#and I think I wound up on something similar but a bit different from what's taught

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

[medicinemane]

Sometimes it's like... is this person just... a very slow typist... or are they really choosing their words and adding and deleting a bunch of stuff

(this is obviously about seeing people respond on discord and then seeing the message they typed compared to when they started typing it)

[cooliofango]

SEBASTIAN SOLACE FLUFF you walk into his shop looking like death, at first he acts snarky as usual, but he feels bad. you were never flashing him with flash beacons or pissing him off. he gives you a med kit for free, and lets you stay to rest. he lets you sleep cradled against his tail, and doesnt want to admit it but he enjoys it.

Not So Expendable

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Reader has had a bad run and needs to catch a break.

A/N: NERVOUS!!! 😂 I want this to be a good start to the Pressure fandom so I hope I did well! Thank you for requesting to help me get started! (And so quickly too!) I hope I’ve portrayed Sebastian well! If anyone who reads this has any positive constructive criticism feel free to share!

TW: Mention of injury, slightly graphic but nothing incredibly gory!

The familiar sound of someone pulling themselves through the vents pulled Sebastian’s attention towards it, the soft light blue glow of his three eyes settling on the rather ragged figure of the expendable making their runs for today. They breathed heavily through parted lips, a bloodied hand returning to their side to return to applying pressure to the deep red soaked material of their suit-- the right side, he noted.

“Oh my!” A baiting tone left his lips, sharp, pearly white teeth visible as he smirked down at them. “Aren’t you a sight to see?” A deep chuckle filled the air that quickly began to fill with the thick smell of iron. He’s seen wounds similar to the ones this expendable had on numerous occasions. This early in the run, they usually stem from a very specific monster here in the Hadal Blacksite. “I thought you would be smart enough to avoid such simple trickery. They’re only Good People, after all.” The emphasis on the monster’s name was spoken condescendingly, humming in amusement at his own play of words.

There was no response from the expendable. Their hand only pressed more firmly on their wound, limping towards him without so much as a glance in his direction. They only seemed focused on the items draped along the length of his tail. Sebastian frowned in slight annoyance, an emotion that showed vibrantly in his tone, “Fine, fine! Straight to business are we? And here I thought we had something special.”

That line was said tauntingly, though his frown softened. The expendable before him was definitely different from the others he has come across- special is quite the stretch, though, no? The first time you came with a group was a memory that stood out to him in that moment of reminiscence. A large and rowdy group of eight came in to purchase what they wished, with a rather infuriating kid thinking it was a good idea to use the flash beacon right there in the room with him. The sudden bright light stung his eyes harshly. He was about to lash out at the kid, a hand raised to rub the stinging sensation away. But a certain expendable’s voice beat him to it.

“Come on! Is that really necessary? You’re wasting the uses on it anyways!”

While it wasn’t necessarily a direct defense for him, there have been many other occasions where you would put your little group in line whenever you went out as a team. Likewise, you would remain courteous when interacting with him when you would make runs alone as well- no matter how much he would try to tease and annoy you.

A slight tug against his tail brought him back to reality, watching as your face went from relief as you placed a hand on the medkit settled dead center of all of the wares he had up for offer, to a heavy sense of worry as your hand moved to grab the price tag set above it. “Something not to your liking?” Though his tone still held a bit of mockery, it waned into something a little softer.

The expendable quickly shrugged off their bag, struggling for a moment to pull the zipper open with their free hand before digging through its contents frantically. Their face grew paler as an empty flashlight and old keycards toppled out the sides of the open bag. A few files were tossed onto the ground, as well as a couple of DNA samples- but they weren’t even half of what the medkit cost.

Sebastian cringed at the sight, an unpleasant feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Sympathy? His jaw locked in place at the thought. No way. Sympathy for an expendable who will only be sent back once again when they’re on the brink of death, only to be healed to be good as new for the sole purpose of doing all again until the people of UrbanShade were satisfied? Absolutely not, was what he decided. It was nothing more than a slightly sick sense of pity.

The expendable in question dropped onto the ground, seemingly too weak to keep themselves up anymore. Their chest rose and fell with each heavy and shaken breath they took, leaning against an empty spot on his tail.

God, they looked pathetic..

Sebastian scoffed irritably, that same awful feeling that started within the pit of his stomach now crawling up his spine. They looked pathetic. He ripped the medkit off of its hook, tossing it in the expendable’s direction. It clattered loudly when the plastic box made contact with the stone floors, only stopping when it had hit the expendable’s leg and bounced off of it, landing it a few inches away from them.

Tired eyes moved quickly to the box and then to him, leaving only a second to wonder before it was hastily scooped up into their hands. Their hands shook from how weak their body was, and their hands slipped from how bloodied they were- but they managed to open it with an audible pop. The gauze wrap was in their hands in mere minutes, struggling to unzip the scuba suit they wore in order to make their most life threatening wound more accessible.

It was then that Sebastian was able to get a clearer view of the wound you so desperately were trying to keep from draining the expendable completely of their energy. He’s unable to tell if the wound was as deep as it looked, or if the wound was just large, causing the blood loss to make it appear deeper than it really was. It was definitely way worse than the smaller cuts littering their arms- most of which have already healed on their own- as well as the large bruise on the left side of their jaw.

Relief caused Sebastian’s shoulders to relax momentarily, his shoulders dropping with each second he watched the expendable patch themselves up to the best of their abilities. He scoffed at himself upon realization. He shouldn’t be feeling that way towards an expendable. He shouldn’t have helped them to begin with! He keeps telling himself this. And yet, here the both of you are.

The gentle pressure against his tail pulled him from his thoughts once more. The expendable rested against his tail again, eyes fallen shut and breathing more evened out than before. They looked far more relaxed than they were mere moments ago. They appeared almost too relaxed.

“Hey, now! Who said you could get some shut eye?” He initially began to tease, moving his tail to start wrapping around the expendable’s body with the intent on lifting them up to wake them. But he stops himself. His tail is wrapped completely around them, but it hadn’t tightened enough to safely lift them up without the risk of dropping them. The relaxed state, in comparison to moments earlier, eased his nerves. Much to his own dismay. A feeling of defeat washed over him, sighing to himself in slight annoyance as he crossed two of his three arms across his chest.

“Very well..” His voice was soft as to not awaken them, watching over them carefully as the room rumbled with the passing of an Angler just outside the room.

[howtofightwrite]

So. There is no safe place (in the body) to be shot. There are places that are slightly safer than others to be stabbed (i.e. being stabbed in the meat of your calf is less likely to be lethal than your torso). For the purposes of an arrow wound, which feels like a combination of shot+stab for a swords n sorcery world, is there a “less lethal” place to take an arrow? My character is traveling with companions and gets into a fun little goblin skirmish. I need her to catch an arrow somewhere that will be concerning, but not immediately fatal. Magic Bullshit™️ will keep the wound from healing properly for a few days, but I’ve accounted for field wound care (cleaning and bandaging and such) as she’s being taken on horseback to get proper treatment.

Not deeply.

So, the problem with all of these is tissue disruption. If the injury gets deep enough, the chances that it will hit something vital (especially on the torso) increase dramatically. So, getting stabbed and having the blade catch bone, instead of getting in deeper is “relatively” safe. Similarly, getting stabbed (or shot) in the hand or foot is unlikely to kill you (though, those injuries are likely to result in permanent damage impairing the use of injured appendage.)

Arrows are a little different, in a couple of ways. First, if you get shot, you do not want to pull that off (nor break it off and push it through.) That will increase the risk of bleeding out. Arrows make fairly large holes in people, but if the arrow sticks in the wound (which, it should) it will actually limit the amount of bleeding. Effectively the wound has a partial plug in it. Pulling out the arrow means that plug is no longer there, and they can happily bleed to death on the spot.

The second thing about arrows is that they actually pin muscle together. Think of it a bit like holding two pieces of meat together with a toothpick. If the toothpick isn't there, the pieces can slide across each other without issue, but that's not possible when there's a wooden shaft running through them. Your muscles are a complex web of meat, that slide over each other as you move. Pinning those together means that part of your body will actually lock up. For example, if you're shot in the shoulder, you won't be able to adjust the position of your arm. It's been toothpicked, and it's not going anywhere.

Arrowheads can get wedged in bone. If it's a broad head, or hunting tip, that will be obnoxious to get out.

At the risk of reading too much into your setting, goblins often means poisons, or other nastiness. Though, really, even just getting a tetanus infection (it used to be called “lock jaw”) from their blades is a pretty horrific potential fate. Even if the wounds themselves were relatively minor (cuts and scrapes, maybe a graze or two), a couple days might still result in some pretty horrific harm after the fact.

Also, remember, it's unlikely that bacteria will be understood by the medical science of your setting. So, first aid would still run a real risk of secondary infections.

Depending on their skill in first aid, anything outside of a severed artery or catastrophic organ damage should be (technically) survivable, though the wounds could easily result in permanent impairments, depending on exactly what was hit. A punctured lung might not kill her, but it could result in permanent respiratory issues, such as a cough, and chronic pain while breathing heavily from then on. It could also result in pneumonia and death, which is also, usually, pretty permanent.

Some of this depends more on where you want to land on a spectrum between dark fantasy and swords & sorcery. The genres are similar (and potentially overlapping), but can scatter out into dramatically different works. But, you do have some options on how you want to proceed.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[hxney-lemcn]

Cloud Nine — Rayne Ames x gn! reader

summery: reader finds themself not only friends, but falling for the mysterious stoic Divine Visionary. Lucky for reader, Rayne seems to be falling for them as well.

tw: anxiety, breakdowns, but also tooth rotting fluff, hurt/comfort

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!! WOOOO! And I'm so proud of this too!

wc: 3.2k

Master List

You didn’t exactly know what your relationship with Rayne was. It seemed that you had managed to wiggle your way into his soft spot, but that didn’t mean he treated you much differently. He’d watch your every movement and it felt like he was judging you (he was actually just admiring you but he would never admit that). He’d pick apart the faults in your projects or homework (he just wanted to make sure you got a good score). He’d pick apart whomever you’d find yourself fawning over (they were never good enough for you and he didn’t want to see you hurt).

You weren’t even sure how you ended up in this…friendship? You had a basis. It had to be due to the fact that you both ended up in the same set of classes together. Study of magical creatures. You were completely enraptured with animals and insects alike (more so animals, but you found some insects quite interesting). Rayne had a similar interest…though his fascination was more narrowed to a specific animal. You had only found out about his obsession with rabbits when you had been scratched by a creature your class had been tasked to observe. Rayne had handed you a magical handkerchief that he said would heal your wound…it’s pattern being bunnies. 

You bit your lip to stop a smile from spreading over your lips at that. The stoic heart throb of Easton Magic Academy was a bunny lover. That moment had humanized him to you. It showed that he wasn’t just some powerful prodigy that only cared about his own agenda, he had a heart that he hid from the world. He told you to keep it, but you ended up washing it and giving it back to him at a later date. It was nice of him, but it felt wrong taking something from a stranger. 

Well he wasn’t much of a stranger after that, since the next project for your class had been raising an animal of your choosing with a partner. It was to teach you about the importance of development in animals and how their environment can dictate their personalities. To your utter surprise, Rayne had claimed you as his partner for the project, not even allowing you a word in the matter. You weren’t too pressed about it though because you didn’t really know anyone else in the class. The two of you worked together quite well. You weren’t as annoying as Rayne had thought you’d be, and he wasn’t as rude as you thought he’d be. 

You found yourself walking down the hallways with Rayne by your side. You found yourself sharing lunch with each other. You found yourself studying with him in your free time or going to his dorm to check in on what you dubbed, your child (bunny) from your previous project. You had even acquainted yourself with his roommate and best friend Max Land! 

So why didn’t you fully think of yourself as his friend? Well…Rayne had a tendency to send mixed messages. On one hand, he’d walk you to your class, and on the other, you wouldn’t see him for a week straight. Of course you knew he wasn’t going to be as present this year, as he had been donned a divine visionary, but he couldn’t warn you about an upcoming mission or task? It stung when you’d either found out from Max when he asked you to take care of the bunny or when Rayne would just mysteriously vanish off the face of the Earth.

But at the end of the day, you still considered Rayne to be your friend. He wasn’t perfect, but you still cared for him and in his unique ways, he cared for you.

One time that he let his feelings shine through was at this moment.

“Are you stupid?” Rayne asked, eyes squinting at you.

You pouted at his bluntness, “But I wanna pet it!” 

Today in your class you were going over rare creatures, at the moment, going over Bunyip’s. It was a beast that was only found in lakes, rivers, or other bodies of freshwater. They were dangerous as their diet was apparently indiscriminate about what their prey was, but you got hooked on their appearance. Perhaps most people would be horrified or put off (particularly by the fact that no one has seen one enough to give a description), but when you heard that it was sometimes described to look like a seal or swimming dog you were caught in a strange love. 

“There’s not even enough evidence that it exists,” Rayne countered. “And if it did, it would kill you without mercy.”

“That’s okay,” You shrugged. “As long as I can claim I got to pet it.”

“You can’t claim anything if you’re dead,” Rayne huffed, but you had learned to read his emotion through his eyes, and they held a slight glimmer of amusement at the moment. 

You paused, as you weren’t sure how to rebuttal that. So instead you crossed your arms with a pout. Moments like these became more abundant the closer you two got. The stoic Rayne Ames became…well still stoic, but he seemed to become more comfortable in your presence. Awkward pauses in your conversations became far and few inbetween, banter started to become natural between you both. Maybe you dramatized yourself a bit, but that seemed to make it easier for him to tease you (in his own slightly condescending way).

Although the moment that you realized his feelings for you ran deeper for you than you realized happened when you were having a terrible day. You woke up annoyed, no particular reason for it, you just felt like it was going to be a rough morning. Of course, how you perceive the day is going to lead to its outcome. You skipped breakfast, not feeling hungry, only to become ravenous in your first period. Your teacher handed back your previous tests and you didn’t do as well as you thought you had. As the teacher went over ways to better scores for the next test, it felt like they were aiming every word at you. When lunch rolled around, it was hard to hide your sour mood in front of Rayne and Max, but it didn’t seem to matter as the two seemed to completely ignore you, only worsening said mood. You knew it was irrational, they weren’t doing anything wrong, maybe you were hiding your feelings better than you thought, but it felt like maybe they just didn’t care.

So you continued on, not even trying to hide scowl on your face. You felt invisible, so why try? You had finally snapped as someone accidentally spilled ink on your paper that you had nearly finished. You felt your eyes well up with stressful tears threatening to fall down your face. You quickly gathered your things, waving off the person as they apologized. You didn’t care that the class had only started ten minutes ago, you were done. The day was almost over anyways, no harm in skipping your last class. You booked it out of the class, ignoring the stares of your peers and the way your teacher looked at you worriedly. You tried your hardest to stop the tears, but it was no use as they started spilling the second you crossed the door frame of your class. Keeping your head down, you rubbed at your eyes as you walked down the halls towards your dorm. 

So caught up in your torment, you had forgotten that you shared your last class with Rayne. In your mind, it didn’t matter, yes he was your friend but you knew how seriously he takes his schooling seriously. So when you were suddenly pulled into an empty classroom by said Divine Visionary, you were surprised. Not only surprised, but you felt ashamed. You hid your face as pathetic sobs left your lips. You continued to rub at your face, trying to halt the never ending stream of tears. God this was so embarrassing! You didn’t want him to see you like this, it felt like it ruined how you wanted him to see you. 

Rayne on the other hand felt out of his depth. Emotion’s were something he tried to stay away from. That was until it came to you. You had unknowingly shown him the good in feelings, not just the bad he was used to. In fact, you were so good at making things seem brighter, he had failed to consider that the bad affected you just like it does to everyone. Seeing you sob your heart out didn’t sit well with him, hearing your distressed cries felt wrong. You were always happy, cheerful, a shining smile on your face as you shared something you found fascinating. With all the bad in the world you always managed to find something good, and you shared that with whoever would listen. 

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, still hiding yourself from the stoic man standing across from you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Rayne’s heart broke, even in a pained state, you still apologized. For what? He wasn’t sure, but he had a gut feeling it was because you didn’t want him to see your own pain. Rayne racked his brain for what to do, but seeing you in such a state made it feel blank, like all knowledge had vanished from him completely. In what he lacked with emotional knowledge, he knew even less in comforting or touch. He was completely out of his element, but he refused to just stand on the sidelines and watch you suffer on your own.

You felt yourself pause as you felt a hand rest on your head. Peeking up through your fingers, you watched in slight wonder as Rayne awkwardly patted your head. Tears were still falling down your cheeks, but your breathing started to even and your sobs diminished. You had been so flabbergasted by Rayne’s actions that he had managed to shock you out of your previous hysteria. 

You felt yourself warm at the gesture, how he went out of his comfort zone to try and comfort you. It was awkward, sure, but it meant everything to you. And against your own wishes, you felt more tears start to fall, this time due to how intense all your emotions felt at the moment. You had never felt so grateful towards someone, so much care and love. Out of your better judgment, you jumped at Rayne, squeezing him tightly as you cried into him. His arms froze awkwardly at his sides, unsure if this meant you were happy or still sad. The way your hands scrunched his robe, or how you squeezed him like your life depended on him. He felt his face warm, unused to such a notion. Slowly and awkwardly, he put his arms around you.

That moment had changed things between you both. You had become a lot more affectionate towards Rayne (though you kept that for either if you two were alone or just small things in public). At first Rayne didn’t know how to react, he thought you were warm before, but now you were like a sun shining down on him. He was even more befuddled as your special treatment only seemed to be aimed at him. Unknown to him, he had become warmer towards you as well. After that incident, he kept a sharper eye on you, wanting to make sure you never cry like that again. You found it odd at first when trinkets would show up randomly. Sometimes it was items with your favorite animal as the pattern, other times it was trinkets with bunnies as the pattern. Which was a dead give away that it was Rayne who was giving the items. 

You both had become pining idiots, much to Max’s amusement. He hadn’t expected to ever see his roommate fall for someone else in such a way. Yes, he knew that deep down Rayne was a softie, but he couldn’t imagine his friend to be in a romantic relationship. Even so, Max was overjoyed at the events unfolding before him. He would watch with a grin as you offered parts of your lunch to the spilt colored haired man, or how in return Rayne would slip an animal keychain in your bag. 

It was amusing for a certain period…but he started to slowly lose hope that either of you would try to take it further. You both were in a comfortable spot in your relationship, so why rock the boat? Even Finn couldn’t deny that his brother might’ve found himself a true companion, a fact that made him happy. All in all, no one could deny the chemistry between you both. Not even you could find a way to wave it off as friendly. You certainly felt a love deeper than you’d like to admit towards the Sword Cane, and it was hard for you to brush off how much he seemed to care for you as well. 

You found yourself in a conundrum. You had never been in a situation like this before. Where you had feelings for someone and the person actually seemed to reciprocate. But as always, you managed to find a problem. Was Rayne looking for a relationship? He was busy as ever as a Divine Visionary, and that didn’t seem like it was going to slow down. Could it even work? Maybe it was for the best if you two just stayed friends. While Rayne on the other hand never expected to feel like this for anyone. He hadn’t expected to fall for anyone, it wasn’t in his plans for the future, nor would it benefit him in his goal to make the world a better place for orphans. Yet now, when he thought of the future, it seemed bleak if you weren’t by his side. 

Both of your paths seemed like it was going to stray. You wanted to become a wildlife expert of some kind, while he already had his career. A Divine Visionary and a scientist, how would it work out? (Yes, you were both so in love with each other y’all are already thinking that far ahead). 

Yes, Max found your pining amusing, but he also started to get tired of how hopeless you both were. You both clearly cared for the other deeply, it was time for one of you to push things further. So, Max decided to talk to you first, as you seemed to be the easier of the two to push things forward. What he hadn’t expected was how deep your anxiety ran. He could only sit there sweating as you continued to rant a seemingly never ending list of possible problems that might happen. 

“What about tomorrow?” Max asked, cutting you off before you could go further into how you may both be trapped in a loveless marriage.

“What?” You asked, unsure what he meant by that.”

“If you both were together, what do you think would happen tomorrow,” Max clarified, brown eyes filled with warmth. 

You paused, not having thought of that, “Uhm…I guess what it's like now.”

Max smiled, “So why shouldn’t you confess?”

You stammered, heart beating erratically at the anxiety that filled you, “Be-because what if it goes wrong?”

With a sigh he retaliated, “And what if it doesn’t? You have to just take it a day at a time.”

Pausing once more, you realized the anxiety you tried to work on before had overtaken you. You had a problem with overthinking the future, you had even sought help to combat it. They had told you the same thing: ‘it’s not healthy to obsess over the future like that. Just take it a day at a time’. Thinking over the situation once more, you groaned. 

“Your right,” You grumbled, head falling onto your arms. 

Instead of teasing you like he normally would, Max only smiled at you gently. You were a friend of his after all, and everyone struggles with something. You really cherished Max, especially when he helped you come up with a plan to confess. 

There you stood, just as planned, Rayne was alone in the dorm. Max had left so you two would have privacy. Gathering all of your courage, you knock on the prefect’s door. Your heart felt like it was slamming against your chest. You couldn’t help but feel ridiculous. You were holding a bunny plushie, face feeling aflame. The door opened, Rayne’s stoic face, though it seemed like his eyes slightly lit up when he realized it was you. He let you in, as it wasn’t unusual for you to visit. Your eyes landed on your shared pet rabbit, it hopped towards you and you couldn’t stop yourself to lean down and pet it. Rayne watched on, trying to ignore how his heart skipped a beat at the sight. He found you as cute as a bunny, but he wasn’t sure how to express that. 

Standing back up, you inhaled a deep breath. A serious look fell across your face, but it was hard for Rayne to take you too seriously as you now not only held a rabbit plush, but your pet rabbit. 

“I really like you and I think we should date,” You stated, holding the plushie out towards Rayne. 

He stared at you, his brain felt like it was short circuited. You both stood there, watching the other, warmth overtaking the both of you. Suddenly, your serious face turned into one of horror. Had you really just confessed like that? You felt your face flame up, shoulders rising to hide you. That was close to how you had first asked someone to become your friend (they did become friends with you, but didn’t let you live down how awkwardly you asked). That was when you had vowed to never ask someone to be your friend, every time it was someone making friends with you. So why had you trusted yourself to confess? 

“I-I mean, uh,” You stumbled, eyes darting around to try and salvage it.

“Okay,” Rayne finally spoke, accepting the bunny plush. You had managed to leave him speechless, but he quickly snapped back, ending your fumbling. 

You blinked with wide eyes, “Wait, really?” Yes, it was hard to deny how well you both got along, how you both treated the other like they were special, but you hadn’t actually expected him to say yes. Maybe he would let you down nicely, saying he wasn’t ready for a relationship, or that he just wanted to stay friends, but you weren’t going to complain. 

Rayne nodded in response, “I…like you too.” 

“Cool,” You nodded, unsure how to continue. Like stated before, you hadn’t expected it to get this far. You pet the rabbit in your arms, trying to calm your racing mind. What do people do after becoming a couple? It didn’t help that Rayne had just continued to stare at you, making your heart race faster. 

Once again, Rayne patted your head awkwardly. Yeah, it seemed like you both had to figure out what to do.

[gotham-daydreams]

Well that took a dark turn-

ANYWAYS what if reader escapes their first kidnapped Attemp from batfam and just dissappears, like go into hiding, and they can't be tracked down for a few weeks, what will batfam do?? Do you think the reader will be able to do that? 👀 👀 (I love this series and the ideas anons are giving ıts amazing<33)

What can I say? With yanderes there are only dark corners that progressively get darker the further you go.

(Also I'm glad! And I agree!! The ideas the anons are giving are amazing and I love them to bits!)

As for your question, in the series I don't believe that the reader will be able to fully achieve that. Since with what actually happens- well, it's kind of complicated, though they could try!

In a hypothetical scenario (that, once again, doesn't involve what'll happen in the series), the Batfam, in short, would freak the fuck out all over again.

Granted, they do have more information about the reader this time around, compared to when they first started looking for them. However, that doesn't seem to help, as they aren't able to locate the reader anywhere. Having even more trouble than the first night they tried looking for them, which is kind of saying something.

As you've said, it takes them a few weeks. Though by the first week they're already on the brink of insanity.

The Batfam finally had a taste of what life could've been with the reader in it. Of what life is like with the reader in it. Only for that to get taken away from them... and maybe it is deserved. Maybe that's just karma finally biting back, and showing the Batfam the one good thing that's ever happened to them, only to take it away. Only to steal it away again, to pour more pounds of salt on their aching wounds. Maybe it's what they deserve for ignoring the reader, and neglecting them for so long.

But they don't care.

They had the reader. They finally managed to bring them back home- and this happens? The reader ends up disappearing all over again? They leave again? But why? Didn't they want this too? Didn't they want to be a part of the family? What happened to that? Why can't they have it anymore? Why does the reader keep running away?

Y'know how I said in that one post where an anon asked "what would happen if the reader moved to a different country, instead of staying in Gotham?" (Or something around those lines-), that the Batfam would not only lose their minds, but be on the very brink the moment they find the reader, and thus, don't even have to think before kidnapping them? Well, this is very similar to that, except during those few weeks, at least a few of them absolutely tip over.

The moment they find the reader they don't even wait. No more slow approaches or mind games, they need the reader- now.

Nothing is going to change that. Nothing is going to get in the way of that. Not anymore. Not ever.

The reader wouldn't even get a chance to react or even make the smallest sound. All they know is that they were just suddenly minding their own buisness, albeit very paranoid and trying to be the most cautious they could, and then they saw black. By the time they wake up? They're back in their room in the manor. Maybe with a few... things missing if you catch my drift.

Since, now, well-

The Batfam will prioritize having the reader with them over any song or tune they'll ever hear them play.

The reader is what matters most to them, and they're never letting go. Never.

Even if it means taking away thing that'll limit them further. The Batfam is always there to help, so surely there isn't a problem, right? If anything, this just unlocks new bonding opportunities! Isn't that great! Are you happy?

Now the reader nees them more than ever, and they wouldn't have it any other way. :]

Regardless, when I do finally manage to get part 3 out and also part 4 (whenever that'll be-), maybe why I think that the reader in the "Not [ ]" series won't be able to fully accomplish this will be more clear! Since it is a little intense what happens, and will screw the reader over enough. Though it also may further encourage to escape somehow, we'll see!

Anyway, I hope this answered your questions!!

[nexus-my-beloved]

This October, a brand-new story and artwork is coming to you for @deancashorrorfest ! With art by @suninjang and a fic by yours truly, we've created something we're sure you'll love !

Rating: Explicit

Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - FBI Agents, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Castiel, Blood and Gore, Dean Winchester has a Crush on Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Issues (truly, without saying the plot outright even if it's somewhat obvious, anything else is a spoiler! But Dean has issues. Period.)

Summary: Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. Lately, they've been following a set of murders, cold cases that even Castiel - the bureau's best agent - can't solve. The murders seem entirely unconnected, no string to suggest that they're similar at all - that is until Castiel begins to recognize the victims. Suddenly, things are starting to slot into place, and Castiel isn't sure he likes where the signs are beginning to point.

Teaser: Once at the front desk, Dean worked out what they needed to be allowed access to the back room, and Castiel continued to look over the report. 

The amount of injuries sustained were concerning, especially when Castiel began to wonder how exactly the killer had the time to inflict them all. Dean pulled him along into the back room, allowing Castiel to continue to read. “It’s strange,” he started, lifting up a page and being granted sight to another photo. “All the bruising around these cuts… It’s almost like…” 

“Yeesh,” Dean exclaimed, taking in the sight of the body in front of him. “Looks like she got Tatum Riley’ed.” Castiel looked up from the report to give Dean a confused look, unsure of who Tatum Riley was. Dean didn’t seem too impressed by Castiel’s lack of knowledge, however, giving him a surprised look. “What? C’mon, man! Scream! Ghostface?” Castiel only shook his head. “I don’t understand that reference.” Dean scoffed, pointing over at the wounds. “Dude, I don’t know how you do so well at this job without seeing a horror movie or two. Look– Tatum Riley was one of the people that got killed in Scream, right? She got cornered by a killer in the garage and the door back in was locked. She tried to get out using the doggie door that was on the garage door, but she got stuck halfway through. The killer lifted up the garage door and crushed her in it while she was stuck.” 

Castiel shuddered at the visual. It didn’t seem like a pretty way to go out. 

“Anyway– look at this,” Dean continued, pointing at the bruising and cuts. “I mean, it doesn’t look perfect. There was probably a few knife slashes in there, y’know? The movie never actually showed Tatum’s wounds– I mean, you could see that the head was clearly fake when Sydney saw her later– sorry. We never actually saw how she looked after, under the shirt and all, but I’d imagine it might be similar to that.” Castiel nodded a bit, thinking about the scenario. It did seem probable. 

“I was never actually told where they found her body,” Castiel admitted, looking over the body before back to the report. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go see what I can find out.” Dean nodded, shooing Castiel away. “Yeah, you go see. I’ll try to get a few other guesses on what might’ve happened to Riley 2.0 here.” 

Making his way towards the front desk, Castiel allowed himself to think. A kill that seemed similar to a horror film? Could it be the same killer that he’d been unable to catch? If so, then the killer must’ve really switched gears — that, or Castiel was incredibly uncultured on horror movies to recognize similar murders (that very well could be the case; Castiel wasn’t one for understanding movie references).

A kill similar to a classic Scream death? The circumstances being different than the other cases? Is it really the same killer, or does the culprit have a vendetta against Castiel, a want to lower his self-esteem through a subliminal message worthy of being compared to Will Graham's first killer in Hannibal?

Find out more soon - It Will Come Back hits Ao3 this october . . !

[shirefantasies]

Hello again! I have another request that came to me as I was submitting a different one. How do you think Thorin's or the LOTR companies would react to reader having a buzzcut. Especially for dwarves who pride themselves in long intricately done hair and braids. Would they think something bad must've happened to the reader for them to have short hair. Cue misunderstandings and fluff, with maybe hair petting(buzzcuts are super soft!) Hope this sounds interesting enough to do, have a good day again! :)

(I literally lied on my last post THIS is my last pre-op post by the 45 minutes left before my operation appointment)

Heck yeah friend I love this! I don’t quite have a buzzcut but my hair’s far shorter than the average lady’s & definitely so for a dwarf, so I wonder about this too 😁 hope you enjoy 🥰 Warnings: a little violence in one reaction, injury mention in another

Thorin’s Company When You Have a Buzzcut

Balin

“You’re causing quite a stir with everyone, you know that?” Giving a chuckle at Balin’s cheeky look, you lean forward with your chin upon your hand. “And why is that?” “At risk of offense,” the older dwarf answered, “they all want to know what happened to your hair.” “Yourself included,” you shot back with a grin, “or else you’d not be asking.” Taken aback, Balin stutters a bit. “Ah, well, I confess I am a bit curious, after all. Reminds me of when my brother first took all his off. What a stir over something so silly. Do what you like, I was just wondering if Dwalin was trying to get you all painted up too.” “Not yet,” your smile softens and you give him a wink, “but if he does you’ll be the first to know. Ahead of all the sensation.”

Dwalin

You start the conversation on this one, seeing that Dwalin is the other company member with little to no hair upon his head and considering it a bonding opportunity. “Well, I’ve got a reason,” he shoots back to your comment of similarity, arms crossed but expression teasing, “what’s yours? You need some tattoos up there at least.” “No thank you,” you tell him, “if I’m adding any tattoos it won’t be on top of my head! Feel how soft it is up here.” Dwalin looks at you, prompting you to take his hand and put it on top of your head, his eyebrows raising at the sensation. And perhaps because touching one’s hair is a much closer and more intimate thing for him than perhaps you realize. You are quite forward, aren’t you?

Thorin

Pays little mind to how you wear your hair…or lack thereof. In fact, by your appearance he gauges you to be a warrior of some kind, thus taking command of your actions in a fight and seeking proof of your prowess. Before your first encounter with a threat the king’s questions are more along the lines of “What is your weapon of choice?” and “From where in these lands do you hail?” The day the company fights a pack of orcs, you manage to take down more than Thorin expected and at one point, you even jump in front of Dori to parry before a potentially deadly strike takes him off guard. Rising from the struggle of battle, black blood splattered across your layers and even your shaven head, you feel a hand upon your shoulder. Thorin. "It can be hard for us to look beyond our own kin," he tells you, "but you have well proven yourself today. We may not always understand each other, but there is a beauty in that, too, I see."

Oin

Wincing despite your gratitude, you shifted in your seated position while Oin packed the poultice into the wound your side had suffered. "Don't worry, you'll go numb in a bit. If it stings, that is quite alright, that simply means you are getting clean again." Thanking him through heavy breaths, you watched as the dwarf reached a hand up toward your head, running a hand over the soft, shorn little bit of cover it had. "And this one's healing quite nicely, quite nicely indeed. Why, I cannot even see the scar!" The sting in your bloody side faded down a bit as you tilted your head to fix Oin right in the eyes. "What scar?" "Did they not have to sew up your head at some point? Figured that's why they shaved you down," he answered, finally removing his hand from your head. You giggled at that, regretted stretching yourself at a new, though much smaller, arc of pain. "No, my dear Oin, I am afraid the only thing my head has suffered is my typical madness," you teased, waving your hands mystically and grinning at the way the healer laughed.

Gloin

"Pardon me, my dear," your name rolled smoothly off Gloin's tongue as he shuffled forth, hands folded in front of him in the picture of innocence. Oh, this was going to be good. "Yes?" You indulged him, swiveling to give your full attention. The auburn-haired dwarf pointed to his head, his own flowing locks. "What happened t'yer hair?" Perhaps sheepishly, his voice suddenly quickened. Feeling your eyebrows involuntarily raise, you tilted your head- this was not exactly what you’d expected, after all. “I cut it,” you shrugged, “got tired of how it was before. Simply wanted a new beginning, you could say.” Gloin’s eyes never left yours. “So no accident?” “No.” “Ha!” The dwarf bellowed, waggling a hand at his brother and a small scattering of company members a ways back. “I was right! By choice! Now pay up and remember I told ya it was worth the risk!” Shaking your head, you playfully smack him on the shoulder. “I’d better get a cut from this, you ol’ scallywag!”

Bifur

Catching Bifur signing, you turn his way, seeing the motions he performs by his head. “Did you cut your hair yourself?” You realize he is asking. “No,” you sign back, “another did it for me.” “You must trust them a great deal.” Simple enough words signed and yet there is something in the way his eyes shine, the fond inquisition in his smile, that brings a little shock of joy to you. Barring royal dressings, it was far more common for one to do their own hair or entrust it to a loved one, and you could see intimacy in the act. It almost brought a pang of regret that it was just some small-town hairdresser that sheared it at your asking and payment. Your hands freeze for a moment as your eyes search Bifur before you finally sign a response. “I suppose. Perhaps if you ever want to do something different with your hair, I could help you, too.”

Bofur

A mix between caring and teasing, he offers you cover! “Your head looks cold. Need to borrow my hat?” Thinks he’s so funny he laughs at his own joke whether you roll your eyes or joke back. “But really, any particular reason you took it all off?” "It was uncomfortable having it long," you admit, "I was tired of it all being in my face." The way everyone spoke of dwarven culture, you half expect disapproval, but this is Bofur you speak of. Instead he nods acceptingly, smiling in that way that always has you feeling seen and reassured. "I understand that." "You do?" "Sure I do! Why do you think I keep mine braided out to the sides like this?" At that, you smile back. "Besides," he continues, "helps me see all the best sights. The trees, the flowers, that smile of yours..."

Bombur

“Singe all your hair off?” Bombur nods sagely despite the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. “I’ve been there. Burned my beard leaning too far over the stove.” You can’t even correct him right away because you’re too busy laughing. Finally, though, you explain to him that your hair was simply so unhealthy it needed to start over. “Ah, I see, I see! Trying to take better care of it, then?” At that, you nod. He looks at you with new interest, eyes shining eagerly. “So what would you like to do with it next? I’ve got some things you might like to put in it, and I think it would look mighty nice if you wanted to try…”

Dori

"Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," Dori remarks one day, rolling blue eyes illuminated beneath the sun that peeked between the branches. Shifting carefully so as to not disturb your pony, you turned back to face him. "Do what?" "Cut all my hair off just to save some time in the morning!" He replied with a wave of a hand in your general direction. Chuckling, you gave a conceding nod. "I suppose you would gain back an hour, wouldn't you?" At that, it was Dori's turn to laugh. "But then again," you continued, "then you couldn't wear as many of those nice clips and cases. That is one thing I miss about having it all." Puffing up like a proud little bird, Dori smiled. "They are quite nice, aren't they? You know, if you ever get so bored you're tempted to let it all come back, I could make you some of your own."

Nori

Abrasive as it was, Nori's question found you in a way that raised such amusement you forgot to be upset with him entirely, instead simply falling back with a bark of laughter before you answered. "Looks like you're tryin' to hide your identity. You on the run from someone?" He continued musing, in fact, as you laughed. "Law somewhere? A scorned lover? Simply run off with something too valuable not to do that?" Finally, your voice returned. "All this because I've sheared my head down?" You burst out incredulously. "Ever consider," you gasped in mock-scandal, "I like it like this?" "Sure, but that's not exciting," Nori shot back with a smirk, "I like a good story." "Well," you crossed your arms, "perhaps I still have some of those, too."

Ori

Shuffling up to you was the youngest dwarf in the company, sweet Ori; Ori was one of the dwarves who accepted outsiders most readily, and you spent plenty of time at his side watching his drawings and records come to life. That day, though, what was in his hand was not his book, rather a bundle of fabric. "I made this for you." Eyes widening, you extend your hands to accept the soft knitting, peering back at Ori. "I thought your head must get cold," he explained his craft as you unfolded it, revealing a thick, sturdy cap you immediately began pulling onto your head, "does it fit?" Yarn hugging your head perfectly, you nodded. "It's just my size. Thank you." Before he could speak again, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me in some time. Thank you."

Fili

“One of my braids came undone. Kili?” The younger Durin prince seemingly did not hear the request for his presence, so you stepped forward. “I can help.” Goggling at you, Fili posed a question. “Do you even know how?” Hand falling to your hip, you shot him a look. “Though I may not possess them myself, I am quite capable of doing them up.” The golden-haired dwarf looked sheepish, a bit of the mischief fading from his blue eyes. “Suppose I assumed you didn’t much enjoy doing them either,” he told you with a nod toward your head. “Well,” a teasing smile drifted across your face, “I certainly would…unless you are scared.” You were no fool. You knew how the Durins were with challenges. And if you remembered correctly, you knew how dwarves were with braids…

Kili

He cares some of the least out of the dwarves being the least traditionally presenting himself. He’s sort of the type to be a little attracted to everyone, enjoying the unique traits of all types of people. You still cannot help being a bit surprised when he flirts with you, though, not expecting someone with a cut like yours to catch his eye or draw his teasing. “Not one for a courting braid, I see? No one worthy of putting one on you, no doubt.” For all his jesting questions, he never actually demands an answer, though. Instead he simply launches into a story about a haircut prank he pulled with his older brother once to keep light conversation flowing. “Well, by the end of it our uncle looked quite like you! Except he didn’t pull it off half as well.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins | Let me know if you'd like to join!

[skyclan-funny-name-squad]

Okay wow I was not expecting my kittypet fae post to take off overnight like this, but I'm glad you all like it! I've been thinking about kittypet culture so this is what I think is the reasoning behind the beliefs.

Kittypets are often well groomed and well fed no matter the season, while wild cats are often groomed there's a softness to kittypet pelts that you don't find in wild pelts. Along with pretty accessories that a wild cat would have no clue what they are like bows. As such they start to seem a bit uncanny valley because they look like you but not Quite. Especially because of more purebred cats who have brighter pelts or unusual colors or strange muzzles or weird ears. Which helps spread the thought that kittypets aren't fully cats, but something similar, something different but the same. Firestar as a purebred orange cat is just a lot naturally brighter or vivid then the more muted oranges that appear in the wild, and that scares cats.

Kittypets also like to share with their wild friends, they see their friend skinny and cold and want to bring them inside where they can get food and get warm. So they tend to offer it pretty often, however cats that do this start to get used to the ease of food and warmth of the den and find it harder to stay wild or to stay away from twolegs. Some kittypets may even aid twolegs in trapping their friends for the sake of protecting their friends from the harsh outdoors. Which everyone knows once you've bonded with a twoleg whether you want to or not your transformation into one of them is nearly complete.

Kittypet food is also meant to fill a cat as its been fine-tuned to fit the needs of a cat so even if a cat doesn't think it tastes as good as mouse, it still fills them in ways they may struggle to get with hunting. So cats that risk taking a bit start to go back for more, especially in harder hunting series. Sure sparrow may be a bit tastier but if its a sparrow once a week during leafbare or kittypet food every day, cats are going to be tempted.

With kittypets not being in a war culture and often just chilling beyond mild spats means there's more room for other activities like a lot more gossip and stories, news travels fast between cats because kittypets are horrendous gossips which means if you fuck over a kittypet, every other kittypet is going to hear about it and shame you for it. To clan cats it's shocking because kittypet news travels throughout an entire twolegplace and even beyond it thanks to some kittypets that travel in like trucks and stuff, so it can seem like despite being nowhere near the original kittypet, everyone still magically knows how you messed up. This extends to their friends as well, if you beat up a cat that the kittypets consider a friend over a border dispute all the kittypets are going to be like "hey why'd you do that that was mean" and potentially chase you away.

Now for names is something I think is interesting because kittypets are never really like "my names Mouse but the twolegs call me Mittens" so clearly twoleg names have some priority here for kittypets, while the significance of this can very between whatever you want really, its clearly important. So if you get taken in by a twoleg to heal a wound and the twoleg starts calling you Pants, then suddenly all the kittypets call you by that name. No matter how much you insist your name is Twigpounce, you're Pants now. Plus if you're actively stuck with kittypets, you'll start going by Pants as well. Thus the kittypet's steal your name.

Cats that come back from twolegs always come back changed, from how they talk, to how they walk, to what food they eat, to the things they say. They can still shake off the influence and return to the wild, but they'll always be a bit off, a bit different. Everyone knows Tallstar was pet-touched a long time ago from how he acts, but everyone politely doesn't bring it up.

Avoid kittypets! They're tricksters that look like us but they're liars with their fake mice and fake warmth! Do not trust! They aren't true cats! They're something different! Something more dangerous! Do not be tricked!

Also Longtail still throws down with Rusty because he's an idiot and also probably hoping that this will make the scary fae child leave his clan alone.

[toecrust69]

Can i request a gn!reader who’s been trained to be a weapon most of their life so they’re not really good with feelings? They’ve been adopted by the batfamily and they get hurt on a mission, they hide and stuff but dick or Jason (maybe both?) finds out, and like kinda scold them for not saying anything and ask why they would keep this a secret. The reader replies something ‘I just didn’t think it was a big deal’ IT WAS A BIG DEAL. So it’s just fluff and angst😇. You can end it with them having a movie night after patching reader up to feel better? You can change somethings up if it crosses your boundaries! <3

Hurt

Warnings: mild mentions of violence and wounds, cussing, mentions of past trauma, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of an old abusive home, bad writing, animal abuse. Please let me know if I miss anything

A/n: Hello and tysm for requesting!! I just wanted to let you know that if you are in an abusive relationship or family, you are not alone. If you are sensitive to content like this, please leave (respectfully ofc)

Enjoy!!

You pressed yourself up against the rough alley wall, clutching your side in pure pain as tears threatened to fall down your face.

You squinted your eyes shut and gritted your teeth to hold back a grutal scream of pain and slid down the wall.

You were just out on patrol, as usual, when you heard various voices, laughter, and whines from the very same alley you layed in now; soaked in your own blood.

Without a second thought, you dove down into the alleyway. You immediately realized what was going on.

There were five men surrounding what seemed to be a puppy with various wounds.

You frowned. Damian would not have been happy if he saw this.

The men turned to look at you and you could tell some of them were panicked while the rest simply smirked and stared you down.

A large fight ensued between you and three of the men while the other two stood by and watched while also making sure the puppy wouldn't escape.

You took note of this and kicked down one of the men I the direction of the other two, causing him to stumble back, bringing the two with him.

The puppy escaped but you couldn't.

Soon they were all fighting you, and it was a bit too much for you to handle.

They kicked you over and over on your sides, punched you, spat at you, and even stabbed you.

You barely won the fight, and now you stared down at their bloody, unconscious bodies in pure hatred.

You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed and upset with yourself.

Since the moment you were born, you were trained to be a weapon similar to Damian.

You absolutely hated it and you were more than happy when Bruce took you in, but you still felt ashamed any time you were beat in a fight.

You remember how your parents used to severely punish you any time you'd fail a mission or training.

They never held back when it came to your punishments. Even when you were a toddler.

They'd punch and kick you just like the men had and you fucking hated it.

You hated how it brought you back to those dark memories and you hated how it reminded you that you'd never fully recover from it.

Your new family always tried to convince you that'd things were different now; that you were safe.

You'd always try to believe them but there was always that lingering feeling that you were never good enough.

There was always a tiny little voice that screamed and yelled at you about how useless, weak, and annoying you were.

There was always that little voice that told you how much of a burden you were to your new and old family.

But that wasn't the problem right now.

The problem right now was how you'd get back to the batcave/manor without getting caught and interrogated by Bruce or any one of your other family members.

You scouted out for an idea in your head when you finally got one.

Damian, Bruce, and Tim were still out on patrol and Jason and Dick weren't even in the city.

So all you had to do was walk in through the front door with your spare key and pray that Alfred wasn't going to see you.

'Perfect ', you thought.

You searched for your keys in your pocket until you finally got them.

Bruce gave it to you the first time you arrived a couple months ago, claiming that it'd help keep you safe.

You never really understood what he meant but you didn't really mind.

You sloppily fit the key into the whole and twisted it until you heard the familiar click of the door unlocking.

You cracked the door open and peeked in to see if anybody was around, and thankfully, there wasn't.

You fully pushed the door in and stepped in.

Closing the door behind you, you propelled yourself towards the grand stairs.

You immediately froze in your tracks when you heard two muffled voices coming closer towards your direction.

Who could that be? Nobody except aflred was home and these were two voices.

'Was it an intruder? ' You thought and immediately got into your fighting stance, fists up, ready to fight.

The voices inched closer and closer when you realized they sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

You held your stance when the owners of the voice stepped into your field of vision.

'Fuck! ' You immediately began panicking when you realized who it was. Dick and Jason.

They were about to ask you a question when you beat them to it. "What the fuck are you doing here!?".

"We should be asking you that" Jason retorted and you rolled your eyes.

You went back to your normal stance, trying to ignore the painful sting in your feet and arms.

Dick ignored Jason and turned you, signaling you to answer first.

You sighed in annoyance and began explaining your lie you made up on the way here. "I forgot my batarangs and came back here to get them".

They both gummed and not-so-subtly glanced at one another, clearly looking through your plain lie.

"Your lying," Jason stated plainly, "Tell us the truth"

But you completely ignored and asked once again; "now what are you two doing here?".

They frowned.

"If we tell you, will you tell us the truth?" Dick asked and you thought for a second.

You were already in too deep— there was no coming back.

So, you reluctantly nodded your head in agreement.

"Bruce called us in for an emergency meeting." Jason said plainly. "There. Now tell us the truth".

You hung your head low and noticed how your hands seemed to have had a seizure from all the shaking it was doing.

You felt as if they'd yell and punish your if you told them the truth. You knew that wasn't the case; you knew they weren't like that, but you couldn't help it.

Tears threatened to come falling down when you thought of another lie. Hopefully theyd believe you this time.

"I felt a bit tired and decided to come back early." You said a bit too quickly. "Goodnight" you murmered before rushing up the stairs and to your room.

They called after you to come back but you only ignored them and sped up.

Excruciating pain shot through your body with every step you took, but you couldn't care less.

Your hand barely touched the door handle when another one put a hand over yours, stopping you from opening the door anymore.

You looked up and saw Jason, jaw clenched as he stared into your soul.

Feeling a small bit of pressure on your shoulder, you looked and saw yet another big, rough hand rested upon your shoulder. Dick.

You shrinked the longer they stared at you until one of them spoke.

"What happened" Jason asked once again, voice as cold as his stare. Actually, he wasn't even asking, he was demanding.

You gulped and your eyes darted around the room but was quickly interrupted by another deep voice.

"Answer the question" Dick said coldly and you knew that there was no going back now.

You let go of the handle with a shaky breath and turned to face the two of them. Their arms were crossed as they stared down at you and you swore you felt tiny little bugs crawling up and down your entire body.

"D-do you promise not to be mad?" You asked in a small, shaky voice.

They were a bit taken back for a second but quickly recovered; hoping you didn't see their faces.

"Of course not" Dick reassured.

You still felt a bit uneasy about telling them what actually happened but you knew they'd never actually judge you.

"I was attacked by 5 men during patrol. I was trying to fight them off but I wad too weak," tears were now falling out your eyes and down your face. "I'm sorry" your voice was small like a mouse at the end.

Their icey gazes immediately warmed up as they began trying to reassure you.

"It's okay, there's no need to apologize" dick said as he brought his hands up to wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

He held your face between both his hands and you couldn't help but lean into the unfamiliar touch.

"Are you hurt?" Jason asked

"Yeah... just a bit".

"Why did you tell us?" Jason asked in what seemed to be a hurt voice.

"I didn't think it was a big deal" you admitted sheepishly and dug your face more into Dicks hands as if trying to hide from your emberasment.

The truth was the complete opposite.

You knew it was a big deal but you didn't want to bother or burden anybody— especially not your brothers— with your wounds.

It was fucking painful but you thought you could patch yourself up.

You didn't need any help, right?

Right.

They were completely and utterly shocked— what do you mean no big deal!? This was a huge deal to them.

"What do you mean 'no big deal'!?" Jason asked, almost mockingly.

Dick scowled and sent him a glare, signaling at him to shut up.

A huge wave of guilt washed over Jason, but he didn't show it. "Sorry" he mumbled sheepishly.

"C'mon, let's take you to the medical room" he whispered into your ear as he lead you down the stairs and towards the batcave.

They placed you onto the small bed and in the bright florescent light, they could tell your injuries were definitely more than a big deal.

Blood covered your mask and suit. They could tell your leg especially hurt considering most of the blood came from there and your abdomen.

They didn't even understand how you even managed to walk— let alone up the stairs.

"Get me the med-kit" Jason demanded, pointing at Dick then the nearby meditation.

He was back in a flash with the med-kit and set it down beside you.

Jason opened it immediately and pulled out all the materials he needed.

Jason was always better when it came to patching up wounds compared to Dick. It was mostly because Jason got more hurt than Dick did during patrol, even though he'd never admit it.

His hands were fast but gentle as he began patching you up.

You had a high pain tolerance, so it only stang when he pressed the alcohol against your wounds.

Once he was finally done, he put away all the materials and turned to face you along with Dick.

You had since stopped crying and began pushing yourself off of the bed, standing up to your full length.

"Thank you" you mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear.

They nodded and you began making your way towards the door when the stopped you.

"Hey" Dick said and you turned to look at him. You signaled for him to continue and he did, "you're not alone. You can always reach out to me or anybody else for help, okay?"

You nodded your head in agreement and they both smiled.

"Good."

.

I'm not really happy with this one but oh well, I hope at least you enjoyed

-toes<3

[stabbythespaceroomba]

Okay okay okay I know Aeron died by his own sword to his neck, I know we don’t have any other wounds on him canonically

I know people are a fan of ‘he’s such a bad swords man someone took his sword and killed him with it during the battle’

However!!!! I can’t stop thinking about the positioning, the way the sword is stabbed straight up.

I am a strong believer that he was staked to the ground as a message? As a sign of disrespect for daring? To highlight him out when the Lord’s come for their dead?

The sword is a grave marker and a taunt in one.

He’s in the river, but they’ll make sure his body isn’t washed away

The sword has to be pinned into the ground, his neck alone would not keep it straight up like that (even though the screen shows it as the blade’s tip, the physics of it just wouldn’t work to hold it up), which would require a fair bit of force.

There isn’t even that much blood

The neck’s isn’t torn either - it’d be a much fleshier bloodier sight if he was able to fight or move and yet it looks like he didn’t struggle.

Sure you can say that it’s soaked into his doublet? Jerkin? (I really need to refresh my fashion history) But there’s not a lot on the sword, nor in the water around him, you can still see the brooch and pin clear as day.

Was Aeron dead before they pinned him?

He’s mainly covered in mud - you can see it matted in his hair as well. Like he’s been dragged on the ground.

I’m quite sure that’s his cloak underneath him. The weave looks similar from what I can see. And the brooch looks Bracken

The weave of his cloak is rather distinctive and different to other clothes, like Davos’ cloak.

And yet if that IS Aeron’s cloak, he’s both not wearing it and yet the brooch and pin are in place.

-

Really there’s two ways Aeron ended up like that

A - Aeron was already dead. Maybe he’d gotten gutted, maybe he’d hit the back his head against something in the fight. Maybe Davos had relieved him of his sword and wrestled him to the ground in the field while both houses got reinforcements. But Aeron is dead and the scene is arranged in mockery? To literally stake the boundary back into place. First the Bracken cloak spread out, then the Bracken knight atop it and his own sword to mark the boundary as a final mockery????

B - Aeron’s alive when he’s stabbed and he’s most likely held down and into place. He’s recognised as an heir to the Bracken lordship or recognised as an instigator. His hair matts with mud as he tries to thrash free and can’t. The wrestle that gets him on the ground pulled his cloak off and he’s looking up at the person who kills him until they force his head to the side. His eyes close instead of staring up, trying to make something of his death at least on his own terms - he won’t give them the satisfaction of a beseeching gaze.

“You wouldn’t dare” - Aeron would dare and that’s why the Blackwood’s have to make a mockery of him.

And let’s not forget that Davos dies so close to him. An arm flung out in Aeron’s direction. What the fuck is that all about. Did Davos kill Aeron? Did he hold him down or did he try to stop a dishonourable slaughter? Do you think he didn’t know and is dumbfounded and struck down as shock fills him to see Aeron dead or dying like a Blackwood Trophy???

[indouloureux]

Hi! Could I request something like reader and Eddie being in a relationship just a couple of weeks a maybe and reader is a bit shy and they meet readers friend who’s also a guitarist and also a hot rock and roll girl, reader is getting insecure and jealous but Eddie assures her that she’s the one and only ❤️

i love this!! thank you for requesting <3 (fem!reader)

you trust eddie.

you'd only been together for a few weeks, yet trust has been bound tightly the moment you two have met. he had that charm, that ambience—that despite his silver-donned and black outfits, he had a key to every secret told to him and kept it hidden as a promise.

besides that, he made you trust him with your whole heart, secrets and whatnot. he won't cheat, he won't fall out, and he'll love you forever.

he said it and you knew it.

you trust your friend.

she met eddie when you introduced her to him during one of his gigs, thinking harmlessly that they'd be good friends with their similarities: both metalheads, both ozzy osbourne worshippers, both nerds.

you thought they'd make great friends and they do. but doubts and you? eh, not so much.

doubt isn't a great friend. neither is jealousy. neither is insecurity. especially, insecurity. fucking bitch.

you didn't realize then that you'd feel... a heavy pressure on your chest seeing them interact. suddenly you felt jealous, a little left out, because you're thinking—what if eddie wanted a girl like her? a girl like him?

you do not trust yourself.

it's not like you're any different. you like the things he likes, but you like your own things too.

albeit the ache of jealousy never settles and to add salt to the wound, insecurity never hinders. never waves its white flag around. you don't like that they're in their own world talking about something while you're beside them.

"hey, babe?" the sobriquet makes you blush a little, turning away from your desk with a pencil in your hand. eddie tucks his neatly folded handkerchief in his pocket.

"yeah?"

"your friend's asking me to meet up at the hideout."

your blush dies into something pale and soon, a lifeless paint. "what, like, right now?"

eddie nods, shrugging his jacket on. "yeah."

you don't want him to leave yet. it's barely four pm. and you don't like the fact that she's asking him to hang out again for the second time this week. your lips purse and move to the side, diverting from his gaze. and had you not looked away, you might have seen his eyebrows furrow in curiosity; or suspicion.

"can you maybe stay for a little bit longer?" you ask, placing the pencil down.

with a soft look of concern, he approaches you, socked feet on the carpet of your floor. then his index curls around your chin and tilts your head up, his thumb tracing the left corner of your frown.

"why, sweet thing?" he asks quietly, fingers dragging up to tuck your hair behind and pout softly, his ring cold against your heating skin of embarrassment.

"nothing! it's just," you scratch at your temple, looking at his pale wrist, see the way his purple and grey veins twirl around his limb. "i just- want you here, 's all."

he takes his hand from your cheek to card his fingers through your hair, slicking it back before patting it down. eddie hums quietly like he's in thought, like he's settling for a hypothesis to choose in his head.

though it's been a couple weeks of something more, eddie has gotten you memorized in those years of longing.

"do you not want me to hang with her?"

"what?" you push back slightly, though his hand never leaves the top of your head. you laugh nervously. "teddy, why would you say that?"

teddy rings around his head like a guitar riff that lulls him to sleep. pink tinges his cheeks. "i know when you're thinking really deep, baby. i know when something's wrong."

he crouches down, between your legs, his elbows on your knees as he takes your face in both his hands and cradles it like the moon. "tell me what's wrong, baby, come on." eddie adds.

you sigh and look down on your lap, feeling his thumb stroke your cheekbone. there's a whimper that leaves you and your heart aches just a bit.

"i guess maybe i'm a bit jealous," you murmur. "because she's like you and i think that you like it better that she's like you...."

eddie's touch falters a little, but the warmth of his skin lingers on your flesh. you see how his eyes darken a bit in sympathy and disappointment—in himself, you can read. but you don't know why.

"sweets, do you remember when i asked you out on a date?" you nod. "and you asked me why and i said 'well, it's because you're pretty. and you're you, and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you make me cry and you make me do the stupidest shit in existence but it's okay because i do it for you'?"

you find it amusing how he memorized every word. you find it funny how you remembered that moment; between a shared joint and a movie. "yeah?"

"what i say still stands. i like it better when it's you. i like it when it's you. and shit, babe, i like it that you're kinda not like me. 'coz then i get to teach you. what's mine is yours, sweetheart. i'm happy to be the only one who introduces you into things i like," he takes your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips. "and i like it when you teach me what you like. makes me get to fall more."

"what's mine is yours," you quote from him. "okay, you sap."

eddie leans up to kiss you. your friend's in the back of your head now. and all you're thinking is eddie, eddie eddie eddie and you. and how he said that you're pretty.

[hollowtones]

ayy monhun fan! what are you thinkin of what we've seen of wilds so far?

The initial trailer they dropped months ago was pretty cool. "World" is my least favourite game that I've played (even thought I liked it a lot!!), and 90% of why I felt that way was "this is the first time they're making a game of this scale / scope / direction", so it's exciting to see them make a successor to it now that they're not also learning how to make a game like it from the bottom-up & not also building the tech side of it from scratch.

Big desert environments have me excited!!!! I love the way these games do deserts. I'm always dreaming of Val Habar. I love the colour palette they're using for this area. Big fan of Yoshi being a new mechanic. In general I'm noticing a lot of things in "Wilds" that feel like a really cool mix of ideas from "World" and "Rise" in a way that feels a little more grounded. It's cool that they're bringing back a buddy you can ride around on & control. I wonder if they'll let Yoshi fight with you. I don't remember if they showed that off already. Getting to hotswap between 2 weapons without having to run back to base camp feels like a big deal that I haven't really wrapped my head around yet.

The focus mode thing seems fine. More granular control over aiming sometimes seems neat, & the footage we've seen makes it feel like positioning & animation commitment are still a part of it, which I like. Expanding part-breaking into "opening wounds that take more damage & enable special attacks" seems cool! (There was a similar-ish tenderizing mechanic with the Clutch Claw in "Iceborne", and I fuckin hated using it. Loved the idea of it at first. Having to do this whole separate action that interrupted the flow of the fight in a weird way to enable more damage felt awful after a while!! And they designed all the fights around the fact that you have it & use it! So I'm glad they're seemingly taking what I liked about it & chucking out the rest, haha.) I remember there was some hubbub about focus existing at all when news was first dropping. Some people were mad about it? I feel like this happens every time they announce a new Monster Hunter. They reveal a new feature, and a couple guys crawl out of the woodwork to go "THEY HAVE MADE THE VIDEO GAME PITIFUL AND EASIER - THIS IS THE DEATH OF THE FRANCHISE!" The franchise has died every game since the first one, by my count. (They end up buying the game anyway, of course.) I hope they put out a demo soon, though. I wanna get my hands on it & see how it works in the middle of a fight to see how I actually feel about it.

Weapon & armour design so far has been great. Happy about that. The bits of NPC designs we've seen have been cool. I don't really like the smith's look very much. Which makes me sad because I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be Little Miss Forge. LOL

When they first showed the game off I remember thinking "yeah, that's cool, I'm looking forward to this, but it's coming out Next Year & we're not even halfway done with 2024." Well now we're almost two thirds of the way through the year. And they keep dropping gameplay trailers. And they look hype as fuck!! And now I'm feeling more impatient!!! I wanna try this shit out soon!!! I wonder if they'll drop a public demo after Gamescom or something. I wonder if my computer could even run it...

I liked the way Hunting Horn played in "Rise" but it's cool to see the more traditional recitals back. (But faster!! And with new combo paths!!) I think I've spent a cumulative hour or two watching that horn trailer over and over again for little details. The funny bubble reminds me of bead of resonance but it seems like it might also be some kind of AoE team buff? It could also just be extra damage like bead was. But I loved bead. So I'll take it. Being a Hunting Horn fan is accepting that you'll be playing an entirely different weapon in every subsequent game, so I suppose I fuss less about whether or not it plays like any one specific game. But mannnnnn it looks cool as hell this time around.

[akirathedramaqueen]

The Five Stages Of Grief: Verosika vs. Stolas

Alright, guys, it's time to play the complete denial card and ignore for a moment what we've just seen in the last short Viv dropped like a fucking nuke on our heads (seriously, this woman makes me swear more than a sailor).

Are we going to talk about something light? Ha-ha, you are looking at the angstiest person out here. Sorry. No relief for you.

But maybe some bits of analysis will do? Let's go.

The setup

Some time ago, I discussed how differently Stolas and Verosika react to their breakup with Blitz in response to one of my previous posts (it might be useful to read that to have the whole picture, but it's not crucial—here).

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:05

If we recap that reblog, I find that Stolas deals with his emotions much better and processes them in a more mature manner than Verosika does.

We could stop there, really, but I wanted to explore the situation from a different angle. Using the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief model, we can pull out more nuance from their actions and words.

They both went through a similar traumatic event—Blitzø hurt them in arguably one of the worst ways possible. The circumstances, Blitzø's intentions, and the outcomes are slightly different, but at their core, they are both left broken and deeply wounded.

Left: S2EP8, The Full Moon, 22:00 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:03

So, what about their personalities makes their responses to trauma so contrasting?

Disclaimer about the model's credibility

This is probably me being overly pedantic, but I want to point out that this model is deemed to be popularized by the media, and professionals’ opinions are conflicted—some say it is accurate while others criticize it for its lack of flexibility or go as far as to say it has no application in real life. The studies are also inconclusive—there are papers both in favor of and against this model.

What am I trying to say here? This is a silly analysis about silly demons from a silly show, and if you do happen to unfortunately experience grief in any way (I am so sorry you have to go through this!), it is essentially experienced by all people differently. You should not feel bad if you skip stages or if their order is messed up.

Okay? <3 Okay. You’ve got this in your own way.

Tomorrow will be better than today.

Stolas: A Classic Way

One of the things I noted in my previous post is that Stolas immediately recognizes the pettiness of the party, and I praised his remarkable ability to see through the issues with such events.

The one day a year the spirits can rise amongst the living and it's spent celebrating mutual pettiness. S2EP9, Apology Tour, 6:55

And don’t get me wrong—his own way of dealing with problems is just drinking them away, and that’s not healthy. That’s why he actually belongs at this party.

But emotionally, Stolas is much more aware of what’s going on with him and the people around him. I think that despite his drinking problem, this awareness helps him process his own grief faster and find resolution—or at least an outlet—in just one night.

Let’s apply the five stages of grief model to him and see what’s going on.

Denial

You can see the denial seeping through during their morning conversation—there are moments when he clearly hopes Blitzø will suddenly listen to him and change his demeanor, despite Blitzø being consistent in his brashness and hostility.

Left: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 3:56 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 4:23

Can you see the hope in his eyes? Can you see how ready he would be to brush off the whole shitshow happened between them just for Blitzø to take at least a bit of accountability or accept his feelings?

Additionally, although it doesn’t fit the term perfectly, we could stretch the concept a bit and say that the following lyrics below are somewhat denialish. Notice, by the way, that it’s not linear to the suggested model—you’ll see why later.

But I, I keep on waiting Waiting to want you less than I do And I do, oh, I do, yes I still do want you S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:08

'Cause I am not a thief, but you were mine to earn S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:42

He struggles to accept that the relationship has ended (we struggle too, baby owl, and we're not accepting it… but it gets worse before it gets better), and he still waits for Blitzø to return, maintaining a possessive feeling—“you were mine to earn.”

Anger

Stolas's anger is vastly different from Verosika's—I promise to elaborate on it later.

He uses his anger throughout the morning confrontation with Blitzø to protect himself from Blitzø's attacks and futile attempts to retain the status quo. His anger serves to assert that he is done with the transactional arrangement and Blitzø's behavior.

As shocking as this might seem, Blitzø, I don't think I'm in the mood to "do sex" with you. In fact, I don't think I'm even in the mood to do words with you! So, how about you respect that? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 0:57

[Stolas]: Get out. Right now! [Blitzø]: What?! [Stolas]: I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable how you're speaking to me now! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:24

And all of this happens just the night after that disastrous full moon meeting! Stolas is pissed off, and rightfully so. But he still gives Blitzø the chance to correct his behavior, explain, and apologize. He asks Blitzø to leave him in peace but stays to hear him out until it becomes clear that Blitzø is not going to relent or give in.

His anger is not used to destroy those he is angry with; rather, it is directed toward keeping himself whole—at least as much as possible.

Bargaining

The whole verse of All 2 U, where Stolas contemplates what went wrong and if there's something they could still do, represents him trying to bargain for a better future.

Maybe there's something here for us to glean? For you to teach and me to try and learn? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:32

Of course, this is also something very useful for when they come back together (not if!). Despite Blitzø being the focus in the Apology Tour episode, Stolas has a lot of work to do, too. And him realizing that is a positive step.

But for now, from the perspective we’re looking at, this is a clear sign of him trying to trade anything he can for their relationship to flourish.

Depression

Eventually, Stolas breaks down publicly. He can’t hold the mask on anymore; seeing Blitzø is unbearable, as it reminds him too much of everything that happened and everything that could’ve been.

You! Why are you here? I don't want you here, go home, please! Let me not feel so sad! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 15:50

And he manages to compose himself incredibly quickly…

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:07

It takes him just 17 seconds to fall into crying and calm himself. But there was more brewing beneath the surface—he just didn’t show it.

Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia. S2EP1, The Circus, 00:20

Acceptance...?

Then there's the guy who received more hate than he (allegedly) deserved—Better Than Blitzo guy. He asks Stolas for a dance, and Stolas accepts. He seems to quite enjoy himself there, actually… maybe even a tad too much (arguably).

Well, I just wanted to see if... Maybe... I dunno... You'd wanna... Dance? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:16

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:08

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 20:08

Did he move on? Did he get over Blitzø? We don’t know. I don’t think so. But that dance was certainly an outlet. A relief he was ready to accept. He was ready not to dwell on negative emotions and allow himself to feel something good for a change.

Verosika: A scorched earth way

Now, let’s see how Verosika is doing after all these years post-breakup. Surely she can’t care less about Blitzø now, right?

Anger

Right… No petty feelings at all.

S1EP3, Spring Break, 8:13

There's still resentment...

A selfish imp in the sheets And just as bad in the streets A reckless, heartbreaking freak! S1EP7, Ozzie's, 11:54

Anger… to the murderous degree, actually…

Fuck Blitzo in the fucking ass! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:14

Disrespect...

That cock-sucking motherfucker! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 9:36

Remember when I said their anger is different?

She uses hers to fuel her determination to destroy Blitzø’s reputation. She uses her fame and all her resources to humiliate him.

She never moved past anger. Never really processed it.

But wait…

Acceptance?!

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:55

All it took was just one long-overdue genuine talk. The moment she saw Blitzø's remorse and let her feelings out, she immediately warmed up, stopped using his dead name, and even gave advice—it’s debatable whether it was the best one, but I believe she meant well for both Blitzø and Stolas.

Hold it, Blitzø. Y’know, if you wanna change, it just starts with saying: “Good for him, hope he gets laid.” S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:18

You know, I feel there’s a good chance that the next anti-Blitzo party might not ever happen again.

Because she leaped through all the stages in one night, and, maybe not at that exact moment, but she is on the path to acceptance. Finally letting it go.

Baby, I'm not over it, but I'm over you.

Could've saved many years of simmering in rage and destructing herself over Blitzø though.

Conclusions

Oh shit, now I need to somehow connect all the dots, don’t I?

Well... *chuckles nervously* I guess I gotta put on my nerd glasses and pretend I knew what I was doing here and not just threw shit at the wall and saw what stuck.

What I really wanted to say is that Stolas is much more self-aware and was able to work through all his feelings and process them in one day. He went through the complete journey and made immense progress. We don’t know how it will go further, but from what we’ve seen, his emotional intelligence helps him, if not to avoid problematic behaviors like binge-drinking, then at least not to burn bridges behind him, leaving space for understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance.

It’s not to say that Verosika’s way of doing things was wrong because she was angry and skipped through some stages. It was wrong because she made her entire personality revolve around it, turning bringing Blitzø down in any way possible into her ultimate life goal. It was wrong because she never processed it.

And it shows why, even after the break-up, #stolitz can still work, given that Blitzø is open about how he feels and Stolas is open to listening to it.

AGAIN! There’s no right way to process grief. But there should be a priority to heal and accept instead of doubling down and ruining yourself and everything you cared for.

(I am watching you, Blitzø hater. Don’t you dare to shit on my poor lizard. He has his own heap of issues and has had enough after that fucking penguin slur short. So don’t. >:()

[littleapocalypsekitten]

Love is Inevitable

Cross-posted to my original writeblr, Rusted Dreams Stories Posted here because I think more people see me here, but please consider giving my writeblr a follow / reblog from there. One of those "Humans are Space Orcs" "Humans are Weird" type of stories, only instead of admiring us for our physical-endurance abilities, an alien species admires our emotional resilience.

Love is Inevitable  In the ages since contact had been made with the Earth and the human species, the other rational races of the Pan-Galactic Alliance had their various reasons for either abhorring or admiring them. A great many of the peoples admired Humanity for their general physical endurance – the ability to recover quickly from wounds and to withstand conditions that would kill a great many beings.  However, the Mhrr’ah held them in awe for a very different kind of endurance.  First contact between the two species was a bit awkward because humans could not help but compare the Mhrr’ah to a certain kind of pet animal they kept.  “Kitty!”  - They resembled bipedal cats save for the small horns upon their heads, longer, boxier faces and notable biological differences such as reproduction through eggs.  In turn, the Mhrr’ah compared humans to the golb, a small, bald, purplish-colored animal they kept as friends, although they were arguably more pig-like or doggish. Their respective choice of pets, strangely, was what had started conversation which led to the Mhrr’ah thinking of humans as particularly tough.  The Mhrr’ah were rather appalled that humans kept companion animals that did not match their own lifespans.  They were even more confounded by the ability of human beings to pick up and keep working and living after the loss of kin.  The Mhrr’ah were highly emotional beings. As soon as they had grown, they tended to part ways with their parents, but stayed in touch with their clutch-mates.  They formed attachments with mates and friends of similar health-status and age (and they did live long, by the human reckoning) so as to maximize the likelihood of a life together.  Most forms of conflict on their planet were a distant memory of ancestral forms because of this peculiar type of empathy.  If one Mhrr’ah in a friend or family group died, the rest of their strong attachments was sure to follow.  It was almost unheard of for one to lose a life-mate and not to have their own body shut down in pure despair within months of the event.  Conversations with humans brought up widows, those who had lost brothers, best friends, parents and animal companions time and again.  Humans spoke to them of Stages of Grief and of the ways they’d sought out each other to support themselves through it.  They spoke of ghost stories and mythical lands of the dead where some hoped to be reunited someday with those they’d loved.  The Mhrr’ah, who did not understand how one could fall, but not the others in one’s chosen circle would bow their heads in salute to the resilient human explorers and tradesmen they’d met if they ever had a sad story.   And that is to say nothing of other tales the humans told them – the loss of homes, the loss of friends though things other than death, various mental breakdowns that they could recover from.  This, to them, was far more impressive than any physical endurance that humans ever had.  The Mhrr’ah were a people who were careful to keep to small circles and careful to keep themselves safe. They tried to distance themselves from forming friendships with humans even as they’d formed partnerships of mutual benefit simply because they knew that humans felt strong emotions, too, but were shorter lived than they were.  A human might keep a Mhrr’ah in their memory if they’d loved and lost a friend, but a Mhrr’ah would not be capable of it for long.  In the end, they’d even formed attachments with pets knowing that they would outlive them by many spans.  When asked, the humans said something that resonated with all Mhrr’ah.  “We really can’t help it.  Love is inevitable.” 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

After the Horse Has Bolted

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: T Word Count: 1899

Summary: Though they escaped execution, Guildford continues to struggle with his transformations and, worse, with dreams of losing Jane. A frank conversation with Susannah might help more than he expects it to.

He loves her like this, watching her move about the camp at twilight. She isn't the only person here with medical knowledge, and she lacks the experience to deal with more severe battle wounds, and some of the Ethians are steadfastly distrustful, but there are enough willing to let Jane close, and enough minor wounds, and, generally, enough patients to go around. Her skills are badly needed.

As Jane tends to people, Guildford feels a bit useless. Though he did try to help, he quickly realized it was all too unfamiliar for him to be of much use. Besides, these people don't extend the same welcome to him as they do Jane. He doesn't have her bedside manner, he supposes. Fuck them for finding him slightly jumpy and suspicious after one of their own (technically, one of his own, but fuck) attempted to murder him with iron manacles. But he thinks this without heat. These people are their allies—almost their only allies—and he's trying to see what Jane sees.

Mostly, he just likes seeing Jane. Jane in the early morning, scavenging in the woods for medicinal plants. Jane winning over strangers by sitting at their side to cut the thread of their stitches with her teeth instead sitting on the throne to sign a document they may never feel the benefit of. Jane alive. Guildford hasn't told her yet that he sees her differently when he closes his eyes. He sees her pristine white dress across the square, the black strip that blinds her. In his dreams, he watches helplessly as she kneels and the axe swings down. That's when he wakes up screaming her name.

Yeah, maybe that's another reason these people feel a little uneasy around him.

Except Susannah. Susannah's been marvellous. They've sort of met before—him below the stairs with the beautiful woman he would next see walking up the aisle of a church, her rushing down those stairs to warn Archer about the guards, then the night of the attempted assassination outside the old Ethian camp—but Susannah makes more of their acquaintance than it really is. She does it so the others will trust him, because they clearly trust her. They listen to her. It isn't long before Guildford learns it was Susannah who mustered the rescue party that saved his and Jane's lives, though he suspects as much even before it's confirmed. He sees their bond. He's grateful for it.

How grateful though, is the thing, when Susannah plonks herself down on the log where Guildford's seated, and follows his eyes, smirking to catch him gazing at Jane.

"D'you ever let your wife ride you?"

He can't look at her as he responds, "Just the once, escaping execution."

"Ah, y'know that's not what I mean."

"No, I don't know that," Guildford says stubbornly.

Susannah hunches forward and catches his eye.

"How come you're blushin' then?"

"Piss off."

"No."

He looks at her, and she's grinning. While Jane was raised a lady and Susannah supported herself in service, Guildford's found them to be cut from a very similar cloth. They're both unflinchingly bold when they want to be. Cautious, at other times, but not timid. Not everyone can tell the difference. He's been learning Jane, and is beginning to know Susannah, and he can tell she's teasing him for a reason. It might be friendly, or a protective test of Jane's husband's mettle, or something else. Whatever it is, Guildford realizes he's probably better off not trying to shut her out. They're persistent, these two women.

"Want to know why I'm asking?" Susannah prompts.

"I'm guessing you'll tell me."

"Very good!" She shifts closer and lowers her voice. "It's 'cause I've heard you screamin' your feckin' head off the last three nights."

"And you thought Jane was responsible?"

"Yeah, I hoped she was ridin' you like there's no tomorrow. Two reasons for that. You want 'em?"

"Terrific," Guildford says flatly.

"One," Susannah says, holding up a finger to show the count, "because back when Jane and I lived under the same roof, I was beginning to have serious concerns that she was never gonna let herself enjoy herself. It was a virgin you took to your marriage bed, Guildford, no question."

"You are nosy, aren't you?" He scowls at her, but Susannah stares back, unfazed.

"It's the same for her with me. If your hair wasn't curled already, she'd have stories to tell you that'd do the job."

"Please just get to your second reason."

Susannah sighs.

"If it's not Jane, somethin's troublin' you, and it can't go unaddressed. We can't have that. You'll either attract trouble to our camp or somebody already livin' in it'll stab you themselves to keep you quiet. Probably your wife."

Guildford sags. He knows she's right—the last thing he wants to be is a liability. He doesn't want to get anyone else hurt or killed. Especially Jane. Jane, who was sentenced to death for marrying him. Jane, who stood in the fire with him, the bond between them even stronger than the rope that wouldn't split. She would die for him. Without question, without thought, without hesitation. But he wouldn't survive getting her killed.

Susannah has fallen silent, apparently waiting for him to suggest a solution. Guildford doesn't know if this is an Ethian thing or just a Susannah thing: allowing that the person with the problem probably knows themselves best. He thinks it's likely that she's wrong in his case, believing himself the picture of stunted self-knowledge and repressed memories. He takes a deep breath. He can't be that man anymore. It doesn't do anyone any good, himself included.

"I keep dreaming she was executed. You and the Ethians don't come, and I can't get free of the ropes, and I see her beheaded." His own throat feels painfully thick as he forces the words out.

"I can see why that'd be botherin' you."

"It nearly happened," Guildford agrees.

"That's not why. I don't think it's about Jane."

"Of course it is!"

But Susannah's shaking her head.

"It's not her who's powerless, it's you. In the dream, you're tethered. Outside the dream, what is it you feel you can't control?"

Slowly, Guildford understands what she's getting at. He answers, "My transformation. My Ethianism." He narrows his eyes at Susannah. "You're very insightful."

"I'm not, actually. You just have a very straightforward problem: mental impotence. See it all the time in men. Tragic affliction."

He catches sight of her smirk and wants to shove her off the log.

"Have the two of you been able to fuck since the near-execution, by the way?" Susannah asks.

"Thank you for the advice, doctor," Guildford says sarcastically, head cocked to one side, "but that is really none of your concern. Try meddling in your own relationship."

"What relationship would that be?"

He frowns.

"Are you and Archer not...?"

"Archer?!" Susannah catches herself and continues more softly. "In his dreams. Not to be insensitive," she adds, making Guildford roll his eyes. "But no, definitely not. Trust me, if he'd been lucky enough to have me in his bed, he wouldn't have been lookin' at..."

It's far too obvious that Susannah has just caught herself again, but Guildford's glad she did. His trust in his wife is absolute. That doesn't mean he would appreciate Archer attempting to come between them. He rises, deciding to forget Archer and focus on Jane.

"Try the sex thing," Susannah says on their parting. "It might help, is all!"

"Try the minding your own business thing!"

Guildford actually does plan on trying something thanks to this conversation, but it's not sex. (Yet. Later? Gods, yes.)

He doesn't try to sleep that night, not yet. He lies on his back in the dark, listening to the low murmur of conversation from the lookouts tending the campfire, to the sound of his own even breathing. He stares up at the trees, their shapes black against the blue-black night. Sometimes, he stares past them at the stars.

Before dawn, Guildford gently rouses Jane from where she sleeps beside him. Between treating the injured and being startled awake by his screams, she hasn't been getting as much rest as she needs, but he hopes she'll understand. Taking her hand, he leads her to a clearing a short distance from the camp. Someplace they'll be able to see the sky change colour ahead of sunrise. They walk with soft steps. The yawn Jane can't stifle has the round, open notes of birdsong. Soon, real birds begin to sing. He wonders whether any Ethians are among them.

Gradually, everything brightens.

"Stand here," Guildford says, taking Jane's hands in his plea, then dropping them and backing off to a safe distance.

She doesn't argue. He's told her about his mother.

Before the light of day can rush across the horizon, Guildford closes his eyes and concentrates. There's no risk of imminent death to compel him now. He has to know if he can do it anyway. Instead of resisting thoughts of the past, he permits himself to recall how it feels to change, concentrating until the sensation is alive in him. Instead of disconnecting from the present, he inhales the earthy scent of the forest, shifts his boots on the ground, knows without looking that Jane is standing where he left her, waiting for him, trusting him.

He changes just before daybreak.

In this form, his hearing is keener, keen enough to pick up Jane's quiet gasp from across the clearing. His own steady breathing expands his strong lungs, drawing in details of his environment that are beyond his human senses. What he likes best is Jane's smile as she approaches him, the soothing strokes of her hands on his face. He stands there on four legs, enjoying her gentle touch and the heat of the sun on his flank, then, closing his eyes to the world once more, Guildford changes back.

He's stumbling forward into Jane's arms before he realizes he never moved away from her before trying to transform. Obviously, his human form is smaller and therefore less of a hazard, but Guildford isn't convinced that was the ruling instinct. It felt more like... he just knew he could do it. He was sure of himself, in that body and in this one, and in whatever he is during the fleeting moment in between.

"Guildford! How did you do that?" she demands, full of awe and urgent curiosity. "I haven't seen you control it since the night we escaped the Tower!"

Yes, that's true. After bearing her away from that place, he turned back into a man. That's how he was when the Ethians found them, and how he remained through the night. At dawn, he despaired, once again becoming a horse against his will. It persisted. Day, horse. Night, man. The terrible dreams. This morning has been Guildford's first time taking the reins, so to speak. It's a colossal relief, and he looks lovingly into Jane's eyes, knowing she understands that much, even if she can't yet explain the rest.

It seems to him that the best words to say are, "I've always wanted to kiss you at daybreak."

"That's a lot of effort for a kiss," Jane observes.

"Then you'd better make it worth it," he retorts with a grin.

And he holds her, and she does.