, he was a good friend of yours and almost like a little brother since you grew up together. "Do you know what calms the General down?" He shares with you, a smile on his face. "We can take a stroll around, talk with the people and enjoy the sights. Currently, looking at your schedule, you don't have a lot on your plate. And if ever we are needed, we are not far enough to take a while to return." You thought about it for a while, and thought it was a good idea.

Now you're outside, finally out of that office that you were sitting in for hours. Being able to stretch your legs and Yanqing laughs by your side. "You're like the General. He acts similarly on his break."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? The more I'm like my brother, the more efficient I'll be."

"Acting General (name), I don't think it's wise to compare yourself to your brother. You and him may have those small similarities, but you are very different, you lead differently and act differently. You don't have to be him."

You smile at Yanqing, a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks. I.. needed that."

Suddenly, your phone goes off, an alert from your guards that they've caught a Stellaron Hunter. "Oh my.. Yanqing, we must cut the moment short. I apologize, but we have to go now."

Stellaron Hunters were wanted all across the galaxy, numerous reports once flooded your brothers desk and all of them were filled with pages about what these people were capable of doing. Now the fact that they're here, in Luofu, was not a good sign. You needed to deal with it quickly.

So there you stood, atop a stage of the Shackling Prison. Your hands behind your back as your captive walks in, guards chaining him down as he enters the dark room.

"Yanqing." You say sternly, "Yes, Acting General?" He replies, hopping off his chair and bowing to you slightly. "Have a keen eye on him, observe him carefully." You demand, and his face turns to the man who is mostly infamous for going as the alias Blade.

"You are not Jing Yuan." Were the first words that escape his lips and your brows furrow at the mention of your brothers name. "What business do you have with the General?"

"Of five people.... Three must pay a price."

Your eyes widen slightly at the familiar line, but you're quick to stand your ground and you continue to stare at him coldly. Yanqing on the other hand, had his hand already shifting to the hilt of his sword and prepared for any kind of attack.

"Jing Yuan, he is not one of them."

Theres a sense of relief that overflows your body, but now a question sparked in your mind. Blade held a smirk on his face, almost as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"Then what is your business here in Luofu?"

— a/n

hi i did it!! i started the thing n i hope you all like it!! i'm not really the type to do series,, but i wanna try! constructive criticism and such is greatly appreciated. ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

— taglist red is un-taggable ( ;´꒳`;)

@hansel-the-pierrot @alizaneth2 @regulus-arcturus-babygirl @comforthouse @simonaapsvtv @adorablezhui @starfart19 @annathea-annoona

[wayfayrr]

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here?  If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they? 

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING?? 

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with??? 

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life. 

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me,  I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was. 

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple. 

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered. 

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship. 

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death?  That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest. 

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him. 

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well.   There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?

[brynnterpretations]

okay, i saw your previous ship request and i'm not used to this type of stuff but i have a massive 'the boys' brainrot so: why not? let's do this! 'the boys' ship ask!

i'm a bisexual girl (what an introduction) from eastern europe (yeah, these beautiful countries with delightful swear words like: suka, kurwa and pizda). i like belles-lettres, fashion, history, a little bit of sociology, art, museums, a little bit of everything if i'm being honest.

i'm kind of jack of all trades but master of none. i have a opinion on every topic and i like to research a lot but i'm not interested in doing anything with the universal knowledge i have. yes, i may know a lot about many topics but i will never pursue a bachelor's degree in any of it. that's why i like to write stories, essays etc. because i can speak my mind freely. one day i can talk to someone about alexander the great and then at midnight i will text you top 10 facts you didn't know about kangaroos.

i also like drama, but i don't like being in the middle of it. i will enjoy when things are getting more and more complicated as long as i'm not included in it. sometimes during in-group arguments i can act as the devil's advocate for certain person but it doesn't mean i entirely agree with them - i just want to prove that not everything is black and white.

i'm in the conflict between my head and my heart, because i make all my decisions by using brains and then wonder if i haven't left someone behind. with my closest friends and family i don't have this problem but with more casual friends i always felt some type of guilt after i did something. the same case is with my humor because i will most likely jokingly bully you if you are the person i care about, but some people take it too seriously and feel offended by it😬 (fortunately, i have a cousin who shares the same absurd and sarcastic type of humor.)

and even though i'm a extrovert i prefer small groups in which i know i can feel comfortable. it's because i deal with a lot of stress in my life and sometimes i feel overhelmed by my intrusive thoughts (mm, i know you will get me). tbh i love those friendships in which you can both be weird but also have a deep conversations. besides all the things i said i'm also more future oriented so i don't hold grudges for long. i also love telling people random stories and love when they answer to me with their own silly stories.

i gues that's it. have a nice day! i hope you're doing well!! :DD

Thank you so much for the request, you seem like such a sweetheart! I hope you like it. ☻

I ship you with...

Frenchie ♡

Boyfriend

GIF Source: @screwsupes ★ (link)

You and Frenchie have what is basically the opposite of a meet-cute. On a drug-fueled suspicion that the cashier at Fumo, a NYC pizza chain, is the supe that The Boys have heard is around the area, Frenchie gets kicked out of the establishment.

But you — bless you — notice the commotion and, both intrigued and concerned (because how TF do you get kicked out of Fumo?), went out to the parking lot. After a brief conversation with him, littered with curses in both French and English, you eventually are able to calm him down a bit, and get him the pizza he was going to take back to the coup.

Frenchie's quite charmed by you — you're a good conversationalist, and the boys really needed that pizza — and you two exchange names, but neither of you expect to see each other again. However, you end up running into each other in the city a lot, particularly at the local Jitter Bean or the scattered NYC pizza places not including Fumo.

You start out as casual friends, often sharing a smoke together (or coffee if you don't smoke) outside and chatting. Frenchie loves art, sociology, and other cultural topics, so you two have very long conversations about any and all of the above. And, similarly to you, Frenchie is very much interested in these without the distractions of pseudo-intellectual academia slop and jargon, so you two hold very interesting conversations.

Probably a month or two after this takes place, he would start developing a lot of interest in you romantically. You're funny, smart, beautiful, and you two definitely share the same sense of humor. He'd start inviting you to simple dates, like watching documentaries in his apartment or getting pizza and cheap wine from a late-night shop.

From the get-go, he wouldn't hide his involvement in dangerous work from you. Honesty and transparency is extremely important to Frenchie, and he believes that, if you two are to pursue a relationship, you should know the shit he's in.

And, you do! It's not the typical roses-and-candles affair, but it's extremely sweet, and it's extremely Frenchie; after a couple months of going out, he flat-out asks if you'd like to be together. When you say yes... queue the biggest, sweetest kiss + embrace ever.

You two have a lot of late-night conversations about philosophical topics, like life, death, forgiveness, and religion. As mentioned, Frenchie is endlessly drawn to your intellect and curiosity, and will gladly sacrifice sleep to be able to hear your input.

Frenchie loves you reading to him, and while he's not the biggest reader (he's more of an art/audio guy), he'll take on even the most difficult books if he knows you like them.

Because of your shared spontaneous nature, expect a lot of fun, random dates, like impromptu museum getaways, thrift shop ventures, and long drives. Frenchie loves showing you his favorite spots in the city, especially at the city limits.

You two are the creative duo, and your relationship will reflect that, with you two often cooking and crafting (he'll make you a cute, raggedy locket to wear) together.

As evident by his friendship with Kimiko, Frenchie is a big pet-name guy, and will call you petit feu (little fire), ma moitié (my other half), and mon rêve (my dream).

Frenchie 100% understands the conflict between head and heart — it's one of his biggest challenges in life — and will always be an ear for you to talk at when it concerns making decisions, figuring out what to do next, etc. While not as much of a small-group person as you, he respects it (Kimiko's the same way), and will go out of his way to make sure wherever you hang out is comfortable.

Early on, Frenchie will introduce you to the coup, which brings us to...

The Boys ☻

Friends

GIF Source: @vcugifs ★ (link)

You and M.M. are the most well-knit in the group. M.M.'s a very, very well-read guy, which is why you start talking; English was his favorite subject in school, and you two both share a certain love of belles-lettres and other literature. After he spots your favorite book in your bag and starts a conversation about it, you two become peas in a pod.

Additionally, you two have a lot in common mentally and emotionally, and you are essentially rocks for each other. You both struggle with balancing rationality and empathy, battling intrusive thoughts, etc., and would always be there for each other. M.M. and you exchange numbers pretty early on, and you can expect a lot of sweet, dad texts from him (you will be blessed with that anxiety-breathing-triangle GIF at least once a week).

Also, don't be fooled by his serious exterior — M.M. is a funny guy, and your senses of humor match up perfectly.

While you and Annie got off to a bit of a rocky start (she can have some difficulty with sarcasm and thought you did not like her ass), you two become extremely close. While you may see her mentally buffer when you make an off-key joke, she'll get it in a few seconds and genuinely laugh. She also isn't extremely familiar with a lot of your interests but loves learning new things, especially since she didn't have the opportunity to go to college and really immerse herself in sociology and the arts, so she loves taking book recommendations from you.

Hughie would be the same, though he'd take better to your humor — the guy's first introduction to the boys was Butcher, so he had to get used to it pretty quickly. He really, really likes you and Frenchie together, and thinks you're a sweetheart.

On the topic of Butcher, you and Butcher wouldn't really mesh at first, but you wouldn't not mesh, either. Butcher isn't the most intellectual guy, so a lot of your fun facts and conversational topics would fly over his head, but once you hang around the boys more, your sense of humor would click with his. Additionally, even if he wouldn't show it often (he's not that type of guy), he appreciates your future-oriented mindset as he tends to be a right-here-right-now person.

And, lastly, Kimiko: Kimiko loves you. Similarly to Annie, it took a bit for her to warm up to you, mainly because she's pretty averse to change and also very shy. However, as you found ways to communicate with her, she'd become enthralled with you. In the Shining Light Liberation Army, Kimiko didn't get any exposure to anything else but the Shining Light Liberation Army, so she is obsessed with your input on the arts and history, and loves to hang out with you. She'd definitely invite you to hang out a lot, particularly at museums and parks.

Honestly, I could see Kimiko forming quite the crush on you, but she'd never interfere with you and Frenchie.

So, girl: you've got a lot of good friends on your side.

[rreskk]

TREVOR PHILIPS EXTENDED ANALYSIS

Trevor Philips…

Drug dealer, “international CEO”, son, brother, friend.

TW: -Self harm -Implied drug use -Childhood abuse

I’ve made a longer analysis of Trevor as a character (THIS ISN’T A FANFICTION). 

ENJOY!

Growing up in the Canadian region border of America, it has been portrayed that he has a complicated history surrounding family and mental illness. While it isn’t exactly proven (unless Trevor stated himself), his childhood had been the possible causes of his later behaviour and long-term issues. As for now, we see it as psychopathy, or as wiki would say “Intermittent Explosive Disorder” (impulsive behaviour and explosive temper that could lead to physical aggression). Others would argue that he suffers from borderline personality disorder, considering his struggle to contain stable relationships and is seen experiencing the main symptoms of what a person of BPD can have.

His childhood consisted of instability, financial stress, emotional damage, and physical abuse. Trevor mentioned his mothers constant absence to Lamar and Franklin during a friendly hangout. -“She came back, she left again, came back, left again…” The repeated cycle of his mother leaving, whether this was earlier or later in his teens, it would show the great affect it had on him, personally. Trevor made it clear about his abandonment issues during the storyline and dialogue. His whole idea of finding Michael was to fulfil the years of being abandoned and alone. Having experienced this instability for his childhood had took a toll on his emotional availability. The cravenness of reassurance, respect, presence, or just staying with him. However, his anger issues would make it harder for him to keep people around.

Trevor has also stated his anger management being poor since the beginning of his time. After having a conversation with Jimmy De Santa, he was asked when he knew what he wanted in life. It’s safe to say he had this psychotic mindset since birth, theoretically the result of his mother’s drug addict and poor lifestyle. -“I was pulling the legs off spiders, and I wanted more. I wanted to kill all the way up to the food chain until I hit top, the human being.” However, when being antagonised about this behaviour, he swiftly blames it on his childhood as Amanda would say: -“God, he is such a turd! That wounded childhood bullshit – we all had had shitty childhoods, you balding lump!” This same coping mechanism from Trevor is seen when being asked about his mother. We all know he has been through some verbal/emotional abuse as for his fear of talking about her. Trevor has never said anything negative about his mother despite complaining about his childhood… If someone dares speak her name, he’ll throw a fit, a rageful rant about respecting his mother, almost protecting the fact that she may be the reason for his tormented soul. The “Mrs Philips” mission towards the end of the game, we can see the emotional abuse he receives without doing anything wrong to deserve her bitterness. The constant insults and belittlement, Betty even demands Trevor to seek her medication and would not let him inside the trailer until it was finished. If this is bad enough during his adulthood, we can’t even imagine the mess he had to deal with during childhood. Nevertheless, his mother issues has inserted a particular taste in women throughout the years. -“Old women are to be cherished!” He'd say during a strangers and freaks mission. His calm behaviour towards Patricia and any lady in general would suggest his utter respect (or secret fear). He craves female attention and a maternal dependence. If we look at this closely, we may understand how the lack of maternal attachment between the first few years of his life (0-5 years) would influence his later decision to grow attachments to the wrong people, and the wrong things. (This is called attachment theory- psychological theory). Trevor’s mother may have missed most of his early childhood for financial gain (her stripping, prostitution, etc), and therefore left Trevor with whoever she had at home, his brother and some of his step-dads. Occasionally he was left alone.

Moving on to his difficult relationship with fathers in general, we can understand that the physical abuse he gets from the men in his past would influence his behaviour to men in the future and present. Trevor had grew up being physically abused and dominated, almost tricking his mind into exacting himself into the repeated cycle, turning into the abuse he got and aims the intensions to weaker men (Ron, Floyd, Wade) to fill in that insecurities he got from his biological and step-fathers. Although a father figure isn’t as important to a maternal figure, it did affect his perspectives and made his anger issues worse, especially (I can’t exactly remember the source) when Trevor’s biological father abandoned him in a shopping mall (that he later burnt down in retaliation). Being let down by many older figures had made him dependent on people in the future, people who have a stand in power with Trevor, someone who is able to balance and handle his anger (Michael and Franklin).

It has also been stated that his brother, Ryan, had died of unnatural causes. Elements of Trevor’s words would convince us that he had something to do with it considering they hadn’t of gotten along well enough… To live. However, there is not much information surrounding his brother during this time.

His education is flawed (dropping out before graduating) and being expelled due to the aggressive nature. Trevor had moved all over Canada and had been switched between care homes, trailers, schools, prisons all throughout growing up. However, he has surprising gains in mathematics and can workout sums within a second, and with full accuracy. Trevor is able to process mathematical problems fast, as Wade would say: -“He’s very good with numbers.” Furthermore, the lack of grammar and overall English makes him improvise during speeches and messages. Trevor always speaks metaphorically, he hyperbolises a lot, uses imaginative scenarios to engage the people around him. (Sometimes manipulating – extremely, to get his point across… even if it doesn’t make sense).

“I was a drifter up by the border, wandering from truck stop to truck stop, recently out of the military… Huffing gas, fucking people over, killing, eating, whatever.” Trevor’s discharge from the military was caused by the detached and restrained relationship with his mother. Psychologically, maternal dependence and relationships determines someone’s emotional strengths and depth… Trevor mentioned during an online heist that the therapist who was determining his worth would constantly try and talk about his mother, resulting in an episode which… Eventually led to his discharge (thanks to his anger issues). His dreams to fly planes would crush and Trevor would be left drifting around the Midwest, utterly defused and emotionally damaged. That’s until he meets Michael, and then Brad.

2004, the prologue. We can consider Trevor’s experience to be titled as “survivors guilt”. His loyalty and partnership with both Michael and Brad was cut off after they both unexpectedly got shot. Trevor lived with the guilt of seeing his best friends die, thinking he could of done something… But Michael had obviously told him to save himself, resulting in the 9 years of isolation and depression. He was unknown of Michael’s plan to escape the criminal aspects, feasting the money for himself, the money Trevor couldn’t access as his identity was blown. Imagining that Trevor had to shave his hair and beard just to pass the radar of his North Yankton wanted posters, he had to skip towns without money, and impressively invested a meth business, earning a good load to make him… Well, wealthy. His mother had been absent for years after being imprisoned (as it was mentioned through story-mode), leaving Trevor to be living in Sandy Shores with a successful rising drug business, but with the shame of his past abandonment and lawful struggles to keep his morality clean… Obviously his modesty being destroyed by the abuse of drugs and alcohol (his damaging coping mechanisms).

Unsuspecting Michael being alive, it was a total shock for him to see the news, a potential copycat… Yet Trevor knew. Trevor’s intuition was strong, always have been strong. Throughout the gameplay, Trevor has odd intelligence and senses. He can tell when something doesn’t fit and he’ll suddenly click. He can understand situations faster than most people. He caught eyes with Davey and he knew him. He first saw Michael after 9 years and knew he was lying. After some convincing… Michael’s denials had led Trevor to realise that Brad’s imprisonment was also a lie. It seems that although Trevor takes on the worse from his experiences, he also earns himself the skill to predict and understand unfolding events. He can attack and approach situations, while impulsively, but effectively.

Further notes: Trevor’s coping mechanisms would include niche drugs, alcohol, sex, pornography, aggression, self-harm, and isolation. He finds himself deeply attached to women in general, often exploiting himself by seeing many prostitutes and masturbating to pornography daily. This would be the result of his mother’s absence and abuse… Nevertheless, he engulfs in self-harm (hitting his head, biting, scratching, etc) as a way to defuse his self-hatred (as he always saw himself as the problem… Thanks to his childhood again). His suicidal tendencies is pretty obvious throughout the gameplay.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (chapter 7)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Minors DNI - no major warnings this time besides some angsty thoughts, mentions of human trafficking, smoking, and swearing

Otherwise, get ready for lots of flirting and banter

Summary: Upon return to the safehouse Rory and Price decide on their next steps to deal with Zorokov and face some of the skeletons in Rory's closet.

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

October 18, 2017 01:30 - Safehouse

Price stood against the frosty window, red flashing neon lights from the hotel sign outside painting streaks along the wall as coils of grey smoke drifted from the end of his cigar he puffed away on, clouds of it billowing from his mouth as he exhaled. Steady, cold eyes stared out from under his furrowed brow as he held his tablet and conversed with Laswell. 

Rory tucked herself on the side of her bed, crossing one leg and folding it under the other as she lit her cigarette and listened to the two of them discuss how the mission had gone so far, the intel they collected, the freedom of the hostages saved, and what the next steps were, all the while feeling like she was a kid in detention. What had happened in that club was not her greatest hour and hardly the defining moment of her career (she hoped for this mission as well). Sure she’d saved the lives of those women, but there was certainly a new form of tension between her and the Captain – one she could have done without. She hadn't come this far in her career to fuck it all up now and get herself chained to a desk from here on. 

“ The laptop was a good find. Searching it now. ” Laswell’s voice filled the small hotel room while Rory held an ice pack to her shoulder, her fingers trembling as they clung to the plastic bag, still feeling the ache from the fight she had been in earlier. She pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled, some of the stress momentarily relieved as she was hit by another dose of nicotine. 

“Went through enough trouble to get it.”

Her ears burned as Price's condemning glare landed on her. Embarrassment and her wounded pride festered inside. For all her skill and her cool, calm demeanour she still fell prey to that part of her that wanted every reminder in her head of that mission removed by any means necessary, even putting herself and others in danger. It was hot-headed and foolhardy, not the move of someone who wanted to be a leader, not the decision someone with her experience should ever make. 

She looked up at the captain just as he turned away, his back facing her and (taking the hint) got up and headed into the bathroom, the toilet lid serving as her seat as she continued icing her aches and pains away. 

Pulling the sweater over her head, slowly rolling the bulk of knitted material off of her torso, she sat there in just the thin material of her bra, letting the shock of freezing ice hit her bare skin. Wincing, Rory bit her lip, exhaling smoke through her nostrils forcefully. The red swelling on her arm and shoulder had already given way to dark blue and purple bruising in tortoiseshell patches along her skin. Deep inside the tender muscle she felt the sting pulsating, the pain hidden far below the surface.

Even with the door shut she could still hear the hoarse whispers of Price from the other room as he continued talking with Laswell. 

“ How’s the sergeant doing? ”

“SRR having her on desk duty might’ve been for good reason. Girl nearly botched the whole damn op.”

Tossing the bag of half melted ice into the sink beside her, Rory continued to smoke, sitting in the flickering fluorescent lights, beating herself up more about what she had done than the Bratva enforcer ever had. It was a nightmare. She had worked rigorously to get to this point in her career, tireless in her efforts. This was her shot to impress a special forces officer with her skills that could get her back out into the field and instead she was letting the shit that resided in the back of her head take the lead. She was better than all this. He had every right to say that about her. The situation only stung more knowing that this was all some vain attempt to prove that she wasn’t that twenty three year old corporal in the bathroom stall anymore, that she wasn’t young and impulsive, that she had changed. 

Her hand shook as she held the cigarette, the ash falling off the end as she rubbed at her tired eyes. Saving those girls was the right move, it was the only move. It was the one her mother would have wanted her to make. Fighting for something that was right. Doing a little good to make up for all the bad she had done. That was the kind of person she had been raised as. The kindness of the ‘Lamb’, a direct result of her upbringing under the gentle wing of a woman who had always put others first before herself. Not the violent thing she had been trained to become, forced to morph into in order to survive in a cruel and unforgiving world filled with enemies. 

“Thought you said she had experience with this sort of thing?”

“ She does . Plenty .”

More experience than Rory cared to admit, than her record would allow to show. Redactions upon redactions and black ink that hid all the things that had been asked of her. Things she willingly did. For the greater good. 

Price grunted, “At least she can fight.”

That felt more like a sucker punch to the gut than a compliment. The reason she was sure the SRR had recruited her. Tired and worn out, bi-weekly visits to the therapist, pills to help her sleep – but at least she could fight. At least she had experience. At least she knew just how fucked the world was. How corrupt and fallible the system was, how rules were made to be broken just like people. They couldn’t lose that, could they? Her skills, her achievements, they were useful even as her hands shook. She could turn off her morality because someone with more patches and medals on their uniform told her so. At least she could fight. 

“ The intel you found, it's a rabbit hole, John. Just when we think we've found the bottom another trail opens. This goes deep and Zorokov's name keeps popping up all along the way .”

“Any other names stickin’ out?”

“ Yeah , hold on a minute .” Laswell cut off for a moment, leaving Rory in the silence of the bathroom as she sucked on the filter of her cigarette and breathed in the burning sensation of smoke that charred every branch of her lungs. “ Abdullah Al Ghulam. He's apparently under protection. An asset. Was supposed to be keeping his nose clean in Dubai .”

She froze. God, that name would never stop haunting her . Just when she thought one door to her memory closed, another was kicked wide open. Crushing the cigarette butt into the sink, she walked back into the room as she pulled her sweater on carefully, trying not to agitate her shoulder further. Not bothering to wait for the captain’s reaction to her return before speaking, “Al Ghulam never should have been given protection. My squad should have taken him out in Syria when we had the chance.”

Price looked up from his tablet, his eyes burning into her. “Pardon?”

Pulling at the thick fibres hanging loosely around her waist, straightening out the sweater to lay flat, Rory continued, “Abdullah Al Ghulam. The black mission before my transfer. That was who my squad was sent to intercept. He was an arms dealer assisting the insurgency in Iraq.”

“ You’ve dealt with him before? Why wasn’t he removed ?” Laswell asked, a flurry of keystrokes audible from her end. 

“The CIA officer we were working with had orders to keep him alive.”

“Of course,” Price groaned.

Laswell’s voice came through once more. “ Who was the officer on that mission, Sergeant? ”

“Officer Roger Walker.”

“ I’ve had dealings with him ,” Laswell replied with a heavy sigh. 

“He’s a charming fellow.” The venom in Rory’s voice wasn’t lost on anyone. 

“ I’ll look into his mission report for that op, see what I can dig up. Might give us some more fuel for the fire. Meanwhile –”

“Meanwhile, Zorokov is still making deals and walking around a free man,” Price interjected.

“ He’s still our priority here, getting to him is imperative. With the trace we have working we know there’s a meeting coming up between him and a few of his connections. Has it marked in the calendar as ‘Helios’ at nine pm on the 25th. From what I can tell, it’s a nightclub. Apparently it's the home for many of his dealings, out of the sight of prying eyes while under everyone’s nose .”

Price rolled his eyes to look up at the ceiling, visibly unimpressed with the thought of having to go to another club. “Christ,” he rasped.

“Relax, sir. You can’t go in there anyway, Zorokov’s probably already been made aware of you.” Rory looked at him with a smirk. “Besides, we both know you don’t like the music.” Rather than focus on her mistakes, she couldn’t help but make light of the situation, anything to make her feel a little less like a ball and chain that Price was forced to drag around. 

Lifting his brow, the corners of Price's mouth just starting to curl. “So what, you’re offering to go in my stead? If he knows about me, he’s going to know you too – especially after your little jailbreak.”

She let the jab roll off her back like water. “Maybe. That’s a risk we’ll have to take. If anyone’s going to be able to get close to him, it’s me. No matter how well guarded a man thinks he is, when it comes to women, the brain might not be the one in control.”

The pause afforded between them was thick, that awkward elephant in the room still swaying its trunk. Professionalism was a tactful barrier keeping them from doing something they might regret. The rosy blush on Price’s cheeks faded while a grimace crept back up his face, the little flexes in each of his features letting her know something wasn’t sitting right with him even as he tried to remain stony.

“And considering Al Ghulam is tied up into this as well, there’s a friend of mine who I think could help,” Rory continued. 

“A friend?” His brow rose. His body, a wall of muscle, stiffened.

“An MI6 agent. Andrew Owen.”

He sneered at the thought. “I don’t like to work with people I’ve never met before. I need to be able to trust who I’ve got covering my six. Not the biggest fan of intelligence personnel either – no offence, Kate.”

“ None taken. ”

Rory crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re working with me.” She tipped her head to the side and stared him down in a challenge. 

For all intents and purposes, Price really didn’t know her other than in the biblical sense. He might have picked around in her head a little, barely scraping the surface, but he had an opinion of her now even if it wasn’t the full picture. He failed to remember she was also military intelligence. She might have screwed up her last shot, but this was an opportunity to save her bacon, to prove her skills in another capacity. Deep recon .

“That's different.”

“Is it?” She didn't see how.

Ignoring her question completely, Price continued, “How do you plan on getting to Zorokov? Gonna start more trouble?” He eyed her up and down with a low hum. 

Rory smiled and dropped her hands to her hips, her confidence spilling over in the moment, reminding the captain of the pretty woman who had once grabbed his attention five years ago. “Just have to use my feminine wiles and sweet talk the prick, yeah?” She said with a simple shrug of her shoulder and a flutter of her lashes. 

“You’re willing to be bait?” 

Her eyes never left his gaze, pumping herself up on the inside, refusing to back down. “I know what my strengths are.” 

Price’s eyes roamed over her once more, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. She was sure he was picturing how she had looked that night in the bar, the woman he had been seduced by. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to catch his attention.” His eyes seemed to twinkle at her as he said it, the smirk on his face causing the lines on his face to crinkle as he gave a quick little thrust of his pelvis and bounced on his heels. 

Rory rolled her eyes and huffed quietly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t try and chat me up in Russian.”

“If he does, you can always just smile and nod – he’d probably like that.” He paused and his grin got wider. “Just open with that posh girl accent you’ve built up and I’m sure he’ll have no problem usin’ the Queen’s English with ya.”

“Oh, cheers.” She couldn’t help but laugh as he took the piss out of her.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Sergeant.” He spoke with a warm rumble, softening up to her. “You certainly sound more English than the first time I met you, can hardly tell you’re even Canadian anymore.”

“Yeah, well, time’ll do that to a person.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his head to meet her eye line, his voice quieter. “It suits you.”

Rory cocked her brow, taken aback by the compliment given out of the blue. Her lips parted, eyes widening. Doe-like . “Really?”

“Yeah. I like it.” 

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, her jaw clenching tight. Not sure how to take it. It was just a little too friendly. He seemed a little too comfortable being playful with her now, even with Laswell on the line listening in, especially after the way she had acted earlier.

“Right,” he ran a hand through his hair and dropped his eyes from her to return to his tablet. Putting on the airs of the stoic captain once more. “Get in touch with Owen. We’ll start working on getting you nice and personal with Zorokov.”

“ Good luck out there. The both of you. ”

“Thanks, Kate.” He ended the call with Laswell and looked over at Rory once more, pausing to size her up. “You sure you’re ready for this? Going in undercover?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.” Sliding her hands over her hips, she rested them in the back pockets of her jeans. Casual . Hoping she appeared relaxed. 

“This isn’t like recon out in the field though, is it? You’d be up close. On your own. I can’t have your switch flipping.”

“I’m aware. I know that this is our best chance of getting to him, nabbing him and interrogating him.” Her eyes fell as her mouth drew into a straight line, she knew how easily this situation could make her flip. “I’ll deal with the personal shit.”

Heaving out a sigh, Price bit his lip. “Contact your mate, get him out here, soon as,” he ordered, pointing his finger at her as he did so. “The quicker we can get the hell out of this shithole, the better.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Crossing the room, he walked over to his bed and tossed the tablet into his duffel. Stretching his neck from side to side as he sat down, he finished smoking the last of his cigar, his impenetrable gaze shifting sideways as he kept her in his periphery. 

Rory dug into her bag and pulled out her cellphone, scrolling through her list of contacts before her thumb hovered over her old lieutenant’s name. She always knew letting Al Ghulam go into CIA hands was the wrong decision, it was a little too late to say ‘I told you so’, but she might finally get some closure on an old scar and it would be nice to do so with an old friend at her side, someone who knew just how bad the bastard was.

The dial tone in her ear rang several times before Andrew answered, his smile apparent in his voice. “ Sinclair! ”

She paced along the floor beside her bed, a few steps to the left and then back to the right, glancing up every now and again to notice Price still watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Andy, I need you.”

“ Say no more, darling. What do you need? ”

Her thumb had drifted up towards her mouth and her nail sat between her teeth. “Working an op –”

“ You’re out in the field again? ”

The concern in his voice, she could hear it plain as day. Andrew had been the only person she could really talk to about what she had seen because he had lived it too. He knew just how badly it had affected her. The nightmares. The tremors. He was the only one with the clearance to know, not to mention the threat that still loomed over her from Walker about wiretapping. Even if she wanted to tell her father about what had happened to his only daughter, she couldn’t. All she had was Andy.

“Yeah. Russia.”

“ Jesus, you’re a ways from home. ”

Price stared at her from over his shoulder and she had to avert her eyes, going back to pacing in front of the bed. “Can’t go into full details but I need you to do a little shopping for me before you meet me here. And I need you to bring a very easily concealable wire with you.”

“ Consider me intrigued .”

“Going in undercover. Need to catch some prey. It requires using some… assets .”

“ Showing a little leg for a cause? ”

Her smirk grew. “I trust your judgement, Andy.”

“ You might regret saying that .” His laugh was warm and genuine, he’d never been above teasing her with playful banter.

“Shut it,” she said with a laugh. “Need you out this way ASAP.”

“ I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail .” Rory rolled her eyes. “ Text me your measurements, yeah? ”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you details in a bit. Just hurry up.”

“ See you soon .”

Upon hanging up her phone she noticed the way Price’s eyes seemed to have narrowed, the crow's feet by his eyes creasing further. “It’s late. We should get some rest.” With that, he stood up and moved for the bathroom. 

She would be lucky if sleep came to her tonight.  

---

It had started to rain in the early morning hours, droplets spilling down the single glass pane cutting long streaks through the frost that clung to the window, the red neon lights filtering through and creating bubbled patterns on the wall. Rory sat wearing little besides a tee shirt and her panties on the radiator looking out the window, cracked open just enough to let a cold breeze through the room. Slipping a cigarette from the pack, she lit it and inhaled deeply while closing her eyes, breathing in the nicotine and the night. Running her fingers through her hair, she brushed the dark tresses over to part on the opposite side. 

Lost in the haze of smoke that surrounded her head, she was startled by John’s gruff voice, made thicker by the sleep he’d just stirred from. “You’re awake?” Rubbing at his beard, he rolled over in his bed to sit on the side of it, wearing only his boxer briefs as his steely gaze bore into her from the dark as he watched her. “What’re you doin’ up?”

She took another drag of her cigarette before looking at him, exhaling out a stream of smoke like a chimney. "Can't sleep. It's not a rare thing for me."

Stretching out his back with a groan, he continued to watch her. "Somethin’ bothering you, Sergeant?"

"Not particularly,” she hummed. “Suppose it's just a good night for a smoke."

He chuckled and got up, grabbing his own cigar and lighter from his bedside table. "Mind if I join you?"

“Like I could stop you,” she said with a smirk, her gaze traveling with him as he took a spot near her on the wall by the window. It was the first time she had really been given the chance to see him in all his glory. Even when they had been together five years ago, they were both at least partially dressed. Seeing him like this was rather eye opening and Rory couldn’t help but take in all the sights along Price’s body. Every scar, each freckle, the hair that carpeted his chest, trailing down his stomach, and covered his muscular limbs. 

"You’d be surprised." He smirked as he caught her eyes roaming over him, but he didn’t bring attention to it, rather basking in it instead. “New habit?”

“This?” Rory motioned with the cigarette in her hand. “God, no.” She laughed quietly and took another drag from it. "Been smoking these since I was 16. Used to sneak out to the pitch behind the school with my mates for a fag and watch the lads play footie."

"You rebel," John said with another chuckle. Lifting his lighter to the tip of his cigar, he let the flame dance against it until it began to smoke, burning in the dark.

"I’m surprised you didn’t taste it on my breath before." She tapped her cigarette ashes out the window and stared at the orange glow across from her, like a moth to a flame she felt drawn to him.

“I haven’t tasted much in years,” he said, chomping down on his cigar, letting the smoke billow from his nostrils. 

She giggled quietly and her eyes rose to watch the embers at the end of the cigar burning with the same vigor as the ones that had begun to flicker in her gut. Her mouth suddenly went dry, finding it difficult to swallow. Her breath hitching as her mind tried to process the thoughts that didn’t revolve around the handsome man that stood before her. When she finally gained some clarity of thought between puffs of her cigarette, her smile faded as she spoke, "There is something, Captain."

"'Course."

His voice was gravelly at this time of night, and as he came to lean against the wall beside the window with his shoulder, drawing himself a little closer towards her, she seemed to find it hard to ask the question that she’d been carrying for some time. 

"Why was I the one chosen for this mission?"

"You'd have to ask Laswell that one," he said with a grumble.

Warm hazel eyes tried to read his expression as shadows streaked across his face. “You didn't have a hand in it at all?"

"Not a one. Scout's honor,” he said with a nod. “Trust me, seeing you board that helo was one hell of a shock to me too."

A smile broke out across her face. "Liar. You didn't even know it was me." She tapped her cigarette ashes out the window and smirked around it as she brought it back to sit between her lips.

He flexed his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe not right away. You’d cut your hair and your accent’s gotten thicker too, but the moment I heard you say Rory, well , then it all clicked into place."

“Oh, did it now?” She’d forgotten how very little she was wearing until the moment she noticed his eyes wander up the length of her legs, a hint of desire in his gaze before meeting hers with a warm glint. Pulling down on the hem of her shirt – what little good it did – she stared back at him. “We’re supposed to be professionals, remember ?”

His eyes flitted away from her, pulling the cigar from his mouth to blow out a plume of smoke. “Forgive me, Sergeant. There’s only so much a man can take before his body betrays his will.”

“You have been doing a very good job considering we’ve been trapped together like this. I’ll give you that.”

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her as best he could. Rubbing at his neck as he tried to change subjects. “Back there…seeing that side of you...the knife.”

The cigarette in her mouth glowed as she inhaled with a heavy breath, sighing out the stream of smoke. “I’m not particularly fond of having to be like that. I do what I have to. Intimidation, fear – they’re good weapons. But I’m not some sadist, I don’t enjoy it.”

“Wasn’t going to say that you do. You don’t stay a soldier for as long as we have without getting your hands dirty. I’m no innocent here myself.”

Tapping her cigarette out the opening once more, she leaned back against the window frame and closed her eyes taking a deep breath before returning the cigarette to her lips. “Getting my hands dirty…I know all about that.” She huffed out a laugh and took the cigarette from her mouth before resting her hands on her knees, the smoke trailing in wisps up from the cigarette’s ashy tip. “The mission I worked before this, the one that got me transferred. Al Ghulam . It was supposed to just be the usual joint CIA mission tracking weapon shipments.” A tremor shook through hand and she was quick to start rubbing at her knuckles, trying to work out the ghosts that seemed to haunt her nerves below. “I don’t know where the intel went wrong, but we stumbled upon something else instead.” She paused and pressed her forehead to the cold glass beside her. Her stare blank as she looked down at the street below. Her voice a quiet whisper as it cracked. “Human trafficking ring. I’ll never forget seeing women and children being penned like animals, bought and sold like property. Starving…Treated like dog shit.”  

He pulled the cigar from his mouth, his brow furrowed as he stared at her, muttering a hushed “Jesus” under his breath.

“These bastards trade them like they’re on the fucking stock exchange.” She blinked several times and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry if I went off the rails back there. I just –” She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair again. “Knowing the absolute lows of humanity isn’t something I can always keep locked in the vault, you know?” Looking up at him, Rory lifted her brow, hoping they might come to some sort of understanding.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t follow orders and that I acted on my own accord. I wouldn’t be like that for any other reason. It won’t happen again, Captain.” She gave him a soft grin, placating him.

Taking another long drag of his cigar, he blew smoke and sighed. “See that it doesn’t. We’re here to get intel to fight a war, Sinclair. Not get revenge. I don’t need you actin’ like a fuckin’ muppet on my watch.”

Cracking a wide grin, a laugh leaked out of her against her will. “I deserve that.”

“Goddamn right you do.” His teasing smirk returned, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling. “But considering the shit you’ve seen I'm surprised you can even crack a bloody grin at all.”

Rory shrugged, tipping her head to the side, feeling vulnerable for just a brief moment. “That's just life though, isn't it? It's the fucking pits, and then we die, and that's that. No point letting it ruin what bit of good there is.”

His brow knit together, but he kept his cocky grin as he continued to look at her. Not adding to her discussion, instead appearing as though he was debating something in his head, the cogs spinning behind his eyes.

Basking in the red neon light, she smiled softly at him. “You're looking at me like I've just grown an extra head, John.”

“ John ? We're back to a first name basis, eh?”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” 

“Not exactly professional, is it?” He lowered his head and looked up at her through his raised brow, the lines in his forehead creasing. A spark in his self-assured stare.

“No, I suppose not.”

“You s'pose right.” He stubbed out his cigar on the windowsill. “Get some sleep, Sinclair.” He patted her leg with his large, rough hand and then moved back to his bed. 

The warmth from where he had touched her lingered, her fingers grazing over where his calloused hand had been as if she could still feel him there. Her ogle followed him as he settled back into his bed, spending just a little too long focusing on his body. 

Fuck. 

She was falling despite herself. 

[lilbadgyu]

Anchor: 김민규

Anchor by Novo Amor

Seventeen Master List

Warnings: none

Word Count: 476

Stupid necklaces tangling together and its overwhelming hard until someone comes to help you

it was late, you wanted to get to sleep but the feeling of your necklaces being a mess was stopping you. mingyu was downstairs, cleaning up the rest of the dishes. he insisted that you went up to get ready for bed as he cleaned up. you tried to untangle your necklaces while they were on your neck, but it just felt like it was getting worse. one of them was just a simple necklace, but the other one was the necklace that mingyu gave you when you first met. it meant a lot to you, and so this whole situation was stressing you out.

it was 2 am, almost 3 am, this was the last thing you wanted to deal with at this time. a frustrated sigh escaped and you ended up throwing your necklaces on the bed, at the same time mingyu came up the stairs, and into the room, “whoa whoa slow down there pro mlb pitcher,” mingyu chuckled, “what’s wrong?”

“my necklaces are tangled.” you answered, rubbing your face with your hands trying to calm down.

mingyu held out his hand, and you grabbed your necklaces from the bed. you handed them over and mingyu walked over to lay down; gesturing you to follow him. you put you’re head on his chest while you watched his hands untangle the chains calmly; making you wonder how he could do it without frustration. “why are we dealing with this at 2am?” mingyu question with a smile.

“because i was wearing them and they got all wrapped up, and it became too much.” you answered, playing with the charm on his necklace.

as you two laid there, you felt your body begin to calm down; making you feel tired. it was the effect from laying next to mingyu, it always felt so nice. “i bet you’re tired too, that’s why you were getting so frustrated.” mingyu said softly.

you nodded, feeling a soft kiss on the top of your head. all the frustration you had from the necklaces was basically gone, something about mingyu calmed you down within a second of him being in the room.

as mingyu untangled them, he hummed you a song in his head; making you half asleep from the vibrations of his chest. you could feel his arm movements lessen as he reached the end of the chains, finally having them apart. “i’m going to put them on my side table, okay?” mingyu said quietly.

you felt mingyu move a bit to put them up, but them back to where he was.

usually one of the necklaces gave you ease to sleep, it being the one mingyu gave you, but with mingyu around you really didn’t need it.

it was almost as if mingyu was your anchor, he brought you back down to earth every time.

—-

AN: i thought i’d add what i had written down and update it to make it longer! i hope it’s a lot better than before 💛

[fang-and-feather]

Star-Crossed Myth - Karno x Goddess Reader - Soulmates AU

Words: 908

Prompt(s): Wish from Fluffbruary alternate prompts from @fluffbruary

Summary: After years of managing both duties, Leon finally decided to step down from his position as Minister of Wishes, leaving Karno to deal with a new recruit. Karno is not looking forward to this, but Leon is convinced that finally meeting you will change his mind.

Tags: First Meeting, Post Leon's Route

Next Chapter / Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3

Karno didn’t like his ability. He didn’t think it could be useful until he found out at least one thing he could do with it. Support his soulmate.

He hadn’t met her yet, although sometimes he wished he could, but their link made him capable of feeling good emotions coming from her, and he realized his powers could be used to amplify these feelings in hope they would last longer.

Not that she needed him to. She seemed like such a happy goddess, but sometimes these feelings reached him weakly, and he was glad to help at these times.

And he figured she helped him, too. It didn’t happen as often these days, but whenever he was worried or stressed or just overwhelmed, usually by some problem with work, there was this unexpected sweet scent that helped him relax.

Not that knowing that about her powers helped him find her.

The past few days had been like that. He could feel the rise and fall of her excitement before he decided to intervene. And she answered to his worries, helping him feel better in turn.

And at the moment, he wished he could amplify his own positive feelings about the work matter he had to face later, but he had none.

Leon had decided to step down from his position as minister of the department, and the job now fell on him. But Karno didn’t feel fit for the job, no matter how much hope Leon had in him.

Besides that, Leon had chosen someone else to fill the hole left in the department. Although he had taken that action while he was still minister, he stepped down soon after, and the responsibility over this recruit fell entirely on Karno.

Of course it was his decision to approve the new person or not, but he trusted Leon’s judgment. He wouldn’t have hand-picked someone completely unfit for the job. What Karno didn’t like was the way Leon grinned after telling him, adding that this meeting might be good to him.

“Are you still worried about that?” Leon walked into the office.

“I don’t think any of us were ready for this change. We thought you would stay as minister.”

“Do you doubt my judgement? If you don’t want the job, you and Hue can switch positions. And if the problem is the recruit, I already said the approval is up to you. Although I have the authority to, I won’t interfere.”

“I don’t doubt you. I don’t like it, but I have no doubt you made the choices you thought would be better for the department.”

“Then I don’t know why you are worried. This will be good for you.” Leon turned to leave, but stopped, and his next words were not directed to Karno. “And you’re here on time. Don’t disappoint me.”

The person didn’t respond, but Karno knew it was the recruit, even before Leon left and she knocked on the door, despite it being open.

“Come in.” He called. “Just give me a minute to finish these papers.”

“Excuse me.” A feminine voice answered politely.

A goddess was not what he expected. It was more than he wanted to deal with if he was being honest. He couldn’t think he could trust Teo around a woman at all, and whether he could or not trust Lou was up for debate. And considering he already wouldn’t trust her introduction to the job to Aigo, that meant the task would be left for either him or Hue.

His thoughts were interrupted by a snap, followed by the sweet, calming scent from his soulmate’s powers.

He turned to finally face you, who looked shocked by the chain of events, but slowly he felt a wave of happiness through your link.

You noticed he was looking and blushed, but took a deep breath and tried to keep your composure, but apparently failed by the way you looked away.

“Lord Karno. Can I ask an impertinent question?” You looked back with hesitation.

“Go ahead.”

“Is this why I was invited to this interview?”

“No. Leon no doubt knew who you were when he first saw you, but he would never offer such an important position to someone he didn’t find capable.” You nodded and all your hesitancy seemed to disappear. “And neither am I welcoming you because of that, nor will I treat you any differently. I will trust Leon’s judgment on your abilities, and expect you to report to me in the morning to start your work.”

“Yes, lord Karno.” You bowed to him.

“And you don’t need all this formality, even at work. You are one of us now.” He smiled. You looked surprised, but smiled back and nodded.

“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“Then welcome to the Department of Wishes…”

You told him your name, and he repeated it slowly, then welcomed you properly.

“Now, since we are done here, do you have any other compromise?”

“No. Why?”

“I would like a date to get to know my soulmate.” He approached and took your hand.

Your smile grew as you intertwined your fingers.

“I would be happy to. I would love to know you too.”

Karno couldn’t believe you had been brought to him in such a way. That his wish would be realized due to his work. It would be strange to work with his soulmate, but he was determined to make both relationships work.

Tag List: @imhereforscm, @juliettebbgamer

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

Next Chapter / Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist

[spacebugarts]

Hey! You should tell us about your werewolf karate boys au!

While answering this ask I realized there's no way to talk about this au without writing out an entire plot summary of the fic I'm writing which would kida defeat the purpose of writing it so, uhh... I'll shorten it the best I can? Probably still gonna be a bit long so I'll put it under a cut

Johnny gets bit by a werewolf on the way back from the All Valley (bc that night was already so bad for him why not make it worse?) and basically entirely rejects the suggestion that it could've been a werewolf bc

It wasn't a full moon

He was probably seeing things bc he was so stressed and very injured, it was probably just like. A dog or something

He's had bad sensory days before and yeah this is worse but like its not abnormal (autistic Johnny my beloved <3)

Werewolves aren't real

Tommy continues to believe he's turning into a werewolf bc its Tommy, he's chaotic and stubborn, and Bobby continues to try finding a reasonable explanation bc he's the only one with a braincell, while Dutch and Jimmy are just here to make jokes and be idiots about it.

Over winter break Johnny starts convincing himself it was nothing, but then the first full moon hits and the guys need to try and keep him from going feral with very little success, but eventually they manage to pin him down and he wakes up chained to a tree with a vague recollection of what happened and a very bad headache. Eventually school comes back and he has to figure out how to deal with being a werewolf when he has to spend so much time in close proximity to the boy that publicly humiliated him and for some reason his wolf senses seem particularly attuned to... its probably because he hates him right? Yeah, totally (hint hint nudge nudge)

Well eventually Johnny realizes he probably won't get anywhere trying to control himself if he doesn't confront things head on and get some help staying calm, and the only person that can help with that is... *sigh* Daniel. He starts doing some training with him, learning how to control his anger with kata and other calming exercises, and eventually he realizes he actually... doesn't hate him? And also Mr. Miyagi keeps looking at him and acting weird and holy shit does he know something? He knows something doesn't he?

Idk where I'll go from that point, I might get into the actual KK2 plotline and have Johnny go to Okinawa with them, but I know I want him to expose himself at some point trying to protect Daniel, which would be easier to add with the plot of the second movie than to create another threat for him to fight off, idk tho. Definitely want Miyagi to know things tho lol

So yeah thats the au as it stands so far, I just gotta... put it into words in a way that's less scattered lol

[klarolineashur1919]

Only We Matter Series

Part 10

January 3,1926

Our Vendetta

Penelope pov

At least one thing stayed the same.

Well when wine was involved at least.

He was the same type of lover with me.

We danced together like we used to.

We danced all the way to the bed.

He was same as he was years ago gentle and passionate.

How much I really missed the feel of him, he'll never know.

He looked so different in this bed than out of it.

Almost the same as he did years ago, his hair gel wore off and his hair was no longer slick back. All his features were softer. His face was calm and didn't look so focused except on me. We held each other, stared into each other eyes. He looked like he still loved me but it was such a sadder look than before. His eyes traveled from my face to my neck, where I still wore my engagement ring on a chain.

"Anyone else propose to you while I was gone" Luca said jokingly even though he always knew that he wasn't the only man that persued me but he was secure in knowing that I only had eyes for him.

"Actually that was something I came here to talk to you about" I started to lean up against the headboard as he didn't look worried at all more of intrigued.

"Tommy has made an alliance with the Golds, they're a bunch of cutthroat horse thieves but they're killers and that's what Tommy wants killers. The leader of the gang Aberama Gold has a son about my age, they made me part of the deal" Luca's eyes went cold and dazed.

"Well thats just more people I have to kill" He nonchalantly as he got up from the bed.

"That's it" I say not knowing why I expected something different.

"What do you want me to say Pen? Do you want me to go into some jealous rage....over some boy" he chuckled darkly as he threw a toothpick in his mouth.

"I don't know" I said in lifeless type of way. His face that went dark for a moment went soft again. He sat on the edge of the bed this time, the side of his face facing me.

"You know you don't have to stay here when all of this is going on..I could have you go to Italy..Paris or America, wherever you want I'll make it happen baby" he turned his face towards me almost pleading. He didn't want me to stay here and watch him murder my entire family. I just looked at him and it reminded me of my Luca from before all of this.

"You could go to Naples, or New York...I think you'd like New York better it's busy and always different with things going on. It's not like this shithole. You never belonged here" He always used to say that. That I never belonged in Birmingham. Maybe I didn't..Maybe I did.

"Penelope say something" he grabbed me by the arms and sneezed gently.

"I can't leave" I said simply and as he let me go with a very Italian sounding groan. He hung his head for a second but looked back up at me.

"Why?" He said with a mixture of emotions.

Annoyance, frustration, confusion and sadden.

"Because I won't leave you here alone." I lean closer to him, resting my forehead on the top of his shoulder.

"If you stay..you're going to see what I have to do. I'm gonna make them suffer Penelope" he said with no regret but honestly. Not happily maybe some slight anger in his voice but no joy in it. Just what has to be done..

"Good... Make them suffer...how we suffered. When we were tore apart, our happiness ruined..our baby dead"I let out a soft sob remembering my miscarriage when Tommy announced the war against the Changretta's. The stress, the sorrow, the anger of all the stupidity and recklessness of it killed our baby.

"M-make them pay..I-I w-want them to pay" I cried and Luca pulled me close to him.

It was true. I wanted them to pay. I was so angry at them for what they've done.

But they were my family and I loved them...

But Luca was in the right. Luca had the right to start this Vendetta.

It wasn't just his Vendetta.

It was our Vendetta.

Taglist:

@leahnicole1219

[kuroosdumbslut]

Can you write something that you want? Maybe something from Naruto ? Thank you ❤️

// Thank you so much for the request! I’ve been feeling a bit down lately, so I made a little hurt/comfort thing for this! I hope you enjoy it regardless :)  tw: mental health talk, smoking, hurt/comfort//

It wasn’t like you smoked regularly. If anything, it was a crutch for stressful days and traumatic events. That being said, today was an absolute bitch of a day to deal with. You and Shikamaru had previously made plans to just hang out for the evening with Ino and Choji, but as you sat outside on the deck, you realized you’d been out here for much longer than you expected to be. You still couldn’t bring yourself to care, though. Thoughts of exams and other…more personal problems still bounced around your head, and with a resigned sigh, you pulled another cigarette out of the pack and lit it, holding your suddenly heavy head with your free hand. The rain was pelting the metal roof about you, luckily not touching your cigarette, and reflected your general mood at the moment.

At that moment, the door slid open and Shikamaru silently sat beside you, pulling out a cigarette of his own. “Shit. I left my lighter inside…could I borrow yours?” Silently, you passed him your lighter and offered it to him, which he used before passing it back. For a few moments, it was silent. Just you and Shikamaru silently puffing at your cigarettes. Of course, you knew it would be broken soon enough. “So, what’s got you chain smoking out here instead of chilling inside?” You shrugged and looked around lazily, half trying to avoid his gaze and half to busy your mind a bit. “I guess it’s just…I feel out of place sometimes, y’know? Like…Like I know I have to and maybe should be here, but other times… I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here and if I’m actually helpful or not.”

Shikamaru looked at you in confusion. “Well, I can tell you for certain that you are absolutely helpful. And, if it means anything, you aren’t as bothersome as some of the other people around. Don’t get me wrong, love my team and all but holy shit it gets exhausting sometimes.” You chuckled a bit and leaned back on your free hand. “Well, thank you. I guess it’s just been a bit rough upstairs.” Shikamaru hummed, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I think we all get that sometimes. You have plenty of reason to, though, I know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you had disappeared for nearly three weeks only to appear again with much paler skin and eye bags. No offence, of course.” You laughed and nodded along, taking a slow puff. “Alright, you got me there. Did you ever realize what had happened that time?” Shikamaru shook his head, looking at you and offering you an encouraging grin. “Not really. I had theories, but I didn’t want to assume anything.” You nodded and sighed a bit. “Well, to tell the truth, that was…I was in the hospital under observation for those three weeks. I was, uh… I couldn’t be fully alone, and I knew that, so I checked myself in for a bit.” Shikamaru’s grin fell a bit and he scooted closer.

“I was worried it would be something along those lines, but I’m glad you at least realized it before…you know.” You nodded and gave in to him proximity, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I didn’t want to worry anyone, so I just disappeared to make it easier for myself.” Shikamaru finished off his cigarette and put it out in the nearby ashtray, you doing the same a few moments later and settling back against him. “Thanks for hearing me out.” Shikamaru hummed and turned his head to press a gentle, lingering kiss into your hair. “I’m always here for you, you know? No matter what.” You smiled and closed your eyes. In that moment, your mind slowed down and let you breathe. The world felt much more calm and manageable, and for that moment, you were content.

[spell-cleaver]

Whumptober No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

Read it instead on AO3 or on FFN!

“Sir, may I remove—”

“Denied.”

Skywalker smirked. “Are you afraid that the moment I take these binders off I’ll garrotte you with them?”

Doctor Cohl sighed. Piett tried to ignore his disapproving look and continued stand sharply to attention in the corner of Skywalker’s cell, watching both his medic and his prisoner with a viciously trained eye. He also tried to ignore the fact that was exactly the image that had run through his head when he envisioned unbinding Skywalker.

“Good,” Cohl said gently as Skywalker completed the stretch he’d demonstrated. “Now try this one.”

Skywalker winced as he shifted but followed the instructions he was being given. The exercise mat that had been relocated to Skywalker’s cell—Piett had been against it; it was against regulation, since the prisoner could suffocate themselves to death with it if needed, robbing the Empire of their intelligence—held the indents of his knees even as he shifted to the new stretch. His hamstrings quivered, shoulders taut, at the effort of keeping that position.

Lord Vader had been most excited when he discovered that one of their onboard medics had originally trained as a physiotherapist. Skywalker had been kept on the Avenger, chained to the wall standing up in a cell too short for him, for days before he got there. His muscles had already started to show the beginnings of wear and tear.

“I can barely stand, Admiral,” Skywalker said. “My muscles have atrophied.”

He was useless to Lord Vader like this, Piett knew. Therefore, this physiotherapy was mandatory for him to recover. Skywalker was eerily calm about it all, considering how slippery he’d been in the past.

“It’s called resignation. And doing a deal—”

How Lord Vader intended to use Skywalker, Piett did not know, but it was not his place to question it. He was a terrorist. The methods that Captain Needa—no, Captain Gil; Piett kept forgetting that Needa had been executed for his abhorrent failure—had used were extreme but justified. If they had not been so rigorous in containing him, Skywalker would undoubtedly have escaped yet again.

Furthermore, he could understand the vengeful urge. He himself was not pleased that Vader had put aside such lavish quarters for Skywalker, to transfer him to once Lord Vader was back on the Executor and could supervise these physiotherapy sessions himself; it stank of bribery. They should not need to give an enemy of the Empire a single thing. He deserved nothing. But again, it was not his place to question it.

“Wow,” Skywalker said. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”

Piett ignored him.

“You’re right, though. The Empire doesn’t think it’s anyone’s place to question anything, does it?”

“It is certainly not yours,” Piett said primly.

Skywalker disrespected him, all his hard work, the Empire’s blood, sweat and tears, Lord Vader, and Emperor Palpatine himself when he snorted.

“Good.” Skywalker shifted to another position at Cohl’s instructions, letting his hands mould his body into the pose. When he let go, Skywalker held his position for several seconds, before collapsing onto the mat.

“Careful.” Cohl held out a hand to steady him. Skywalker’s hands were still bound behind him; he couldn’t steady himself in such a precarious stretch. “Admiral, I really must ask—”

“Denied. You may not remove his binders, doctor.”

“Having his arms behind his back for so long will only cause similar damage in his shoulders.”

“I am not concerned with damage. I am concerned with him escaping.”

“Sir, this is torture.”

Interrogation and persuasive techniques were necessary for the strength and maintenance of the Empire. But medics were usually too soft to understand that. Spines of steel, they certainly had, but they did not have the iron-hearted will to do what was necessary.

Skywalker snorted again. “And you do?”

“I don’t think torturing the prisoner further is what Lord Vader wanted, sir.”

“I will not take risks.”

Cohl swallowed. “Then let’s try another one,” he suggested. But when Skywalker tried to climb into the position, he shouted and grunted with pain.

Piett was a soldier, but he was a navy officer. He stood on the bridge and watched ships explode. It had been a long time since he heard someone scream right in front of him, until their lungs lost capacity, not cut off early by a destroyed comm and a fiery death.

He turned away. Closed his eyes. Skywalker curled up on the floor by the sudden strained pain, Cohl fussing over him indecently, as though he were a loyal Imperial. Piett grimaced in horror.

Skywalker got out through pained gasps, “When—was the last time—you watched an interrogation?”

Piett said nothing.

“Do you know what happens in them? Do you know what they put inside you? Do you know how they make you peel your own skin from your flesh, to get at the truths you’re hiding inside you?”

Skywalker had not been interrogated. No one had asked him questions or used the standard Imperial techniques on him; no one had dared. He knew nothing of what he spoke.

“I was tortured,” Skywalker got out. “So were my friends. They never even asked me any questions. But when they do ask you questions? I’ve seen my friends wake up screaming. Have you?”

Piett did not share a cabin with anyone. The Executor’s walls were thick. Of course he never heard anyone wake up screaming.

“Officer’s prerogative, huh? You never get your hands dirty.”

“How are you doing this?” Piett snapped. “Cease your unending violation.”

“Stop mentally quoting the army recruitment manual. It’s exhausting. I got enough of that when I tried applying for the academy.”

“Skywalker,” Cohl said. “You are shaking.”

Skywalker dutifully got up and let the medic guide him, support him, into the next one. But he still accused Piett, “We both know it’s full of shavit.”

“I know no such thing.”

“You do.” Skywalker smiled mirthlessly. “Ever heard Vader say, ‘your thoughts betray you’?”

Piett decided there and then that he hated Jedi. Skywalker was less obvious about this barbaric ability than Lord Vader, certainly, but that just made it more concerning. Lord Vader was loyal.

“You’d be surprised.”

Lord Vader, whenever he directly addressed Piett’s thoughts as if he had spoken them aloud, respected the Empire enough to meet him on his level. He did not use his otherworldly knowledge to destabilise the foundations of Piett’s life, his iron will, the cause of law and order he had dedicated his life to.

“You’re from the Outer Rim, like me,” Skywalker said. Piett hated the comparison. “You fought pirates. You don’t have the excuse of being raised in the Core, under this nonsense. So, what got you thinking like this? Are you that thoroughly brainwashed? Or just in too deep?”

“I am not the one who committed an act of terrorism as a teenager, Skywalker. The way you joined the Rebels suggests rapid radicalisation and brainwashing yourself.” When they used tactics like that, it was hopeless. The only way to handle that sort of evil was with an unyielding iron fist. What else were they supposed to do with bloodthirsty terrorists?

“You’re right.” Skywalker nodded. “That happens when the force of law and order murders your entire family in cold blood. You radicalised me.”

Piett gasped and closed his eyes. His pulse fluttered.

He heard Cohl murmur something, heard Skywalker shifting, heard this awful, overindulgent, horribly necessary treatment continue. It had been continuing for weeks. How long did it take to recover from torture? How long would Piett have to face this?

“Stop that,” Piett said sharply.

Cohl looked up. “Sir?”

Piett ignored him. “Skywalker, I am warning you—”

“What am I doing this time?”

“You can sense my thoughts,” Piett bit out. “Cease meddling with them. I had heard of Jedi mind tricks, but this—”

“I’m not touching you, Admiral.” Skywalker’s gaze, when he glanced up at him, was cool. “I’ve done nothing.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause you know it’s the truth.” He shrugged, as best he could with his arms bound behind his back. Piett found his gaze tracing the awkward twitch of muscles, his wince of pain. “You only recite propaganda to yourself so hard because without it, it all comes tumbling down, doesn’t it? You know right from wrong. You ignore it.”

“Stop this!”

Skywalker turned away. “Sorry,” he said. He sounded apologetic, but his next words were sarcastic. “You’re right. I’m wrong. You’re a model Imperial with no conscience whatsoever who wholeheartedly believes in torture even if it’s right in front of your eyes.” He paused. “Where were you stationed when Alderaan mysteriously disappeared?”

“Unbind him,” Piett snapped, throwing his code cylinder at Cohl. Cohl fumbled, barely caught it, and unlocked the binders. Skywalker’s bravado vanished; he cried out from pain as his arms shifted, sagging back against the wall, but Piett had had enough. He grabbed his code cylinder back from Cohl. “I will send in another officer to supervise. I have many things to attend to.”

Skywalker’s gaze tracked him as he stormed out. It was insultingly pitying.

Piett was too disciplined to let himself sag against the wall when he left, but it was a near thing. He reached up to straighten his cap—regain the image of the unflappable admiral he fought so hard for—but it was a difficult thing. For all he spoke of his iron heart, his iron will, his iron fist, he knew he had none of them.

Skywalker was right. If he was a man made of iron, it was iron ore: less useful, brittle, disappointing, weak. He was riddled with impurities that no fire could burn away.

[crossdressingdeath]

Alaris Lavellan, 2, 7, 11, 12, 19, 36? If you don't mind double-askers?

Absolutely zero issues with double-askers, I like talking about my boys. Questions from this ask game, feel free to send more!

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like? Alaris adored his mother (and frankly still does). A real mama's boy. The Templars murdering her was absolutely the catalyst for his pure, unflinching loathing for them, and the main reason he still desperately wants to take his place as Keeper one day is because he wants to be like her.

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares? Fire and Templars for most of his life. After the Inquisition started up puppet strings also became a prominent feature. Lots of him being puppeted by unseen hands and forced to do terrible things to people he loves. Of course being a mage a lot of this is probably just demons and spirits being dicks to him, but that's fine.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? Waking up under Haven in chains and in a lot of pain (yay, Anchor bullshit), surrounded by Chantry higher-ups and accused of killing the Divine and blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with no memory of anything after entering the Conclave with the intention of killing the Divine if she sided with the Templars. Being caught by the Chantry has been Alaris's worst fear since he was old enough to understand what they'd do to a Dalish mage (no good possibilities there!), and being accused of something he was fully prepared to do with no memory of what happened is absolutely... a lot. He was trapped, surrounded by the Chantry, with no clue what brought him to this point (and so had no idea what lie to tell to get out of it), and he's never going to be able to forget that.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been? ...Hm. Honestly "calm" is not a word I generally associate with Alaris, this boy is just always stressed. I think probably the night after defeating Corypheus, in that brief gap between dealing with the Breach and learning that the Inquisition has no intention of letting him go. He had a day, maybe two, where he got to just be with his partners and look ahead to a brighter future, and that was a very calming experience. ...The victory sex probably helped.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before? He's the fakest person alive. Alaris has this thing where he's all but incapable of being honest with people, especially people he cares about, and people eventually catch on to him lying to them just all the time. And turns out people don't like it when their loved one is literally never honest with them? Even if it's not malicious? Turns out a fundamental lack of trust in your partner/sibling/friend/whatever is detrimental to the relationship even if it's a result of All The Trauma? Who knew. It's never fully destroyed a relationship for him, but it has put a lot of tension on all his relationships. Fortunately he tends to go for very stubborn people regardless of what sort of relationship he's in with them, so usually it eventually stabilizes and he can make some fumbling steps towards honesty or they die before it becomes an issue. He's just gotta be gently bullied into Telling People How He Really Feels first.

36. How does your character behave around people they dislike? Oh, Alaris is painfully sweet to people he doesn't like. It gets downright saccharine. He's just the sweetest, nicest, most charming young man you can imagine. Also extremely tense, but that's hard to tell if you don't know to look for it. Fun fact, the inner circle takes a while to realize that this is Alarming Behaviour because it's the way he acts around them at first :).

[mi4012amandithewarathanthri]

Independent Work - The Truman Show

2. Analyse the existing opening of the film. What does this show us and what do we understand about what we will see next?

The movie doesn’t open with Truman, but with the director, cast, and crew to the Truman Show, including interviews from the actress who plays Truman’s wife, and the man who plays Truman’s best friend. This immediately exposes the audience to the true nature of Truman’s life.

Mockumentary format - shot as if the cast, crew, director, and fans were being interviewed for a documentary of sorts. Satirises and parodies the same way people treat reality TV.

The movie could have used this plot point as a plot twist but chose to give this information to the audience from the get go. Not only does this evoke dramatic irony, but is also deliberate editing choice that feels almost Shakespearian in nature. It doesn’t make the audience focus on what would’ve been a plot twist, and instead forces the audience to focus on the themes and messaging of the film. 

The opening of the movie is the title sequence to the Truman Show. this forces us as the audience to participate in Truman's exploitation, as we, too, are watching him for our own enjoyment.

Immediately we are introduced to Truman and his world as a show. We are introduced to his character, and his daily life. Everyone is suspiciously nice to Truman, further creating this sense that not everything is as it seems.

The use of camera work when he steps out onto his patio. We see the camera zoom into his face, feels messy. draws the viewers attention that this scene is being caught on camera within the world of Truman. then next shot is one of a camera moving by Truman and he steps toward his car. the movement of the camera is very messy and blurry, making if feel as though it is being handled manually by someone. we later realise that this is because the shot was taken with a real camera within the movie, one that was attached to Truman's neighbour walking by him.

We see a large stage light fall from the sky. This is the first major sign to Truman that his world is fake, even though he does not realise this then. The light is titled "Sirius" implicating that the light was probably acting as the star Sirius in the night sky.

there's an abundance of ads throughout the opening and the rest of he film. In the opening, when he is pushed against a billboard by a pair of twins, and the camera focuses on the billboard for a second. these are hints that he lives within a TV show that would naturally have sponsorships and brand deals.

One of his coworkers interrupts him to show him the newspaper, titling Seahaven "the happiest place on earth." This is strategically placed there to keep Truman on his set and to discourage him from his desire to travel. This is further emphasised by the fact that he is interrupted by something he was looking for related to Fiji.

When he rips out the magazine page, this hints of his love for Sylvia, a character we will be introduced to later in the film.

Nearing the end of the opening scene, there is a conversation between a co-worker where he is asked to take a ferry. Truman looks visibly uncomfortable and stressed at the thought and even attempts to talk his way out of it. Thus introducing the audience to his fear of water.

The film could be seen as an allegory for Plato's Cave. The cave itself is an allegory for how we view reality and how 'reality' could be a subjective experience. This overarching theme is set up in the opening of the film. it opens with Truman within his 'cave', that is, his set. he is perfectly happy within what he believes his reality. We are also introduced to his 'chains,' that is, his fear of water. It is this fear that prevents him from discovering the real world. This sets him up to eventually break his 'chains' by conquering his fear and sailing away in order to escape his false reality.

mood/tone:

The tone of the opening feels calm and meditative, but there is a sense that something is off-kilter.

This also ties in to the sense of dramatic irony the audience experience when introduced to Truman, because we're all waiting for him to figure it out. The opening almost evokes this sense of anticipation as the audience wait for Truman's inevitable discovery of his situation.

The opening also creates emotional whiplash in the viewer through the way they present the actors, crew, director, etc. and how they speak of The Truman Show. The actors are all smiling and proud of their roles, the director reverently speaks of his creation, and all the while inspirational music plays in the background of this documentary; further conveying how this documentary narratively applauds The Truman Show without criticising it. This creates contradicting feelings in the viewer as they watch how these characters treat what should be a very serious human rights violation.

Truman's introduction is very upbeat. It immerses the audience in the world of Truman and his everyday life.

[livia-dovehallow]

Hello. I'm the anon that asked about Gabriel, Cecily, Gideon and Sophie for my fic. Thank you so much for answering, I haven't consider the things you mentioned and now I have a lot of ideas to write. I've never written anything so I'm just trying my best. I was wondering if you could also dive in about Henry, Charlotte and Jesse (not Jesse from chain of thorns that was ooc jesse), it would be very helpful.

I have this wild theory about Grace's origin and I'm excited to write it. Thank you.

hi again! i am so glad you found those helpful! i don't write Henry, Charlotte, or Jesse often but I think I definitely have a few pointers to keep in mind to keep them in character :D

Henry

Writing Henry is probably one of the more fun characters to write because he's so sweet and well-meaning. I find that writing him and Christopher are very similar in that way. Henry is so smart but it doesn't always translate well to others, which is why so many people think him to be strange and eccentric. It's just him being excited about his interests! However, he is still very caring and a gentle-giant really. We see an example of this in CP2 when he's standing with Cecily at Chiswick House and he's so awkward about it because he doesn't know how to comfort a fifteen-year-old girl (but Cecily says he was the first to convince her that Shadowhunters weren't all bad!). He loves Charlotte a great deal and will stop what he's doing if she needs his help. The key to writing Henry is to let yourself indulge in your own hyperfixations because that is very likely to be the way Henry feels about his contraptions.

*With Grace, I think he'd talk with her much like he talks with Christopher. Able to speak comfortably about science and all these terms no one else knows because she does know them. Similar to Cecily, I think Henry would be the first adult male to make Grace begin to feel comfortable about her uncles wanting to know her.

Charlotte

Charlotte is someone I would describe as having a quiet but commanding presence. She appears small and defenseless but she will stand up for what she believes in and stick her neck out for people who may have not always given her a reason to (Example A: Gabriel) because she genuinely believes (or wants to believe) that they are good, too. She can be easily frustrated but overall has a calm and welcoming demeanor. Charlotte also has a tendency to stress herself out, which is a reason why I think she and Henry balance each other well. The key with writing Charlotte is to hone in on her ability to lead even when she is unsure of herself because she wants the best for the people she is responsible for.

*With Grace, I think Charlotte would be very similar to Gideon. Practical but also warm and a friendly face to her within the Clave. She would advocate for Grace by emphasizing the things Tatiana put her through and made her do. She'd believe that Grace, if given the chance, would prove herself to be a good person (much like she gave a chance to Gabriel).

Jesse

Focusing strictly on the in-character versions of him from CHOG and CHOI, Jesse is observent and thoughtful. He notices a lot of small things that most people would miss. Perhaps this stems from a childhood of having to watch for signs that Tatiana was on another bender. He might also even be the slightest bit naiive, as he has never been socialized with anyone outside of his mother and Grace, and a single conversation with Gideon, until Lucie was proved to be able to see him, too. When writing Jesse, I would focus on the relationships he established with those who could see him. His concern about his mother's mental state; Grace's wellbeing; keeping Lucie out of trouble. For much of his life, Tatiana ingrained in him that he was the man of the house. That he would carry the Blackthorn name with pride. That had to make him a little anxious for at least a few years and perhaps made him feel protective of those he felt responsible for. We see some of this Grace's flashback of Jesse training her as best he could with the limited knowledge he had himself.

*With Grace, it's important to focus on not only how he views her (his little sister, naiive, unsure of the world) but how Grace views him, too (the only person she has ever truly loved, the only person she has ever felt cared for her in any way, looks up to). I'd suggest looking at other sibling relationships in TSC for some basic inspiration (namely Will/Cecily or Alec/Izzy, perhaps).