#makes my life easier but a bit boring for y'all

[lesbiansloveseokjin]

day 7/548 of jungkook's military service

this selca was posted on 130612 with the caption:

This is Jungkook. Thank you so much to all the fans who came to our showcase today. It was really fun~ It's all thanks to the fans. It really hit me that I finally debuted.. ㅎㅎ I hope the fans had fun..

#방탄소년단 Thanks to all the people who came to the debut showcase! Come back carefully! Also, let's meet at M!Countdown tomorrow ^^*

(trans cr: Iraide @ bts-trans)

here's the debut showcase and waiting room interview:

bangtan bomb filmed over 130612-130614:

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC Pick a Fruit: Something To Look Forward to in 2024 ❄🎁🎊

Sup y'all, I'm finally back again! I have not been as active on this blog as I've wanted to be these past two months, but hopefully that will change a little bit as the year settles to a close for winter.

I'm also excited to use my Tarotwave deck which just arrived in the mail this past week. I'm grateful to have backed it on Kickstarter! I know this is gonna be one deck of cards I'll be very amped to use on this blog. It's like an early Xmas gift ^^

2023 has been a bumpy ride for many people (and yours truly), and the biggest thing most of us want to know is how our next year is going to be, and if there's anything good in store. So I made sure to focus on asking for only the most positive and beneficial things that will bless you in this reading, because I want 2024 to be exciting for you and I wanna hype you up.

Pick one of the squishable fruits below to find out a hint or two about what you have to look forward to in 2024.

1 - Strawberry 2 - Orange 3 - Banana

Pile 1: Strawberry

Queen of Cups + VI The Lovers, IX The Hermit, Eight of Wands; Trillion, Anything is Possible, Guidance

For you, pile 1, 2024 is gonna be filled with pleasant little surprises that could appear out of nowhere. The Trillion card is connected to Aquarius and talks about living by ones own truth, but the zodiac is also connected to Uranian forces, helping us receive out-of-the-box insights to whatever challenge we're facing.

I think this pile has spent a great amount of time working on themselves. I don't know if you relate to the word "shadow work" or not, but this feels like you're in the tail end of that cycle. You've grown a lot in emotional maturity over the past months, and perhaps have released some form of major karmic or generational baggage that was weighing on you emotionally. Now it's going to become easier for you to express who you are because the extra emotional burden will not be there as before.

I'm sensing a vast expansiveness to this pile as a result, a willingness to be open to life. It's a calm and steady feeling. This is "come whatever may" energy. 2024 will be a chance for you to settle into the quiet, because that's where the miracles will appear. I feel like this is a quiet that's been anticipated, more relieving than boring. This is a space of being in the flow with life and being ready for whatever comes next without mental resistance.

For some, this could be a romantic reading. I tend to think of strawberries as a rather flirtatious fruit! And we have the Lovers here too. Typically the Lovers talks about decisions, but I don't feel here like you're in a position to be making some kind of clear cut choice at the moment. This is more emphasizing on loving the feeling of love itself. This is a carefree disposition to allowing your heart to guide you when things look overwhelming on the surface.

There's no need or pressure to rush into any kind of decision even if there's an eagerness to do so. You're being encouraged to fully take time out and explore your feelings so you can create a better alignment with the type of person you desire in your life. You're allowing yourself to be curious and open minded without the unnecessary input that others may give you unsolicited. The Hermit is in an empowered position here.

I think 2024 will give you time to lean back rather than pursue, which is not the same as being avoidant. We have the eight of wands here; when the opportunity strikes, it can strike hot! But the key is that you're taking in this energy rather than chasing it. In the meanwhile, you're filling up your cup and learning how to be fulfilled with this peaceful space, and you'll find it easier to be patient when it comes to finding whatever you've been seeking.

You're learning that you have all the time you need to stay in this calm state, and that rushing with everything doesn't always speed up fate. The sense of having more time to sleep and nurture yourself will greatly benefit you when the time comes to receive this incredible spiritual insight, love, or blessings in the material world.

Pile 2: Orange

XI Justice + 2 of Cups, 4 of Cups, 5 of Swords; Single, What You Seek is Seeking You, Stories

For pile 2, the biggest keyword here is Clarity. If you've been in the fog about something for a while, that may start to clear up in 2024. Something that seemed difficult to tackle before will be greatly simplified for you. The Single card is Mercury energy and talks about beginnings in a conventional sense. So you'll look forward to starting over with something next year, perhaps from scratch, so it'll be better than before. You can deal with issues with a fresher mindset.

This is a specific message for a few, but if lately you feel like you've been involved in rumors, gossip, or some form of negativity spread through word of mouth, I see this dissolving in 2024. It will swing back around. Perhaps whoever is spreading the rumor will receive one in return. No hexing done here, but it looks like karma will put in the work to show that you or someone you know is innocent. If someone you know is gaslighting or spreading lies, they will feel the brunt of this. Any negativity sent to you will simply spin around and cancel itself out. So don't worry about other peoples' perceptions in 2024, they will undergo a big shift.

For others in this pile, you may have had some disagreements with your love or even business partner. Either one large disagreement that's been on the back burner for a while, or it's little ones that add up. It'll be different amongst you. But in 2024 these tiny issues will be more easily resolved. Things won't seem to complicated to untangle once any given situation is figured out.

Your energy is spent a lot more here on moving forward and looking for something new next year than dealing with conflicting relationships. With the four of cups, you're ready to move past whatever company or crowd is messing with your mood because you know better shit is on the way and you don't want to waste your emotional currency on anything draining or inherently unsatisfying.

You would rather move into what is right for you than deal with the drama, though I think there will be times when it circles back around and you may have to confront it again… It won't be as difficult as it was in the past, however. You're not dealing with so much confrontation in 2024, especially if you're actively prioritizing healthy relationships and practice healthy boundaries with others.

This may look to be the year where the art of setting mental boundaries is perfected. Mental boundaries means choosing what you'd rather think about than let your mind run loose. No longer trapped in the undertow of other peoples' nonsense, you're starting to get your life fully together. This will spill outwards into the outer world, and this will greatly help ease off the kind of bothersome encounters with people that may have popped up in 2023.

Some of you may identify as people pleasing, which is something that I see less of for you next year. It's almost like the vibe of seeing a kid watch a bunch of other children bully each other during recess, only for that lone kid to decide to go their own way and read a book. He might even make a new friend that way, who knows? 2024 will give you the chance to shrug certain expected worries off your back like water off of duck's feathers. Citrus is clean and refreshing. You can expect only the simplest and cleanest interactions moving forward (yes, I have Simple and Clean inside my head now, oof). It's all about keeping your eye on the prize that awaits ahead.

Pile 3: Banana

9 of Cups + XIV Temperance, XVIII The Moon, 7 of Wands, Prism, Projections, Power

Wow, so much lunar energy in pile 3's cards! I see bananas as lunar because they're shaped like crescents (and to go bananas is to be a lunatic!). Then you got two different version of moon cards on top of one another!

In this deck, the Moon has a softer and more subtle approach than the RWS. There's a greater emphasis on dreams and intuition with this card. Have you been connected to or manifesting with the lunar cycles? Or creating a dream journal to track your visions? If you've been interested in doing so, now would be a good time to look into it, as a confirmation. You're in alignment to receive!

This pile is really feeling the buzz of desires fulfilled and is pushing beautiful energy out into 2024. I'm not seeing specific desires listed here, just the overall potency of manifestation magic. This could possibly be a big year for you even. Just try not to get too carried away with the need to make 2024 into a particular kind of good year. Even if great things are lined up, allow room for the uncertainties to occur. These moments will happen to test you, and you'll need to stand your ground and be firm with what you want without your worries getting the best of you.

Pile 3, with Projections and Power? You are gonna look forward to 2024 being like a canvas for you to paint on. You can decide to paint whatever you wish, for a window of time as brief as the full moon. That's why your other three tarot cards are trying to slow you down a little bit, lol. Even if great luck is offered to you, be careful with how it factors into your life. You're being asked to have modesty, which must mean you're set to achieve or receive something very nice. But yeah, a sense of humbleness and gratitude will really help you here.

You're being reminded with the Moon that you don't have all the answers right now, and it's okay. Oftentimes the wish doesn't get granted until we lose our attachment to it or get sidetracked with life, then it's able to come in more easily. When we try to act resistant and overly arrogant with the seven of wands, it can bite back against us.

I'm also getting a message here about being humble with your blessings so to not attract unwanted attention from people. You could end up in a position where some may throw a lot of projections on you, but you will need to remind yourself of your Prism qualities. Prism is like pure spirit, it's the card of being spiritually aligned with one's self. You will be reminded that beyond good and bad fortunes, the pure spirit of self doesn't change. That is your power source.

Another thing you may look forward to are psychic upgrades. If you've been working on your psychic talent, you could receive a major boost this year. You may experience more clairsenses or messages in your dreams. These experiences and abilities will allow you to find the right time to act or wait on certain choices in your life. Your intuition is being greatly sharpened and amplified in 2024. Use this power with great care.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[bluepeachstudios]

GitS Asks!

Not as much as he does the boys. April's pretty good about having her own fun, she's got a family to go back to, she can separate herself when she needs to. She can handle herself!

Noted 👀 Though I don't read fanfic very often because I'm. Usually too busy writing it. fhgdkjgf I'm already behind on stuff I want to read. I will put it on my List.

Leo's least favorite is math, he finds it boring as all hell. Raph's least favorite is chemistry. He cannot get any of it right for the life of him. He accidentally made mustard gas once and from then on Donnie was paired with him to make sure that didn't happen again. Mikey's is history! He has a hard time just sitting still and listening. Donnie's least favorite is the mystic arts. He thinks it's unnecessary for him, because he doesn't have a mystic weapon.

Ghost just tells them he's going to teach them something today and they pretty much all show up. If they miss a day, he doesn't scold them about it or anything, he just lets them miss it. If they don't understand something because of it later, he can just teach it to them again. Normally they don't miss more than a day at a time, and if they do there's usually something else going on. Ghost is homeschooling them, and it's not like they're going to college. The point is learning, not to make them suffer when they don't feel like it. ;)

Splinter was giving the boys an education! He taught them colors, and alphabets, and how to read, how to clean, how to take care of themselves. Splinter taught them a lot, and Ghost knows that. He's not mad for Splinter focusing on the more practical things and less on the academic side.

Oh yeah he's gonna flip y'all.

"Who?"

Spoilers! Though I am now thinking of that 03 episode during fast forward where they go to the gala and Donnie is wearing a purple suit. Thank you.

Ghost is still kinda active with the homeless community. He doesn't talk to them, or really show himself at all, but he drops off blankets and clothes he finds when scavenging.

Ghost doesn't know about Don stealing from ATMs at the moment! He won't mind it, though. He's not hurting anyone but big banks by doing it.

Oh you think Ghost's self-blame and self-hatred is bad now? NOTHING compared to what it would be if he'd fallen into Rise after experiencing SAINW. He knows what's going to happen to his brothers. He knows he disappeared, and that the world ended because of it. He'd work a lot harder. I don't think he'd pay any attention to the kids, honestly, I think he'd be neck-deep in making a portal, trying everything, retrying it.

Ghost has accepted that he's stuck in his dimension. Donatello would not.

The TECH! It's so much easier to get high-grade metal and supplies in Rise! He can get SO MUCH SHIT! No wonder Donnie can build things so nicely, people dump out nice stuff!

Welcome to ow, I'll be your host-

Spppoiiilerrsssss? I think? Probably???

It does! There was a poll quite a ways back that even asked if Ghost ends up with Leo or with the other boys. He's in Tahiti. ;)

Phantom is far less scarred than Ell. He still has the leather jacket because I feel like he deserves a leather jacket. Ghost doesn't have the scar over his eye because of Phantom. When Ghost disappeared to the Battle Nexus to try and find answers, Phantom immediately started looking for him. Ghost had only meant to go for a day, but was trapped by Big Mama and forced to fight. Phantom found him and pulled him out of there before he ever got the scar.

Some things are universal constants :)

Whether they survive it or not is different.

Oh 03 Donatello is completely destroyed. He blames himself entirely. He works all the time to get his lost brother back. Ell and Spirit don't blame Donny, but Mike does a bit. It's easier to be mad at someone than the universe.

w... what about it....

Bold of you to assume that Ghost isn't going to break that curse

Rise boys are starting to realize their mentor isn't invincible and immortal. Terrifying thing to learn.

Thank you!! Glad you like it!

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living [Chapter Three]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, violence, PTSD, smut (Contains our beloved Defenders and lots of plot twists)

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: Posting one last one for this series for now! Feel free to leave feedback so I know how interested y'all are in more of this one because it's a bit of an undertaking to transfer full series to tumblr!

Heading back to the couch with my first aid kit in one hand and a soapy, wet washcloth in the other, I eyed Matt from the corner of my eye. He was fairly relaxed, leaning against the back of the couch and waiting patiently for my return. When I set the first aid kit down onto the coffee table I hesitated, eyeing the spot beside Matt before forcing myself to just sit down beside him. I’d already offered my help bandaging his cut, I was going to have to touch him. Sitting near him on the couch was sort of unavoidable, too.

Licking my lips, I fidgeted with the wet cloth in my hands. “I’ll need to clean the cut out first.”

Matt leant forward, his elbows resting against his knees as he turned his head towards the coffee table, giving me easier access to the cut. 

“Do whatever you need to,” his deep voice told me.

My jaw clenched at his words and the heat it drew to my cheeks. His mouth tugged up into a slight smirk, almost as if he could see the reaction he’d just had on me. I shook my head lightly, shaking out any inappropriate thoughts.

Don’t make this weird, Olivia.

Very gently, I grabbed his chin in one hand and tilted his head at the angle I needed, trying hard not to focus too much on the rough stubble and warm skin beneath my fingers as I did. Releasing his chin, I focused that hand higher on his head, brushing away the soft brown hair from his temple and holding it out of my way. Matt’s eyes fluttered closed at my touch, slightly leaning into my hand. I paused for a moment at the subtle movement, trying to control my breathing. Letting out a slow exhale, I began carefully washing the cut with the cloth. 

“So you know I’m a lawyer,” Matt said, breaking the silence. “What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I tried to keep my focus on cleaning out his cut, trying hard to ignore the way his shoulder brushed against my arm as he adjusted his position on the couch a bit.

“I’m a programmer,” I answered him. “Nothing exciting; I create programs for companies to help with data storage among other boring things.”

“What uh…what made you choose that?” he asked curiously.

I pulled the cloth away from the now cleaned cut, removing my hand from his hair and watching as it fell forward, stopping just before his injury. It wasn’t a deep cut; nothing remotely serious. Something I could have easily helped him with in another way if that wasn’t sure to send him running from my apartment.

“I don’t know exactly,” I admitted as I set the cloth on the cover of the first aid kit, my fingers rifling inside for some ointment. “I guess I liked the idea of creating things,” I told him. “And programmers, in the right company, can make a decent living–though New York City is still expensive,” I said with a slight laugh, causing Matt to chuckle in agreement. “And…working from home was appealing, I suppose.” I opened the ointment, putting a little on my finger before closing the cap and setting it back into the kit. Then I turned my attention back on Matt, gingerly sliding the hair away again as I applied the ointment to his wound. “I like the quiet. And being in my own space,” I continued as I turned back to the coffee table, wiping off the excess ointment from my fingers on the washcloth before searching for a bandage that would work. “I’m not a big fan of being around too many people, so working in an office, with co-workers and bosses always hovering…that just sounded awful.” I grabbed the appropriate bandage and began peeling the protective coverings off. “And I can work from anywhere, too. If I want to just move to a new city or a new state even, my bosses don’t care. I can even take long vacations if I want since I can work from anywhere as long as I have internet access. It’s…freeing, not feeling…stuck in one place.”

Suddenly I paused, my face heating up as my hands hovered just over his face. My eyes widened as I realized I’d been rambling.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, the apology coming out rushed. “I tend to babble to avoid awkward silence when I’m nervous.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Matt said, a smile fighting its way onto his lips. “I like listening to your voice. It’s…soothing.”

“Oh…uhm, thanks?” I let out a nervous laugh, my stomach twisting into knots. “I’ve uh, never been told that before.”

I focused hard on applying the bandage to his cut, willing my hands not to shake so much. Once I got the bandage in place, I smoothed it out across his temple before leaning backwards on the couch, my hands dropping into my lap.

“All done,” I informed him, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended.

Matt turned on the couch, positioning himself towards me better. He smiled warmly in my direction, his eyes focused just somewhere above my left shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate the middle of the night medical care.”

I bit my lip, laughing softly. “Well I appreciate the middle of the night safety check-in.”

Matt snorted a laugh in response as he reached a hand out, finding my knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Anytime,” he said, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “But I should probably let you get back to sleep.”

I sighed slowly, glancing down at my hands in my lap. “Right,” I said half-heartedly.

Matt’s head tilted at my response, his brows furrowing together as the smile left his face.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head, knowing he couldn’t see the gesture as I dug my thumbnail into the fabric of my sweatpants, toying with the cloth nervously.

“No, I…,” I began, pausing for a moment as I repeatedly fidgeted with the fabric of my pants. “I just don’t think I’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. After…everything.” I bit my lip nervously, chewing it for a moment. “I’ve got some broken glass to clean up anyway.”

Matt sat straighter against the couch now, a frown crossing his lips. “Broken glass?”

An awkward laugh escaped me briefly, the sound humorless. “I broke my lamp, if you remember me saying that a bit ago. Haven’t had a chance to clean that up.”

“Would you like some help?” Matt offered.

My eyes went wide as I focused my attention back on him, quickly shaking my head. “No, no that’s alright,” I told him in a rush. “I’m not going to keep you any longer. I just…didn’t feel right letting you go back to your apartment with a bleeding cut on your head.”

A moment of silence passed between us. I continued to awkwardly fidget with the fabric of my sweatpants between my fingers as Matt appeared to be in thought.

“If…if it would make you feel more comfortable,” Matt began hesitantly, “I can stay for a bit? Keep you company?”

My mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came out. Had he really just offered that? There was no way I could say yes to that, I would sound childish–having a nightmare and not wanting to be alone. How would that make me look to him? A grown woman afraid to be in her own apartment at night, afraid of the dark and what lurked in her dreams?

“Honestly, I don’t mind,” Matt continued. “I can go into the office a bit later tomorrow morning if I need to. That’s the beauty of working for yourself,” he said with a grin. “I really don’t mind. It would actually make me feel better. If I’m not intruding, of course.” He cleared his throat, and I swore I saw a tinge of pink rise on his cheeks. “And I…I'm finding I enjoy your company.”

Chewing the inside of my cheek for a moment, I considered his offer, trying hard not to focus on the last thing he’d said. I really didn’t want to be alone, and he was offering–quite persistently for him to not really mean it.

“If you’d like,” I answered him slowly. “And if it really won’t affect you having to work tomorrow. I would feel awful if I was the cause of you being tired all day.”

“Really,” Matt said, settling back into the couch. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay, I’m just going to grab the broken bits of my lamp and toss them,” I told him as I rose from the couch. “There’s like three pieces, it shouldn’t take me more than a moment.”

“I’ll be fine right here, unless you’d like some help?”

“No, it’s not a big deal,” I said sheepishly. “I’ll just be a moment.”

I hurried down the hall to my bedroom. My sheets were still half thrown on the floor from where I’d woken in a fit. I rushed over to the side of my bed and collected the broken lamp, careful not to cut myself on the glass as I did. Satisfied I’d grabbed all of the pieces, I headed back down the hallway, blushing as Matt smiled when he heard me.

“So you said you don’t particularly enjoy being around a lot of people,” Matt called out as I headed into the kitchen. “Can I ask what drew you to the city then? Seems…not the best place for you if that’s the case.”

I tossed the lamp into the garbage before glancing at him on the couch. His arm was thrown over the back of it and his head was turned slightly towards where I was in the kitchen. I smiled softly at the sight of him sitting there.

“I don’t,” I admitted. “Like being around a lot of people, that is. But I lived in Anchorage, Alaska for a few years before I came here. I wanted a change. Not that Anchorage is quiet, it’s actually the most populated city in Alaska, but it’s…isolated. Everything there sort of is. It’s kind of what drew me there initially.” I cleared my throat, as I walked into the kitchen, opening a cabinet and pulling some glasses down. “I haven’t done much grocery shopping yet, so my hostess options are limited, but would you like some water?”

“Yes, thank you,” Matt answered.

Brief silence followed as I filled up two cups of water and headed back towards the couch. Matt held his hand out and I gently handed him the cup of water. He took a drink at the same time I did.

“The coffee table is about a foot and a half in front of you,” I murmured. “If you’d like to set the glass down.”

“Thank you,” Matt said, smiling lightly as he leaned forward to do just that. As he leaned back against the couch, he curiously asked, “What was Alaska like? I've never left the city.”

I smiled, glancing down at the cup in my hands and fiddling with the condensation on the glass. My mind’s eye recalled the place I’d spent quite a few years calling home; part of me missed it already.

“It was…beautiful,” I said, voice quiet, almost reverent. “I’d been traveling briefly right before having moved there,” I told him, fighting hard to keep the memories attached to that buried deep. “But I’d never seen any place like it. The mountains are just…massive. They tower behind Anchorage and all the buildings and houses there. Just always in the distance, always standing so tall; I’d never seen anything quite like them before. And the forests…” My voice trailed off as my eyes closed, remembering the forests. “They’re wild. There’s so many trails there to hike. So many different types of spruce trees, cedars, and birches. Moss literally coats every inch of the forest ground. It’s just… so green . So much life everywhere. You could look up and spot bald eagles or magpies; moose and their young always on the side of the roads or cutting through backyards in the city.” I smiled as a memory surfaced and I told him, “I’d run into one on a trail once. It was a trail I always ran on in the city; I was definitely lucky she didn’t charge me because they’re massive in person.” 

Matt chuckled at my words and as I opened my eyes, I noticed he’d closed his at some point. A small smile passed my lips as I continued. 

“There’s bears everywhere too–black and brown. You have to wear bells when you hike and carry bear mace, just in case. And when you travel out towards the ocean, the shoreline isn’t sand, it’s just these beautiful black river rocks. They’re uncomfortable to walk on, but there’s just so many that it’s…incredible,” I told him, glancing down at my hands holding the glass of water in my lap. “Sometimes you can see the whales breaching the water. Or otters swimming with their young. Seals sunbathing on the shore–and for the record, they smell very bad. Like shit and rotting fish." Matt laughed along with me, his head leaning towards me, eyes still closed. “In the summer, the sun never really sets. It could be eleven at night and it perpetually looks like the sun is just about to go down, but it never does.” I sighed, picturing summers in Anchorage. “There’s this flower called fireweed; it’s everywhere, blanketing the grasses in bright pink like the ground is on fire. There’s so many of them that you can smell it in the air.” I laughed lightly. “And the air is definitely cleaner there. That’s for sure.”

I paused, taking in the look of peace on his face. Slowly his eyelids fluttered open, his head turning towards me and his eyes almost catching mine.

“You paint a beautiful picture,” he said quietly. “It sounds like you loved it there.”

I exhaled slowly, nodding my head. “I did,” I told him. “I loved hiking the trails. Even learning to do a bit of mountain climbing. I never got into the fishing or hunting out there though–not really into the idea of killing things," I said, a shiver running down my spine as I continued on, pushing more memories farther back. "I visited some glaciers and even tried foraging. I tried hard to start a life out there but I was just…lonely.”

“So you moved here?” Matt asked.

“So I moved here,” I agreed.

“And are you feeling less lonely?” he asked me curiously.

I smiled softly in response, capturing my bottom lip between my teeth as I eyed him. “Well, I’ve been here a week and made a few friends already. So, I’d say so.”

A warm smile crossed Matt’s face, his eyes creasing at the corners. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Whether it was the lack of sleep and early hour, or the look on his handsome face, I suddenly found myself blurting out, “I prefer talking to you without the glasses.” And when I realized what I said, I grimaced, slapping a hand to my face and groaning audibly. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled out behind my hand, hearing Matt laugh at my words. “That is probably such an incredibly rude thing to say.”

“No,” Matt said between a chuckle. “Not at all. Most people find my eyes unsettling.”

My hand quickly slid from my face, my jaw dropping. “What?” I asked him incredulously.

He lifted a hand, gesturing at his eyes. “I’ve been told they make people uncomfortable so I wear the glasses.”

“Wow, who would be such an asshole to even feel that way, let alone say that to you?” I asked in disbelief.

He shook his head. “You’d be surprised. But actually, you’ve been far from rude. Most people ask me about my blindness. Whether I was born this way or what happened. You…haven’t. It's sort of a first.”

"I mean, that seems pretty rude to just ask someone," I told him before taking a sip of water. As I set the glass onto the coffee table I added, "It's not like that's all there is to you."

He smiled, a look crossing his face that I couldn't quite place.

"You're very right," he said gently. His hands fidgeted in his lap for a moment before he spoke again. "You know I'm expected to say I don't miss my sight; I wasn't born blind. There was an accident that caused it," he told me. "But I would love to see the sun rise again." He turned towards me further, his knees brushing against mine as he did. "Or the sun that never sets in Alaska."

I felt my face flush not for the first time this morning at his words. Nervously I pushed a strand of hair behind my ears, my breath coming in short. 

"I think Foggy is wrong," I joked, my voice a little breathless. "Pretty sure your super power is flirting."

Matt barked a laugh at my words, the deep sound rumbling brightly through my living room. 

"He may have mentioned you said I'm a flirt and not your type because of it," Matt countered.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of other options," I teased him lightly.

"Oh, and why is that, would you say?" he teased back with raised brows and a boyish grin on his face.

I rolled my eyes, raising a hand to my burning cheeks. "You're an attractive man, Mr. Murdock. And you're quite good at being charming."

He leaned towards me on the couch just a bit, the grin still on his face. "But not quite good enough to tempt you?" he mused.

I pulled my legs up onto the couch, crossing them in front of me as I tried to steady my racing heart.

"I don't…really date," I told him awkwardly. "Certainly not someone with wandering eyes."

The moment it came out, I clapped a hand over my mouth. Matt burst into a laugh again, his hand reaching out and resting gently against my knee as he did.

"I didn't mean it like that," I whined out behind my hand. My cheeks reddened further in embarrassment. "I meant I don't like guys who are always looking for something better."

"I know what you meant," Matt told me, his hand squeezing my knee. "Poor choice of words, I get it. It happens often around me." He cleared his throat, the toothy smile still on his face as he stared somewhere around my mouth. "But for the record, I'm not that kind of guy."

From behind my hand that I was trying to embarrassingly hide behind, I asked out, "Were you not just out late last night on a date? And now you're here, just one night later, flirting on my couch?"

Matt's smile faltered at my words. He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly closed it again. He was clearly frustrated, wanting to say something but for some reason not able to. Eventually he exhaled deeply before answering.

"I was on a date last night, yes," he responded slowly, carefully answering me. "But nothing happened. Despite what I let Foggy think, I don't actually sleep around. And I don't go on that many dates." He cleared his throat, scratching his forehead for a moment. "And if I was interested in someone, my eyes wouldn't be wandering for any other reason besides the fact that I'm blind and can't help it."

A laugh bubbled up and I buried my face in my hands again. When I looked up, Matt was grinning back at me.

"You did not just make that joke!"

Matt shrugged in response. "Just trying to get you to stop being so embarrassed by it. I'm not insulted, I promise."

"Fine," I groaned, letting my hands fall back into my lap. "I'll try to let it go."

He relaxed back into the sofa and I watched him quietly.

"What would you be doing if I hadn't shown up?" he suddenly asked me.

My eyes crossed the room and landed on the TV. 

"Probably would throw something on television to zone out to. Something that wouldn't be triggering," I answered him softly. 

His head tilted and he smiled softly. "Feel free to put something on, if you like."

I bit my lip, chewing it thoughtfully in the silence. Matt seemed to pick up on my struggle.

"I can listen to whatever you’d like if you would like me to stay," he told me.

"You can stay," I said slowly. "But I don't really know what I'd put on."

He licked his lips, looking at me curiously. "What were you watching earlier?"

My head ducked quickly down and I laughed awkwardly. I ran my hand through my hair a few times before I admitted, "One of those really horrible Christmas romance movies…one of the least nightmare inducing things I could think of." I paused before mumbling, "Didn't seem to work though."

Matt openly tried to stifle his laugh at my admission and I frowned.

"They're a guilty pleasure to those of us lonely, nearing middle-age and middle-aged women," I said defensively, pointing a finger at him. 

He held up his hands in mock surrender, fighting back the smile on his face and doing a terrible job at it.

"I'm sorry," he teased, not sounding too sorry. "I just didn't peg you as the type to watch those."

I rolled my eyes before burying my face in my hands, entirely embarrassed now.

"Maybe I should have sent you home bleeding," I grumbled into my hands.

I felt his weight shift on the couch and I stiffened momentarily as I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. When I glanced up, pulling my face from my hands, Matt had a serious expression on his face. All traces of his previous laughter now gone.

"Olivia," he said, tone as serious as his face, "please put on whatever terrible, romantic Christmas movie that is playing right now. I'd be happy to watch it with you." He paused, a playful smirk breaking his serious composure suddenly. "Or listen to it, in my case."

I frowned at him across the small space between us on the couch. The weight of his hand became very apparent on my shoulder and I tried to ignore it. Instead, I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. As if he could read my thoughts he spoke again.

"I'm being serious," he said, sliding his hand down my shoulder, down the length of my arm before he gently brushed his fingers over my knuckles. I shivered at his touch. "I apologize for laughing before."

A small grin spread across my face. "I mean, they are truly bad. Entirely unrealistic. But I…enjoy them. Better than the news, which always seems so grim lately."

"Please introduce me to this…genre of Christmas movie," Matt teasingly pleaded. 

I let out a deep sigh before leaning forward and picking up the remote from my coffee table. 

"If you insist, Matt," I joked as I turned on the TV. 

It took a moment for the TV to turn on, but when it did I immediately recognized which movie was playing. A very unlady-like snort of amusement escaped me before I could stop it.

"What?" 

"I've seen this one before; it looks like it's a few minutes in," I informed him.

He settled in closer beside me, his shoulder and leg brushing up against the side of me. I grabbed the soft, dark green blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over both of our legs. Matt adjusted it on himself, somehow scooting closer to me. I noticed he smiled softly as his fingers slid over the blanket a few times. 

I focused on the movie, but after a few minutes I felt Matt shift beside me. His mouth was suddenly beside my ear, warm breath tickling my skin. I could feel the goosebumps rise on my arms before he spoke.

"So what is this one about?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.

I swallowed hard at how close his face now was to me, his head tilted just slightly towards the television as his breath fell over the side of my face. I could feel the warmth radiating from him. The faint smell of cedar and clove was now noticeable at this proximity. If I turned my head, my lips would brush against the warm stubble on his cheek and that thought alone suddenly sent my heart hammering in my chest. 

Matt's head turned just a fraction towards me, almost instinctively as if he could tell what he was doing to me. His tongue darted along his lips again, a habit I noticed he did often, one I internally cursed for its ability to make me aware of his lips more than I should be. 

"Olivia?" he asked, his voice much quieter now.

I exhaled a shaky breath as quietly as I could. I noticed how Matt suddenly tensed beside me, his jaw clenching. 

"It's about this lawyer who is trying to get a historic and supposedly haunted inn sold," I told him, trying to remember the plot as I became even more aware of his thigh resting against mine under the blanket. "And this ghost comes alive every year twelve days before Christmas. She ends up falling in love with the ghost."

Matt twisted beside me, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead. "A ghost? She falls for a ghost?"

"Better than a mannequin " I quipped, heart steadying a bit as I focused on his utter disbelief. 

"You've got to be kidding," he deadpanned.

I smiled and shook my head. "Not at all."

"So how does it end? She falls for a living man?" he questioned. "Please tell me she does."

I grinned at him. "You know nothing about this genre of Christmas movie, Matt Murdock."

He scoffed and shook his head. "He returns to life, doesn't he?"

I nudged his shoulder with my own. "Maybe…"

Matt snorted. " How ? He's dead!"

I shrugged, my shoulder brushing against Matt's muscular arm as I did. "Christmas magic, of course."

Matt chuckled, the movement jostling me beside him. "Oh, right. Of course."

"We don't have to watch it…" I offered, turning my head towards him.

He slung his arm on the back of the couch behind me, his hand resting so close that his fingertips almost brushed my shoulder. He shot me a small grin and shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good," he said. "But I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to Foggy."

"Your secret is safe with me, Murdock," I joked.

“Oh, is it?” he teased.

He didn't say anything further, his face returning towards the direction of the screen; but I spent the following fifteen minutes trying to decipher what the devilish smirk on his face meant.

[hagofbolding]

hi! i hope this question makes sense. i was just wondering, do you have a specific process for blocking out the character poses? they way they "act" is really natural and lively, and the poses feel so specific to each character and their actions. do you use a lot of photo referencing and acting the pose out yourself to decide on the gestures?

thank you! i love the comic and i get really excited every time it updates. <3

OH I love this question, thanks so much! I definitely put an unreasonable of thought into every little expression and pose so I really appreciate that it's being noticed, haha.

I do many of my poses straight off the dome, but I definitely will use mirrors and photos for reference when I need to (which is often.) I have no issue with people who wanna use models to pose their characters (especially where extreme foreshortening/perspective may be involved!) but boyyy do I gotta say that continuing to practice gesture & figure drawing will do you wonders in saving time and getting more expressive poses - or at least, moving your character's design away from the generic CSP dummy. (I know it when I see it)

I start hammering out acting details pretty early in the thumbnails, and try to exaggerate things, because it's easier to reel it back in if I think it's getting too hammy and I also want to make sure I am set up to remember my exact intent/idea later one when I'm penciling/inking.

(Also, usually these are usually my favorite drawings. I wish this was what the whole dang comic looked like)

Something I like to keep in mind aside from obvious stuff like "watch movies/consume media/life draw to pick up cool acting & body language ideas" is also how to incorporate the characters' design with their little mannerisms. Buckthorn's glasses give him a really fun prop to play with.

Or like - if someone has long hair, would they play with it or mess with it when they're bored or frustrated? If they're shy, would they "hide" themselves with baggy clothes / accessories when they're uncomfortable? My another solution of mine for making what has been a very acting / dialogue driven comic more interesting has been "ALWAYS GIVE PEOPLE SOMETHING TO DO" because talking heads are boring.

Anyway: obviously things get tied down with pencils, goofy cartoony stuff gets grounded in some approximation of reality (unfortunately.)

And then, like, at least a month after I finish penciling I finally make it to inking & coloring this particular page. After having an indeterminate amount of time to obsessively think about the story and characters up to this point, I make several significant acting / drawing changes because I am a ding dong. I just wanted to point out the tweaks I made here - on the left page, I changed Sanctuary to appear more interested in tuning his instrument than looking like he's intently listening to Buckthorn. Because ultimately, the purpose of the scene was to make him look a bit dismissive of Buckthorn's complaint, it felt like a better pose.

I also felt that the forehead kiss felt a little more natural in this sequence & rolling into the panels on the page that follows these.

Anywayyy - I rambled longer than I intended here, but I love this stuff and I got excited. I hope y'all find it interesting and / or useful!

[torevbagel]

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Ch. 1

Glam x fem!OC

Y'all already know what it is, I'm back on my bullshit. Fair warning This is like soooooooo boring, but I like the 'runaway start a new life' trope ♡.

Synopsis:

Two houses

Both alike in dignity- nah just kidding

Two people

Two instruments

Six strings and two sticks

Anastasia comes from a prestigious house, one of harsh discipline. Her cello is her only saving grace.

Sebastian lives a double life, violin student by day, rock star by night.

Will they be able to help each other before it's too late?

Tw: basically the same stuff we see happen to glam, abuse, parental indifference, bad writing, blood

Music flows through the room as her nimble fingers dance across the neck of the large instrument. The bow gracefully caresses the strings, producing a graceful sound. She closes her eyes, attempting to transport herself from the room, away from the wretched man watching her with a scornful eye. All too soon, her movements cease. 

“Anastasia. Are you trying to embarrass this family?”

“No father,” she refuses to meet his eye.

“You play as if you are a nobody!”.

Anastasia stays silent as her father raises his voice. She knows what will come. 

“Hand! Now,” he reaches for the ruler, made of thin, slightly pliable metal. The previous wood ones had all broken, leaving nasty splinters that were a mess to clean.

“Yes father,” she keeps her voice steady, lifting the sleeve on her left hand. 

The hits come fast and hard, he stops after three. Nine total for the lesson. The crimson liquid beads quickly before sliding down her arm. A sanguine trail in its wake, she refuses to look at the wound inflicted onto her. 

“Go. prepare for bed,” she does not argue.

~

Anastasia sits on her perfectly made bed, corners tucked, pillow straight. A thin cover of pale pink separates her freshly showered body from the forgiving softness of the mattress underneath. 

Everything in Anastasia's life was like her bed. Perfect, presentable, straight laced and tidy; Yet, hiding something just beneath the surface.

She glances at her injured wrist for the first time that evening.

"Well, I assume it could be worse,” 

She slowly begins to do a shabby job at patching herself up, attempting to minimize the possibility of scarring. She pauses to put on a Schumann record, one of the 5 pieces of folk music begin with a slide crackle. A sign of her disregard for the fragility of the vinyl.

As the eloquent cello music trickles in one ear and out the other, she tucks the last bit of bandages away. Returning to her forgiving bed once more, she all but collapses into it. Completely exhausted from the day of rigorous training she endured.

“All I have to do is pass the entrance exam. Maybe father will be easier on me,” attempting to reason with herself, even if she does not truly believe it. 

Unable to tuck herself beneath the thin sheets, sleep overtakes her quickly.

~

The small silver alarm clock marks 7 am with its song, full of dissonance and no resolution. A manicured hand slaps down in a rough ungraceful manner, silencing the item until the next morning. Crawling off the bed reluctantly, Anastasia readies herself for the day. 

A graceful ankle length, long sleeve, off the shoulder dress. Forest green to compliment her auburn hair, to hopefully make her dull sage eyes brighter. Hair pulled into a perfect bun at the base of her neck. Delicate pearls adorn her collar and ears, a gift from her late grandmother.

She makes her way to the dining table, egg whites and asparagus on her plate, waiting for her.

“Are you ready for your exam, dear?” Ardelia Hearst doesn't even spare a glance at her daughter, continuing to gracefully sip white grape juice.

“Yes mother, I expect to be top 3 if not first,” Anastasia doesn't even attempt to garner her mothers full attention.

Richard snaps his eyes onto her.

“Why would you settle for anything less than first,” he states, his stare hardening into a glare.

She immediately pales, her mistake dawning on her.

He stands, making his way towards her when he is stopped by his wife.

“Now dear, you don't want her shaking during her performance. Punish her when she returns if you must,”

He considers her words for a moment, before returning to his seat.

“Eat. or you’ll be late,” 

Her mothers kindness doesn't go unnoticed as she finishes quickly, thanking the butler and her parents before heaving her cello onto her back. With one last glance she proceeds out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah there's that, and just throwing it out there I know this is super stereotypical fan fiction girlie stuff, but don't bully Stasia, please 😭 she can't take it (I also refuse to accept criticism obvi).

[songoftrillium]

🌼

So, what may come as a surprise to many is I consider Dead Mountain first and foremost to be what I'm calling an eldritch love story. Love comes in many languages, both good and absolutely terrible, and this transcendental gorechord explores that notion.

I won't bore y'all with more bars from the Song of Trillium, but I will share an excerpt from my rewrite of Ways of the Wolf I'm working into the Character Creation chapter of Dead Mountain. I am proud of this section and think it is quite evocative of beautiful imagery:

The Change

When earth breaks up and heaven expands, how will the change strike me and you in the house not made with hands? — Robert Browning, “By the Fireside”

A Wolf-Born will often grow up knowing they are somehow different from the other wolves, but are wholly unable to articulate it. They can go through all of the motions of mimicking the behavior of other wolves, only partly aware that a feeling, thinking person is developing behind that wolf. Feeling, reasoning, planning, and decision making, but all doing it as the other wolves around them do. There may be times they look around themselves, wondering if the other wolves see and feel the way they do.

It's not until the First Change that Garou finally become aware of the human within themselves. Human-born Garou often describe the same sensation when describing the way they now comprehend the spirit world and the new world awaiting their heightened senses.It is not that the Wolf-Born Garou’s mental abilities become greater, per se. Indeed, in no form do any mental attributes change. You face the world with what Gaia gave you. Rather, the Wolf-Born has noticed the inner human intellect that has sat quietly, waiting to be noticed. Bit by bit, the Wolf-Born begins to foster an awareness that emerges by way of paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally to the unfolding of life around them.

A yearling Wolf-Born is the very model of an enlightened child, finding small thrills and a deeply profound love of the living things around them. Galliards call this Anamae at its heart, every Wolf-Born’s spiritual bond and love of Gaia, a literal ‘soul-friend’. They watch the butterflies emerge, birds hatch, and hear wind in the trees. They sit and watch and clouds move across the sky, and sit out and feel the rain hitting their fur. Perhaps in a perfect world, a Wolf-Born would live their entire life in this blissful period of dawning love for existence, of life, and being alive.

When the Wolf-Born cub fully manifests her Garou powers, she is in for somewhat of a shock. As the cub shapeshifts into more intelligent forms, she communes with her human intellect for the first time, and makes a new kind of decision. Some say this is conscious, others instinctive, but in this moment, the Wolf-Born intervenes on Gaia’s behalf. The process is akin to having a great deal of written material but poor vision. Imagine seeing the colors orange, purple, and red for the first time. Finally the young Garou has a pair of “Glasses” to see. And what the Garou sees is something that comes with an understanding of the fundamental forces that made this thing. It dawns on this wolf in degrees of creeping, eldritch comprehension from which they will for the rest of their lives use to pull forth from a deep well of Rage. The concept of cause and effect, which the Wolf-Born may have figured out on their own growing up now has a name and an application, like a new intellectual chew toy to shred to pieces for Mother Wolf.

Newly gifted Wolf-Born Garou must also deal with walking on two legs. For some reason, Wolf-Born have a much more difficult time moving about on two legs than human-born do on four. Some Wolf-Born elders have insultingly claimed that human-born have an easier time yielding to Gaia’s will than Wolf-Born have fighting it by shifting to an unnatural form.

Wolf-Born view the forms of the Garou in a different manner than the human-born or Crinos-born. The other breeds are much more strategic in their use of which form is best suited to what occasion. Many of these two breeds have become quite skilled in picking the right form for a particular occasion.

A typical human-born may maintain its human form to speak with an old man at a gas station, then shift to her wolf form to follow a car to a mansion. From there she might assume Hispo form to leap a fence, then Glabro to jimmy a locked door, then Crinos to shatter a barred cell. Wolf-born, on the other hand, prefer the wolf form. She rarely sees anything awkward or handicapping in her wolf form, and remains in that shape. It is not that Wolf-Born are reluctant to shapeshift, rather, she simply sees her wolf form as adequate for most purposes.

To parallel the above example, the Wolf-Born remains in wolf-form, and uses her heightened senses to track the car in question. She leaps over the fence, and uses her body mass to burst open the locked door and the cell.

[thexsanctuaryx]

So what should I write? Since I was canceled on AGAIN for a very much needed medical appointment...

Posting a poll -- gonna start with other short stuff I have in the works while I wait to see what y'all have to say and leave it up and work on whatever gets the most votes by tonight and then go in order of highest to lowest from there.

So forewarning -- I apparently SUCK at summarizing my work??? So these don't even sound good?? It was hard to summarize a whole series in less than a para without making it sound bland and boring. I'll be posting more info about these for easier reference at some point. ANYWAY.

{ Everything's Magick } - witch/familiar - this universe centers around a shadow war that's been going on since about the beginning of time. The war started amongst the ancient pagan deities and trickled down to those of served them spanning all the way to present day. The story focuses on the witches and their familiars -- who are not just their guides but also their guardians. { In this iteration the familiars are humans who shift into animal form, each of which form serves a specific purpose in the fight against their enemies. } The Boys are Emma's familiar{s} and play a major role in this standalone original universe. Again, I've taken their characters and dropped them into this world -- though I've woven bits of MK canon into the lore.

{ Moon Knight Origin Story Alternate Universe } - this universe is canon divergent from the show in that the Boys knew about each other from childhood. Emma was their neighbor that they grew up with, bonding over coming from abusive and broken homes as well as having severe mental illness. They'd always protected each other until Emma's abusive mother threatened to have her locked up in a permanent facility. The Boys, however, refused to let that happen and ended up essentially running away together as soon as was possible. This story mostly centers around their life together before and then during some of the more canon events as they unfold.

{ Period Regency } - this universe is inspired by Jane Austen and Bridgerton but takes nothing from those canons. Another universe the Boys have been dropped into that is standalone and original. It follows the Boys, who are well to do gentlemen, in their pursuit of courting Emma, who is from more humble beginnings. It starts with them finally introducing themselves to her for the first time at a ball and soon after start courting her -- despite her abusive mother's meddling trying to stop it. They find common ground over such things as well as both living with mental illness and the Boys feel like they've finally found someone they can just be themselves with. All seems to be going well until an old friend -- seemingly childhood sweetheart -- comes back into town after being away on travels. Suddenly it doesn't seem so certain with Emma as the Boys question whether or not she'll rekindle that old flame or choose them after all.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

self-help

y'all liked my first fic, so here is another!

TW: Blood and injury; wound descriptions

------------------------

“Are you all alright?” Alcina asked, looking over each of the three creatures assembled in front of her. The blonde was slightly roughed up, but still stood up tall; the brunette bore a particularly nasty cut across her cheek, though it didn’t seem to bother her; and the redhead was slathered in man blood from getting to kill the intruder that had foolishly entered their castle and tried to murder them.

“Yes, Mother,” the blonde said, always quick to answer Alcina.

Alcina nodded. She looked at her other two daughters. “And you two?”

“I’m okay,” the redhead chirped. She seemed delighted to have killed something that day.

The brunette lightly touched the cut on her cheek, winced, then nodded, “I’m fine. It isn’t that bad.”

“We should still make sure any of that man-thing’s filth didn’t get into you,” Alcina said. She opened an arm and began guiding her middle child down one of the hallways. “Daniela, do what you will with the body. You’ve earned it.”

The redhead perked up, beaming, and bounded down a different hallway to where the corpse of the man had been left. Once she was gone, only the blonde was left behind in the foyer, and the girl instantly doubled over with a moan of pain, holding her stomach.

“Fuck,” Bela hissed. She was lucky for the dark material of her dress or else the blood seeping through the fabric would have easily been seen by her mother and sisters, and worrying them was the last thing she wanted. It was her own fault that she was shot. There were better things for them to focus on, anyway. Like Cassandra’s cut! Yes, that was definitely more important. She didn’t need any help.

Bela stepped forward and immediately crumpled to her knees when a spasm of pain rippled through her stomach. She bit down firmly to keep from crying out and tasted blood when her teeth pierced her tongue. Usually, the metallic tang would be rather appetizing, but something about it right now made her guts churn and twist up into knots, which definitely didn’t help her discomfort.

Kneeling, still holding her stomach, Bela rocked back and forth while taking several calming breaths. Breathing deeply furthered the strain in her stomach, while not breathing at all just made her chest hurt- she couldn’t win. All she could do was grit her teeth and bear with it like she did with everything. Don’t be a burden, don’t be a burden.

“Lady Bela?”

Bela looked up. A wiry, ash brown-haired maid was lingering at the opening of one of the cavernous hallways, shifting on her feet. Her dark amber eyes displayed nervousness, curiosity, and worry. The last emotion wasn’t an uncommon thing to see, at least towards Bela. Because of her general politeness to the castle workers, they tended to show more concern over her. The perks of not killing them for no reason, she supposed.

“Yes?” Bela said, forcing her voice to stay level and not quaver beneath the fiery edge of her own agony. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she especially didn’t want to cause a scene in front of a maid. That was almost as bad as her sisters seeing her in such a state--though, for what it was worth, the maids wouldn’t tease her endlessly.

“Are you alright?” the maid asked, taking a small step forward. She was looking Bela up and down, most likely searching for any wounds, and Bela once again thanked Mother Miranda for black fabric.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Bela answered. At the same moment, however, a second wave of pain roared through her and her vision was suddenly spotted by black snow. Did someone open the window? And how long had snow been black? None of her books ever said anything about this…

“Lady Bela?”

Bela blinked harshly, and the storm disappeared. No windows were open. Snow was not black. The maid got closer.

“Ahh--” Bela swallowed hard. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The maid seemed to be trying to hold herself together. She was probably fearing for her own life if something happened to one of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters under her watch. Bela would prefer to not have this one die, as she was nice enough to actually check on her instead of ignoring the situation like other maids would, even if Bela denied her physical state when she asked how she was.

“Yes, yes,” Bela said, nodding. “I’m alright. Just…stomach cramps?”

The maid blinked. “Do you even go through a menstrual cycle?”

Bela splayed her fingers open with a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The maid actually laughed, which was a rare thing to happen. But the laughter was quickly cut off when her eyes focused on something, clouding over with concern, and Bela realized she was staring at her hands.

There was blood on her hands.

Her blood.

Bela balled her fists and cleared her throat. She looked up at the maid. “Go.”

The maid opened her mouth, but thought against whatever she was planning on saying, not wanting to test Bela’s civility--not that Bela would have hurt her if she had stuck around to speak whatever was on her mind. She dipped her head and scurried off, glancing over her shoulder as she went.

Bela sighed. She wiped her hands on a part of her dress that wasn’t damp. She needed to do something about her problem before her mother or one of her sisters found out.

Standing up was difficult, and Bela was sure Cassandra or Daniela, most likely both, would have teased her if they saw her like this. When she began to walk, she felt blood slither in slow trails down her legs, itching her skin. She fought the urge to scratch until she made it to the privacy of her bedroom, then instantly began shredding her dress with her claws, throwing the tatters of wet fabric to the floor to be picked up later. Once the gown was off, she turned to her mirror to inspect the damage.

Red. The entire front of her body was smeared in red. And beneath the red, there were holes, some as small as her pinky, some as big as a coin, each even darker than the blood and packed full of shrapnel.

Bela had been a fool to go after the man-thing on her own. As reckless and wild as Cassandra and Daniela were with their fighting, they were strong, much stronger than she was. She had seen them withstand vicious stabs and strikes and shots that would have killed any normal person and keep slashing their claws as if nothing had happened, but it took a blast from a shotgun to put her down. She was so blinded by the idea of killing the intruder to impress her mother that she didn’t even think to create an actual plan until she became well-acquainted with leaden bullet chunks against her midsection.

The buckshot was evenly spread out along her abdomen, and maybe it could have passed as paint splattered all over her body if it wasn’t for the malevolent grey peeking out from liquid red. There was a particularly large cluster of holes on her left side, where an entire chunk of meat had been blown free from her waist, but they reached all the way over to her navel and up to the underside of her chest. The bullet pieces were the seeds of her agony, and she desperately needed to reap them from her flesh.

Bela began rummaging through one of her drawers, straining the lead lodged in her skin, and pulled out an old cotton gown she hadn’t worn in years. She walked over to the rocking chair in the corner near the window and sat down. She loved this chair, and it was a shame that it was going to be bled all over, but wood was easier to clean than cloth. She didn’t want to risk staining her bed right now.

Biting down on the gown, Bela began going over the buckshot. There were eighteen holes in total, all of them full of lead. She nearly miscounted a few times because she thought some of them were empty, but then realized the bullets were just buried in her tissue. There was one in particular that she didn’t even see, but could feel shifting around beneath her flesh like a hungry maggot. It made her stomach roil in disgust.

This was not going to be fun.

Bela’s hands were shaking as she brought them down to her stomach. Simply brushing the skin sent waves of torture shivering through her nerves, and she didn’t even want to think about what it was going to feel like to actually remove the slugs, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She couldn’t just leave them inside of her.

Taking a deep breath and biting down hard on the gown, Bela stuck her pointer finger and thumb into one of the holes. Instantly, her vision flashed black, then red, and then white, and she was sure she had passed out for a few eternal seconds. Even when she pried her eyes back open, all she saw was a messy mishmash of swirling colors, and she wondered if she had somehow gone blind. But then sight slowly oozed back to her, and she was able to see the grotesque image of her fingers stretching the edges of a bullet hole.

She swallowed down acidic bile and grasped the sides of the piece of lead.

For a moment, the stubborn little thing didn’t want to come out, and Bela began to fear that it was just a part of her now, forever fused with her flesh, burrowed within her like a leaden parasite, but then it popped out with a small spew of blood and she was able to catch her breath. She dropped the ball, which was no bigger than her pinky finger, and watched it bounce across the floor before rolling beneath her bed. She would get it later. Right now, she had its stupid siblings to deal with.

Breathing in deeply again, clamping down on the gown like before, Bela dug her fingers into a second hole that looked easy enough to scoop out. And it was, surprisingly. The blood proved to be a helpful lubricant and the bullet slid right out when she tugged, not bothering to put up a fight. She peered at it for a moment, squinting her watery eyes.

“You are an asshole,” she spat.

The bullet winked at her in response, the bright red blood coating its surface catching on the light inside the room and making it twinkle like a ruby. She flicked it away, and it left a line of crimson across her polished floors. She would clean that up later, too.

Third time’s a charm. Bela prepared herself again, breathing in and biting down, and dove into the next hole.

She didn’t know why she thought the process of pulling out bullets would suddenly be easier just because she succeeded with the first two. She was an idiot when she had gotten shot and she was an idiot now, trying to rid herself from the consequence of her actions.

Her claws slipped on the slickness of her blood and accidentally pushed the bullet in deeper.

Bela would have screamed if it weren’t for the blood that crawled up her throat, clogging her esophagus. She coughed, thinking that the bullet was going to come out of her mouth, and red splattered across her bare chest, staining her bra. Tears sprang to her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Her shaking hands hovered over the hole, but she couldn’t see the slug anywhere.

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Bela muttered. Did she push it so deep it breached one of her organs? What would happen if it did? How was she going to get it out?

She tried to stretch the edges of the wound, but stopped when she nearly threw up from the pain. She sobbed. What was she going to do? Bela leaned back against the chair, causing it to rock slowly. Maybe she could just leave the bullets inside of her. They probably wouldn’t kill her. She and her sisters were able to endure more than normal creatures could, so it would probably just be very uncomfortable. For the rest of her life.

She swallowed blood and bile. Having to spend the rest of eternity like this didn’t sound very appealing. In fact, it sounded like the complete opposite of appealing. Unappealing.

A sound snapped Bela out of her muddled thoughts; the doorknob was wiggling. Someone was coming into her room.

Lunging forward, nearly slipping on a tiny puddle of her blood, Bela slammed the door shut before it could be opened completely and pressed her weight against it. From the other side, she heard a noise of surprise.

“Bela? What is the meaning of this?”

Her heart sank into her bullet-infested insides. It was her mother. She just slammed the door in her mother’s face. Oh, she was in for it now.

Bela nearly opened up right then and there and got down on her knees to apologize, but one glance down at her horribly-scathed body made her think better of it. She had told Alcina that she was fine, and now she needed to live up to it, even if she felt like she was being swarmed and eaten by her own insects. She had to swallow down her hopeless devotion to her mother to keep her from worrying over her.

“Sorry,” Bela said, hoping her voice wasn’t wavering as much as she thought it was. “I, uhh-- I thought you were Cassandra or Daniela. They always barge into my room without knocking. I don’t appreciate it very much.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she still didn’t feel good about making up an excuse.

From out in the hallway, Alcina was quiet for a moment, and Bela wondered if she was going to break down the door and let herself in. But then she chuckled and said, “I see. I remember the time you tried to set traps for them when they kept interrupting your reading time.”

Bela laughed, which morphed into a groan of pain when her stomach strained. SHe masked it with a cough, then replied, “They were good traps!”

“Darling, you set up a board full of nails for them to step on.”

“My point still stands.”

“And a tripwire that would trigger a pot to swing into their face and knock them out.”

“You got to admit that it was pretty impressive that I was able to make that.”

Alcina chuckled again. “Yes, you have always been my most resourceful little one.”

Bela’s chest warmed with pride. The praise momentarily made her forget about the pain she was in.

“Now, can you let me in? I need to talk to you.”

And like that, the pain was back, the soothing warmth chased off by icy cold dread. Did her mother know? Did that maid snitch on her? She swallowed thickly.

“Umm-- can’t we just talk like this? It’s just as effective.”

“I would prefer it if I was able to see you when I speak to you,” Alcina said. She paused for a moment. “Why can’t I come in?”

“I’m-- I’m naked.”

Also wasn’t a lie, technically.

Alcina was quiet for a moment.

“Bela, I watched you come out of a mass of insects as naked as a babe. I do not think there’s anything left to be seen that I don’t know about already.”

You’d be surprised, Bela thought, looking down at her marred form.

“It’s-- it’s just embarrassing for me!”

Alcina sighed. “Then why don’t you put some clothes on?”

Realizing she wasn’t going to get out of this conversation, Bela said, “Right! Okay!” And then began scrambling for something to wear. The exertion made the two empty bullet holes pucker like hungry mouths and drool out even more blood that drizzled down her legs like snakes. She didn’t have time to clean herself up, so she just threw on the first gown she could reach in one of her drawers--a dark blue one she had sewn herself--wiped her hands off, kicked the tattered black dress under the bed, and smeared the blood on the floor until it couldn’t be seen against the hardwood. Then, she put on the most believable, while also innocent expression of normalcy and opened her door.

“My lady,” she said with a wide sweeping motion of her arm, trying to be funny, trying to hide the fact that she was in immense pain and simply being on her feet made her lightheaded, trying not to worry her mother.

Alcina didn’t laugh at her joke. She seemed rather suspicious as she ducked into the room--not that Bela really blamed her. She was definitely being very suspicious.

“What did you want to talk about?” Bela asked, looking up at her mother.

Alcina looked around her room, but Bela had been smart enough to clean the floors. Not well, but they were clean. When she found nothing, she studied Bela, and Bela held herself as she usually did--maybe a bit too formally.

“I just wanted to check on you all after the attack,” Alcina finally answered, meeting her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mother,” Bela said, and she hated lying to Alcina, but she didn’t have a choice. She hated being a burden even more and that was all she was going to be if Alcina found out about her wounds.

“Are you sure?” Alcina narrowed her eyes at her.

“Yes, Mother,” Bela repeated. Then, trying to change the subject, she asked, “How is Cassandra?”

“She’s okay,” Alcina answered. “She will heal. The cut wasn’t very deep.”

“And Daniela?”

“Feasting. I wouldn’t go near her if I were you. She may just maim you and add you to her meal.” A smile came to Alcina’s lips, and Bela let herself laugh.

Unfortunately, that laughter quickly turned to coughing as her body seized with pain. She tasted blood as the bullets seemed to rattle within her, flesh clenching down around lead. She wiped her mouth before pulling her hand away.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Alcina didn’t respond for a moment. Her entire face was knitted with great concern, and Bela already felt bad for worrying her.

“Bela, are you sure you are alright?”

For a fourth time that day: “Yes, Mother.”

Alcina wasn’t going to let it go that easily, it seemed, because she questioned further: “Have you caught a chill?” She walked over and pressed a hand to Bela’s forehead. Bela couldn’t help but lean into it, always eager to be touched by her mother. “You shouldn’t be coughing like that.”

“I just had a tickle in my throat.”

“I don’t like being lied to, Bela.”

Bela’s resolve nearly broke beneath her mother’s stern gaze, but she kept her facade from falling through sheer willpower alone. She said, “I’m not.”

Alcina’s eyes narrowed. She pulled her hand back and went to say something when she appeared to slip on something. Steadying herself, she looked down at the ground, and Bela’s breath caught in her throat when she realized what exactly her mother had staggered on.

Alcina bent over and picked up the buckshot.

Bela didn’t let her panic show on her face as Alcina examined the tiny lead ball. Its siblings, still lodged deep in her stomach, seemed to giggle at the predicament she was ensnared in when a fresh bout of pain quivered through her nerves. She stayed calm as flashing yellow eyes slid back over to her.

“Bela,” Alcina said slowly, and Bela already didn’t like the tone she was using. “What is this?”

Bela considered playing dumb, but then she remembered that she was the smart, bookish one. She could use her multitude of knowledge as an excuse.

“That’s buckshot, Mother. It comes from a shotgun. Did you know that they have enough firepower to blow a head off? It’s because it has several bullets in one shot instead of a singular one, which means more power behind each blast.”

Alcina held a hand up and Bela instantly shut her mouth.

“Why do you have it?” Alcina asked.

“I was studying it,” Bela answered. It was believable enough. It did sound like something she would do, but Alcina didn’t seem very convinced.

“Your blood is on this, Bela,” Alcina said. “Why is your blood on this bullet?”

“I-- I--” Bela’s act was beginning to crumble.

Alcina turned to her completely, clenching the buckshot in her fist. “Were you shot?”

“Mother, I--”

“Were you shot?”

“Yes,” Bela blurted, unable to hide it anymore. “But-- but it isn’t that--”

“Show me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Bela Dimitrescu, show me where you are hurt. Now.”

Flinching at her mother’s severe tone, Bela removed her dress and revealed the mess on her stomach and chest. When she heard Alcina gasp, she quickly said, “It isn’t that bad. You don’t have to worry about me, Mother. I can take care of it.”

“You fool!” Alcina exploded, and Bela flinched away. “What were you thinking?! Why would you hide this from me?!”

“I-- I thought I could--” Bela was having a hard time collecting her words. If there was one thing she really hated, it was when people raised their voices, even if it wasn’t directed towards her. When Cassandra and Daniela would get into fights, she always left the room and got as far away as possible so she wouldn’t have to hear them yelling. But, as bad as their shouting was, it was nothing compared to their mother when she was worked up.

“I--”

“I asked you if you were alright!” Alcina roared on. “If you were okay! You said you were! And then I come in here and find you with bullets in your flesh?!” She shook her head, nearly dislodging her hat from her head. “What do you have to say for yourself, Bela?”

Personally? Bela really wished they weren’t having this conversation when she didn’t have a shirt on.

Dipping her head shamefully, the only thing that Bela could manage was a pathetic, “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“Why can’t you just let me help you for once?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Bela confessed. “Or worry you.”

Alcina sighed and rubbed her face slowly. “Bela, I am more worried and disappointed because you hid this from me.”

Bela could only squeak out a feeble, “Oh.”

Alcina knelt down in front of her and lifted her chin. “Honey, why would I be disappointed in you for coming to me for help?”

Bela couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. “Because-- because I got hurt. And I shouldn’t have. I’m a shitty fighter and got shot and I should have been stronger.”

“Your strength has nothing to do with this,” Alcina said. “Cassandra got hurt too, you know.”

“Cassandra probably didn’t care.”

“I beg to differ. You should have seen her while I was rubbing honey into her wound. She was wiggling around like a little worm!”

Bela laughed slightly, then whimpered immediately after. Alcina glanced at her bullet-filled body, then cupped her cheeks.

“Do you know what I would have done if you had died from these wounds?”

Bela tried not to look at her.

“I would have done everything in my power to get you back to me. I would tear down the sun and moon for you, my darling.” There was so much love in Alcina’s words, so much tenderness and care. Bela was drawn to it. “Please tell me you will come to me next time something happens. I cannot fathom the thought of you being in any more pain.”

Whether or not she actually would when the time came, Bela nodded. Alcina smiled at her warmly and placed a kiss against her forehead.

“That’s my good girl,” she said. “Now…” Her eyes slid down to the bullet wounds. “To handle this.”

“I tried to get them out myself,” Bela said. “I promise I tried. I got two out, but then-- but I couldn’t--”

“Shh,” Alcina stroked her hair. “You tried. That’s all that matters. But I am so proud of you, darling. It must not have been easy.”

Bela shook her head with a whimper.

“Alright,” Alcina stood up straight. “Come on. Lay on your bed. We need to get those little devils out of you.”

Bela didn’t disobey. She had already disobeyed enough for one day. She crawled onto her bed, whimpering each time her body bent in a way the bullets disagreed with. They felt like festering parasites inside her stomach. She was lightheaded.

“Mama,” she moaned. She was the last to stop calling Alcina such a thing. Cassandra was first, then Daniela, and when they both heard her still referring to their mother in that way, they teased her. While it had been done playfully, it was still enough to embarrass Bela and get her to stop to avoid risking further humiliation. But now she didn’t even care. She was far too uncomfortable to care about anything her sisters had to say.

“Mama…”

Alcina caressed the side of her face. “I’m right here, baby. Lay back for me.

Bela, as loyal as a hound, did as she was told. Her head rested against one of her fluffy pillows, but it did little to stop the room from spinning like a top. She looked over at Alcina anxiously, but her mother had an expression of focus and calm.

“Alright, my dove,” Alcina said, cupping one of her clammy, pallid cheeks. “I need you to lay as still as possible for me. Do you think you can do that?”

Bela nodded feebly.

“Very good. I’m going to start now, alright? Just stay still and breathe. I’ll work as quickly as I can.”

Another nod.

“Here I go.”

Even with the warning, Bela’s body still jolted when she felt the sharp stab of her mother’s claws against one of the bullet holes. Her eyes snapped open, but she was blind for several seconds before details bled back into awareness. To her own credit, she managed to keep from crying out, but only because she clenched her jaw so hard she chipped one of her fangs. Cassandra and Danieal were definitely going to tease her over that later, but it was the least of her problems at the moment.

The third bullet slid out with relative ease, lubricated by her blood, and, Mother Miranda, she was only just realizing she had fifteen more to go.

“One down,” Alcina said, flicking the buckshot to the floor. She lifted Bela’s chin to examine her broken tooth. “Hmm. It’ll grow back, don’t worry. It didn’t chip that much.”

“I was using a gown,” Bela said, her words coming out wheezy and weak. “To bite down on.” She pointed to the dress left on the rocking chair. “Can I use it again?”

Alcina followed her hand, spotting the bundle of fabric. “Oh, clever girl!” she praised, rubbing Bela’s head. She picked up the gown and gave it to Bela. “As I said before: you are my bright little daughter.”

Bela smiled shyly before biting down on the gown. She gave her mother an affirmative look to begin again.

The next three bullets went out smoothly--or as smoothly as little masses of lead wedged in sensitive tissue and muscle could be. But then Alcina got to one of the deeper slugs and it didn’t come out when tugged on, causing Bela to cry out and jerk away.

“Breathe, darling,” Alcina said, settling her back on her back when she tried to roll over. “Breathe. It’s alright. This one is a little deeper. A lot of them are going to be, but I need you to stay still and stay calm for me. Can you do that?”

“I-- I don’t know,” Bela said honestly.

Alcina frowned. She stroked her face, wiping away tears. “I know you can. You’re strong, Bela, regardless of what you think. And just know that I am so proud of you.”

Bela reached up to grab her mother’s hand. She pressed into the warm palm like a kitten seeking heat in the middle of a winter storm. Finally, she relented, “Okay.”

“Thank you, darling,” Alcina crooned. She went to return to her work, but Bela didn’t release her hand. “I need you to let me go, Bela.”

Bela was unwilling to part with the warmth, so Alcina did it herself, easily peeling her fingers away. She touched her cheek tenderly for a moment before saying, “Bite down and breathe, baby. I’m starting again.”

Bela did as she was told, grinding her teeth into the gown as claws returned to her sore stomach. She flinched, but didn’t try to squirm away again, grounding herself by grasping handfuls of the sheets beneath her.

Seven, eight, nine, ten… Alcina worked diligently, expertly removing the buckshot from Bela’s body. When she got to the eleventh one and it proved to be rather reluctant to leave its host, she stopped for a moment to give Bela time to breathe and prepare herself.

“You’re doing so good,” Alcina cooed, stroking Bela’s hair, which was wet with cold sweat. Bela had started to tremble at some point, though she didn’t exactly know when, but she hoped it wasn’t making the bullet removal harder than it already was.

“Mama,” Bela mewled. “It hurts…”

“I know,” Alcina hushed her. “I know. I’m almost done. Just eight more to go.”

“Hurry-- hurry--” Bela panted.

“Are you sure? You can wait a moment longer to catch your breath.”

Bela shook her head. “Please.”

Alcina pursed her lips, then nodded. “Alright. Here I go.”

Bela braced herself.

“Eleven…”

Bela breathed.

“Twelve…”

Bela bit down.

“Thirteen…”

Bela--

Bela screamed.

Bela screamed because the fourteenth bullet was buried deep within her flesh, burrowed in her warmth like a maggot in a corpse. She kicked out her legs and tried to yell for Alcina to stop, but blood mixed with bile lurched up the back of her throat and her mouth was clogged with fluids. Alcina ripped out the pellet with enough force to slit the edges of the hole with her claws, threw it to the floor, and then lifted Bela’s head so she wouldn’t inhale her own blood and choke. Bela coughed, staining her chest in a fresh layer of red.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Shh,” Alcina stroked her thumb with her cheek. “Nothing to apologize for, darling. You’re doing very well. We’re so close to finishing.”

Bela looked at her, breathing heavily, her throat thick with blood. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded weakly. Alcina set her head back down on the pillow.

“Here we go, my sweet. Just a little longer.”

But Bela wasn’t able to handle it when the fifteenth was removed. She grabbed her mother by the wrist when she reached for the sixteenth one, clinging tightly.

“No more, no more--” Bela begged.

Alcina frowned. “I have to get them out, baby. You’re so close.”

Bela shook her head. “No, no-- can’t we-- can’t we just leave them in?”

“Bela. You’re smarter than that. You know we can’t.”

“But-- but it hurts,” Bela wept. “I can’t-- I can’t take it anymore. Please, Mama. Please just stop .”

Above her, Alcina looked incredibly worried. She ran her bloody claws through Bela’s hair, soothing her.

“I have to,” Alcina said. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Bela sobbed, but didn’t stop her.

With a cruel yank, the sixteenth bullet dislodged with a spit of blood. Bela shredded the sheets beneath her.

The seventeenth took some digging, with her mother stretching the tender edges of the hole with one hand, picking out flesh with the other. She nearly threw up at the disgusting squelching sounds that filled the air, but managed to save herself from the humiliation by swallowing hard.

The eighteenth, the one she had accidentally pushed in deeper, was the worst. It was like having a hot knife thrust into her soft stomach over and over again. She shivered with pain and blood loss as she felt the bullet being tugged on in her ragged flesh. It was a sickening friction of skin sucking against the force of her mother’s claws. She didn’t even know if it came out fully because her eyes rolled to the back of her head and everything went black.

——— ——— ———

Wiping her claws of blood, Alcina frowned down at her eldest daughter. Bela was unconscious. It seemed the pain was finally too much for her little body. Though, she made it all the way to the end. Alcina was expecting her to pass out a lot sooner.

And she said she wasn’t strong.

Scooping her up into her arms, Alcina carried Bela to her bedroom, telling a maid to clean up the bloody mess left behind. Once inside her chambers, she ran Bela a hot bath, washing her of all the blood that stained her body. The warm water seemed to rouse her daughter because shiny amber eyes peeked out from under heavy eyelids as she was cleaning out her hair.

“Mama,” Bela breathed out.

Alcina smiled at her lovingly. “Hello, my sweet.”

Bela looked around sluggishly. She seemed dazed. “I’m… huh?”

“You passed out,” Alcina informed her.

“The buckshot…?”

“All out,” Alcina reached out to caress her cheek. “It’s over. You did it. I’m so proud of you, baby girl.”

Bela, always wanting affection, pressed into her hand. “Finally…”

Alcina chuckled. “I’m just going to finish washing all this blood off and then you can lay back down. You need lots of rest to heal.”

“Can you…?”

Alcina smiled again. Her heart swelled with adoration and love towards her daughter.

“Yes, I will lay with you.”

Bela had definitely earned it.

[well-fuuuck]

Themes with the LU Chains characters that I do not like (based on fics and fanon interpretation, not necessarily jojo's comic). I needed to rant about this, and get it out of my head, so here y'all go. Also these are just my opinions, but I'm objectively right

Four - either his character is supremely bland and barely in the fic, or he is the main character and it is extremely difficult to read the way y'all write his thought processes. Find a better, easier way for us to read him please.

Hyrule - genuinely, i have almost no complaints about his character. Some of the best LU fics I have read are ones centered around him. Y'all really go off when writing Hyrule. The only problem I have is when he is a side character and grouped with Wild in that 'omg we are so reckless, we put the whole group in danger LOL'. I despise that. Hyrule is from a land where he is constantly on guard and cautious - he is not reckless to the point of putting others in danger.

Legend - y'all love to make him a bully and leave it at that. There is so much more to his character than 'sarcastic and mean'. If you wanna write Legend as a bully, go off I guess but know that you're doing a diservice to his character.

Sky - ...yall make him. So. Bland. I think i have only read one fic where i genuinely liked Sky's character. He is almost always characterized as a love-sick fool. Sky is no fool. He is angry and guilt-ridden. He was used by Hylia, too, and he knows it!! She literally admitted it to him. He may be in love with Zelda, but I am almost certain he has some pent-up anger against Hylia. Also the demise curse?? Guys, Sky is so guilt-ridden, pls explore it

Time - 'basic gruff dad characterization' copy and paste. He is either way too gruff and angry, or has a little bit of playfulness mixed in. The playfulness never balances his gruffness though. His character is always boring to read, which is such a shame bc he is one of my fav game Links.

Twilight - again...such a bland character y'all make him out to be. Either he is reduced as just a mentor to Wild or he is reduced as just a son-figure to Time. Both of those I hate and they're both over-written. Its a goddamn fight to be able to find a fic where Twilight isnt a mentor to Wild, dear Lord. Also the majority of his angst (if there even is any in the fic) it is almost always based around Midna. And i get it, i do, but dear lord. Y'all do know that other stuff went down in his game, right??? That there are other women in his life besides Midna? Like, have none of y'all read the TP manga and the amiunt of angst potential in that??? Come on

Warriors - this one makes me a tad angry. He is just the pretty boy, the pretty link, the link who is always getting with women. 'Womanizer'. Women problems. And yep, Wars has women problems - but in the way that he doesn't like relationships and is uncomfortable with intimacy. Listen, i could go on and on about Warriors trauma, but I'll digress and just say this: Warriors is not a womanizer, and it is an insult to his character to make him one.

Wild - *deep breath in* *deep breath out* the way y'all write his character inspires a deep rage inside of me. Wild is not inept, he is not stupid, he is not 'feral', and he would not put people in danger even though he is reckless. I understand that many of you characterize him as feral and reckless, because that is how y'all played BOTW. I apparently played it much differently; very cautiously and fought from a distance. Listen to me, though: all of the Links are reckless, but none of them are stupid.

Wind - y'all make him so annoying, please quit. Wind is 13/14 years old and has been on 2 quests. He is not a 7 year old boy, playing at being a hero. He is an older brother, who went on a quest to protect his sister. Wind is proud and protective, not to be babied. And honestly, i think the other Links would understand that (and yes, even twi and wars can understand that)

[mrstsung]

Comfort character asks: Raiden mk edition:

1. how long have i known about them: omg I've been a mk fan since baby nerd days. In my teens. Raiden was my go to man besides kung lao. They are THE BOIS ok? Like kung lao was my main dude,still is but lao was more of an all around i just love him ok?. But raiden was A HEARTTHROB CUTIE for me. But he also became my comfort too. (Shang was my fave og baddie and he will always be that one bih but this aint about him rn)

2. whether or not they’ve ever made me cry: ok several times. Like why can't y'all be nice to him? What did he ever do but help the best he could. The elder gods are assholes and none of y'all are grateful. That's why he turned dark in that one timeline. Because of Y'ALL! So if you want happy raiden? Put some respect on his name! Makes me cry. He needs a hug and a long ass vacation. Thats why fujin is here to help. Because y'all he broke his back for you. Ungrateful asses.

3. whether or not i have any merchandise/objects with them: i want some. But a bih is broke.

4. what about their personality i like: ok ok look we have so many interpretations of him. But for me? My take on raiden? His comforting presence,his wisdom,his compassion. Lord his PATIENCE! like damn

5. what about their backstory makes me emotional: his burdens. Omfg raiden plz let fujin help! Good lord raiden plz hunny sit down and relax in a hot spring! Raiden doesn't deserve this shit.

6. the moment of theirs that made me the saddest: any death or falling. Like i don't care for dark raiden (but i dont blame him either ya know) it's more just too sad for me to like this universe of raiden.

7. the moment of theirs that made me the happiest: when he finally gets a fucking break. Come here rai,i got you.

8. something about them that made me laugh: omg raiden pulling cheeky banter is the best. Because its so sassy but dry. Like how? Only he can pull this off.

9. my favorite canon outfit of theirs: honestly raiden looks cool in all his outfits. Do i have to pick?

10. my favorite moment with them in canon: ok look my brain isn't capable of retaining info like that well. But honestly any fight with him and shang is epic or him fighting shao khan (tho sadly they make him so weak sauce when fighting shao khan compared to shang tsung. And shangs pretty tough. And it doesn't feel fair and is bias af)

11. my favorite relationship they have with another character: eh i love his big brotherly vibe with his bro fujin. But his mentorship with kung lao and liu kang is wholesome too. Honestly him just being big bro to everyone is nice. 💖

12. what i like about the way the fandom portrays them: eh i guess i like it when the fans can actually write him domestic and do it without being boring or stiff. But i haven't seen many good portrayals yet. Only a few. But i will say. I loooooove when people talk about the temple and describe the interior. Like they do other things so well but people be lacking in the character development part.

13. what i dont like about the way the fandom portrays them: they make him too stiff. Now raiden is responsible,wise,and a bit more stern than his brother. But he isn't emotionless,monotonous or harsh. Is he a bit tsundere? A tiny bit,at first or for a small sec. But it never lasts long. He'll let loose more easier. Unlike a certain shirai ryu we all know n love. Raiden just gets flustered easy. But he welcomes it at the same time? Compassion and his connection with humanity is his #1 trait. Remember that. Him and fujin are similar but the key difference is,rai has a few more notches under his belt and had to take on more bullshit than his brother emotionally. Rai gets overburdened easy. So thats why fujin it there to help carry said burdens. They go hand n hand. Just like the mythos. Where there is thunder n lightning there is wind. And where they are. A storm brews. And after the storm? Peace,calm,and life giving energy n water. (Sorry to get all zen and philosophical on you guys)

14. what i liked about the way canon portrayed them: He did gets some oomf to him. But i dunno. Canon has been weird to raiden. Also unfair too. So i dunno really.

15. what i dont like about the way canon portrayed them: well i already mentioned above and in other posts i don't care for dark raiden. So other than that i got nothing else. Fans are more of an issue if anything. But even then its whatever.

💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙⚡💙

The op deactivated. So i found another source post/reblog. Apologies.

Linking because i wanna fill a blank one,but wanna credit too?

[mistersshelby]

removing the dagger

hi yes it's me, yes i know i haven't updated my masterlist in ages, yes i am aware i have an unfinished wip that i promised to post months ago, i'm just a stupid fanfic writer begging her audience to love her!!!! anyway!!! i have two other things in the works that I'm hoping to finish, but in the mean time this is one shot i based on ivy and tolerate it from taylor swift's album evermore. i hope you like it, i missed y'all!!! send me asks pls i'm lonely

pairing: tommy x reader

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

“We’ll be entertaining guests this weekend.”

You looked up from your breakfast plate in shock, wondering if your husband was addressing you or someone else. You gave the room a quick scan. No, it was indeed just you. “Alright.” You said hesitantly, “Who will be attending?”

He hadn’t looked up at you from his newspaper at the other end of the table. He felt miles away rather than a meter or two. “Just some business partners and their wives.” He finally looks up. You’re so unused to his direct attention you have to stop yourself from flinching away from his gaze, “You should go into town. Buy yourself a new dress.” Just as quickly as his gaze had met yours, he drops it again.

You draw your attention back to your breakfast plate, spreading butter on a scone before biting into it. “Do you need anything while I’m out, dear?”

“No thank you, love.”

The endearments don’t mean anything, this you know. It’s a formality. You’re husband and wife, and you speak to each other that way, but the words are empty. The truth is, day in and day out you watch him, you know all his routines. You hand him items before he can reach for them. Buy the book you know he’d been wanting for ages, but never got around to go to the store for. Refill the liquor cabinet before he can get to the bottom of a vodka bottle. And still. And still, he doesn’t see you. Not really. You leave the breakfast table to get ready to go into town and you know he won’t notice you’ve left until the maid clears your plate.

***

Another evening filled with pleasantries, pretty gowns, fake smiles. Men complimenting you and informing your husband how lucky he is to have such a beautiful, young wife. Your husband simply thanks them and doesn’t even look your way.

It’s not until he walks into the room that you feel you’ve been startled from sleep. He looks the same as you remember. There may be a few more lines around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise the same. Except now he looks like a walking weapon. That’s what the war had turned him into. You had kept tabs on him once you found out he had made it home from France, alive. The things you heard, the things this man that you used to love so dearly had done, well you suppose it didn’t surprise you. Tommy had always been too clever for his own good, almost too resilient. It made sense that France would have chewed him up and spit him out, kept most of the love and kindness he possessed.

But then his eyes find yours through the crowd and when he locks on you the same love and desire that had always been there, burns there now. No, the war couldn’t burn out his love for you. Your abandonment and consequential marriage that he read about in the paper couldn’t burn it out either. He’d love you until his dying day. And then he’s in front of you and words fail you, “Thomas,” You finally manage, “You… look well.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “It’s good to see you.” And he ever so gently lifts your hand and presses his lips to your skin. A chill runs through you and it takes all your effort not to snatch your hand away. His knowing grin tells you he’s noted his effect on you.

“And who are you?” Your husband interjects, noticing the affront that was greeting you before himself.

“Thomas, this is my husband, Benjamin.”

Tommy looks your husband up and down for longer than is polite before reaching his hand out to meet your husband’s, “A pleasure.” He murmurs.

“How do you know my wife, mister…”

“Shelby.” Tommy fills in for him, and then glances at you, “Your wife and I were--”

“Childhood friends.” You interject before he can finish and force a smile.

Tommy stares at you for a prolonged second before turning back to your husband, “Yes. Childhood friends.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Benjamin exclaimed, “You grew up in Oxford then, yeah?”

The confusion is evident on Tommy’s face so you jump in quickly, “Yeah! Both grew up in Oxford, isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy looks annoyed at having to lie, but nods anyway, “That’s right.” He speaks with Benjamin for a few moments about business and you find yourself staring at him, the freckles on his cheeks you used to kiss so tenderly. His hair that you used to run fingers through. His eyelashes that used to tickle your skin when he fell asleep. His voice that used to whisper adorations in your ear while other women looked on with jealousy.

“I hope you won’t mind if I steal your wife for a dance, sir, I’d love to catch up with her for a moment.”

Benjamin gave him a disarming smile, a smile you hadn’t seen since he had courted you and it made your heart ache. He lifted his glass to Tommy, “She’s all yours.”

You managed a small smile as Tommy took your hand and led you to the center of the room. You could feel tears burning the back of your eyes at the familiarity of his touch. No one had touched you like this, well, since Tommy left Small Heath.

“Oxford, eh?” Tommy started, “What else did you have to lie about to become such an esteemed lady?”

You frowned, “I did what I had to do. It appears you did the same.”

He shakes his head, “I never lied about where I came from out of shame to achieve the lifestyle I wanted.” His voice is bitter, and you won’t lie, it stings coming from the only person who had made you feel like you were worth something.

“I’m not ashamed of Small Heath.”

“Everything about who you’ve married, to what you’re wearing, to the house you live in, to the lies about me suggest otherwise.”

“I didn’t lie about you because I was ashamed, Benjamin gets… jealous. It was just easier not to explain.”

“Does Benjamin have reason to be jealous?”

You looked into those blue eyes you had adored so long ago and saw the same longing and lust sitting there. Your lips part and you pause, trying to find the right words to convey that you were sorry for how things ended. That you wished things could have been different. But he senses your hesitation and his eyes go cold, those familiar walls that you had worked for years to tear down are back up in full force. You suppose it’s what you deserve.

“Forget it. Stupid question.”

“Tommy--”

“No, don’t. You’re obviously very happy here.”

And you realized as he said it that he was so incredibly wrong about that, “I’m not.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes begin to water before you can stop them, “I’ve never been more unhappy in my life.”

Concern floods Tommy features, “Is he hurting you?”

You almost laugh, “No, no he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s never even raised his voice to me. He just… rarely remembers that I exist is all.”

“Well he’s an idiot then.” The corner of your mouth turned up just a bit at his crassness. “Can’t imagine having you walk around this house day in and day out looking like that and not giving you the attention you deserve.”

You have to bite down hard on your lip to keep the tears lodged in your throat at bay, “Do you have a smoke?”

He frowns, “I can’t imagine Benjamin allows a lady like you to smoke.”

“Tommy, please, he won’t even know we’re gone.” Sure enough, when you look over he’s immersed in conversation, “Come outside with me.” You tug on his arm before he can respond, weaving through guests who didn’t give you a second glance.

Once outside, you gulp in the cold air and lean against the stone wall behind you. Tommy joins a few seconds later, “Are you alright?” He asks as he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes.

“Can you tell me about Birmingham? What’s it like now?”

While you smoked, he talked about his family and the business. How Polly was doing, and Finn who you could still remember being born. Arthur and his anger problems. John and his relentless jokes. And when your cigarette was nothing more than a useless stub, you noticed there were silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

Tommy glanced at you and then dropped his own cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe, “Why are you here if it makes you so sad?”

The reason you had married Benjamin was because you had promised yourself you would never have to go hungry again. You would never have to worry about someone breaking in and slitting your throat for a loaf of bread. You wouldn’t have to stare at dresses in shops anymore knowing you would never have enough money for it. You never wanted any children you bore to feel that pain either. So you had done what you thought was needed to obtain this lifestyle and now that you were here, it didn’t feel the way you expected it to.

You can’t answer him and instead you look up at the sky and snow starts to fall on your face. “It’s snowing.” You announce to Tommy. He says nothing and you get the feeling he’s annoyed with you. “We had our first kiss in the snow. Do you remember?”

He scoffs and pushes himself off the wall, “I’m not playing your games tonight, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“And why did you come here?” You call after him as he walks away, “Why the fuck did you come, eh? To rub it in my face that I made the wrong decision?”

He turns back to you and he has that cocky smirk on his face, “Listen to that Birmingham accent. Does your husband know his lady’s got such a dirty mouth?”

You don’t know why this is the remark that does it, but you take a sharp intake of breath and your lungs shudder with sobs as the tears pour down your cheeks. The smirk falls from Tommy’s face and he reaches for you, but you pull away. “Love, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Darling?” Your husband stands in the doorway and both you and Tommy freeze, “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death out there in the cold.”

You close your eyes for a moment, schooling your features before you respond, “I’ll be just a minute dear, Mr. Shelby was just leaving. I was seeing him off.” Every trace of the tears was gone from your voice. Tommy would be impressed if it didn’t mean that you had clearly needed to practice seeming happy and upbeat when you were breaking inside.

It’s so easy how quickly he loses interest, Benjamin, and turns back to go inside without another glance. “Why did you come here?” You ask Tommy again.

He sighs, “I had hoped that seeing you happy would give me the closure I needed. Unfortunately, seeing you choose misery over me has only made me feel worse.” He says bitterly. Your face crumples and he steps away from you, “Goodnight, my love.”

When he’s gone you wish to scream and cry and you hate him for coming here and shattering the glass walls you had built around yourself to tell you that you were fine. You were fine with your finery and your loneliness and the gin you drink when Benjamin isn’t home. How he ignores the smell of it on your breath. His deliberate silence when you know he can feel your cries shake the bed at night. You thought you had packed Tommy Shelby neatly away in the far corner of your mind where you wouldn’t find him again. Wouldn’t remember what it was like to feel loved. To feel alive. But you remember. And now he’s gone again. Just like when he left for France. Just like when you wrote that final letter to him that you were to be married.

And so you walk back into that house of stone. You murmur to Benjamin that you’re tired and you’ll be retiring early. And he just nods, barely hearing you, like he always does. And you settle into bed and stare at the wall as the house goes quiet. And finally the bed shifts with his weight and his breathing settles and he doesn’t reach for you. He never does.

Goodnight, my love.

***

The mud of the road squelches beneath your shoes and you're conscious of the way everyone in Small Heath stares at you, walking around like this, but you’d had no choice. No trace of your old wardrobe before you married Benjamin existed. He hadn’t allowed it. You didn’t want any reminders, anyway. Besides which, you had told Benjamin you were out for lunch with a friend and had dressed appropriately. When you swing open the door to the Garrison, you don’t see any Shelbys, but everyone stares at you nonetheless. You imagine word will travel fast to Tommy that you’re here.

Sure enough, as you finished your first drink, you heard the doors swing open and a hush fell over the occupants of the bar. You didn’t look up when he sat next to you. “What are you doing in my bar?” He said, his voice was demanding and cold.

“Having a drink.” You said as the bartender slid you another.

Tommy took it from your hand and dumped it on the floor, “Don’t give her another one.” He said to the bartender. “I asked you what the hell you’re doing here, don’t try my patience.”

“I was drinking that.” You said through clenched teeth.

“You’re drunk, you’ve obviously been drinking all day, surely Benjamin darling noticed that before he let you leave the house, eh?”

You turned to him, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, “I came here… Because you never told me… If you remembered our first kiss.”

He stares at you for a few moments, “You came all the way to Small Heath to ask me if I remember our first kiss?”

You blink, “Why are you just repeating what I just told you?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I remember it. Now will you go home?”

“I am home.”

“This isn’t your home anymore, you made sure of that.”

“How is what I did any fucking different from what you did? I married him to fuckin’ survive. That’s it. And you would’ve done the same in my place.” While you were talking you kept trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was purposely ignoring you now, “Will you please tell your bartender to get me a drink?”

He leans in close to your ear and you still, “You could have married me. I could have given you everything if you had just waited.”

You turn your head to look at him and your lips are just inches from his, “I didn’t think you would come back, Tommy. So many men were dying every day, I didn’t think you would come back and I was running out of time to find someone else to marry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you brave, but you lean into him just a little bit and he doesn’t move away. So you close the distance between you.

The kiss is quick, and you pull away to gage his reaction. But his eyes only dart from yours back down to your mouth before his fingers graze your chin and gently pull you to him again. You can’t believe how alive it makes you feel to be kissed, really kissed, by someone who wants you.

“You’re drunk.” Tommy says finally, pulling away.

“So what?”

“So you wouldn’t be cheating on your husband if you weren’t drunk.”

You snort, “I would do just about anything to feel the way you made me feel again.”

He shakes his head at you, “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. So, what? You’re just going to have an affair with me and I’m supposed to be satisfied with that?”

“What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Leave him and marry me.”

He’s so sincere, and for a moment you allow yourself to think that you could. “You know I can’t do that.” You say quietly.

He nods and lowers his head, “Then I’m not sure how I can help you, Mrs. Davies.”

His use of your married name feels like a blow, “I know you feel the same as I do when we kiss, isn’t it worth it just for that?”

“I don’t do well with sharing.” He practically snarled in your face.

“I’m his in name alone. You own me, body, soul, and spirit, Tommy. You always have.”

Suddenly, he straightens as if he’s just now realized where he is. “Come with me.” He says quickly, sharply. You practically run after him and when you get outside, you see his horse. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you ever just listen to me for once?” And without asking permission, lifted you up by your waist enough to get you on the saddle. When he comes up after you, you hesitate before wrapping your arms around his waist to keep yourself steady. It reminds you so vividly of just a few years earlier, you allow yourself to sink into the memories. It doesn’t take you long to realize he’s taking you to your old haunt. An abandoned house in the middle of the woods, overgrown with ivy.

“Why are we here?” As he helps you down from the horse, your faces nearly collide as your feet touch the ground. He seems to want to kiss you, but holds back.

“I waited here for you for days when I got back.” He says, walking away from you and towards the house. “When you stopped sending me letters, I had a feeling you had changed your mind, but I still hoped.”

You blink, “You never got my letter?”

He turns back to you, now leaning against a half demolished wall, “Did you send me a letter to tell me you were marrying that wanker? I honestly thought it was kinder that you hadn’t.”

You swallowed, “Yes, I sent you a letter.”

“And what did it say?”

You sigh, suddenly you’re frustrated with him, “That was years ago, Tommy, can’t we move on?”

He laughs, but it’s cold, “For you it was years ago, I’ve been living in this hell you left me in ever since. I didn’t get to move on to palaces and dinner parties and expensive champagne. I came back here and started another war, all in the hopes that one day I could provide for you and you would come home. And all the while you’ve been sleeping in another man’s bed.”

You look down at your feet. You understand the anger and the resentment he holds. After all, you knew when you sent that letter if he survived the war he would never forgive you. But here he was, some sort of dark, fallen angel, standing in front of you. Spreading over you again like ivy, the same way he had when you were younger. “I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve caused,” He was already scoffing and turning away from you, “But I’m here now. And so are you. And all I know is that being with you again makes me feel something and I haven’t felt anything since I sent out that letter.”

“So just like that, you think everything’s fixed?” He storms up to you, trapping you against the wall behind you. “You think you can just pop back in, say you’re sorry, and everything’s all better?”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed with his display of anger, “Of course not, Tommy, I’m not stupid.” You reach your hand out and delicately trail your fingers down his chest, “I just think… That it’d be a shame to deny each other what we both want.”

Without warning his hand clamps around your wrist and slams it against the wall behind you. It doesn’t hurt, really, but he did catch you off guard so you wince anyway.

He leaned forward until his lips brushed your ear, “Who said you could touch me without explicit permission?”

A chill went down your spine at the sound of his voice and you find yourself smirking, “Don’t need permission to touch what belongs to me.” You still know exactly what to say to piss him off.

He shoves you against the wall again, “You think this is fuckin’ funny, eh?” He leans down to look you eye to eye, “Am I laughing?” He pushes himself off the wall and turns away from you, “Always a fuckin’ joke to you.”

“Tommy, I thought… I’m sorry, I thought we were teasing--”

He rounds on you, “I don’t fuckin’ joke when it comes to you, do you understand? None of this is funny to me. It may be all a big joke to you with your fancy house and your upper class husband, but I lost the one thing in my life that had value and I don’t think it’s fuckin’ funny for you to shit all over the marriage that you thought was good enough to abandon me for in the first place!”

It’s all so absurd you nearly snort, “Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I like living with the knowledge that I gave up the love of my life for someone who is rarely home, and when he is home doesn’t even spare me a second glance? My husband hasn’t kissed me in six months.”

“And so now you think you can have both?”

Tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, “Can’t I?”

You can see the internal battle going on behind his eyes, caught between wanting you and not being able to truly have you. You knew he would give in to you, though, and maybe you felt a little guilty about that but you couldn’t afford to let your mind go there. You just needed someone to touch you, someone to really, truly desire you.

And Tommy gave in. He pushed you against the wall again, his mouth finding your mouth in a lust-filled frenzy. You moan in equal parts surprise and delight as his hands roam your body, pulling you up until your legs wrap around his waist, back firmly pressed to the wall.

You might pay for this sinful offense against your marriage one day, but today you will simply relish the way Tommy tastes.

***

“You’re quiet this morning.” Benjamin notes a week later during breakfast. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I heard you say a word. Is everything alright, darling?”

You look up from your plate where you had been pushing your egg around aimlessly and force a smile, “Everything is perfect, darling, why shouldn’t it be?”

He watches you closely for a moment, miles away on the opposite end of the dining table. You don’t believe he’s watched you like this since courting you. Then, in a flash, the moment is broken and he returns to his paper, “We should have dinner, just you and I. I have that business trip coming up and I’d like to spend some time with you before I go.”

You try not to narrow your eyes too deliberately at him. A proper lady never thinks too hard about her husband’s motives, she just acts delighted to be considered. But this was unlike him and you would find out why. “That would be lovely, dear.”

***

Your arm rests delicately on Benjamin’s as he takes you inside the restaurant he had made reservations in. He was going on and on about the lobster and how you should get one too and what drink to pair it with and it was all so fucking boring your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. You hadn’t seen Tommy since that day at the abandoned house.

Afterwards, he had taken you on the horse until you were a mile away from the house and insisted on being dropped there.

“I can take you further, he won’t see me.”

“It’s alright, Tommy. I like the walk.”

He had hopped off his horse with you and cradled your face in his hands, kissing you goodbye, “I’m still upset with you.” He said and kissed you again, harder. He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to make you yelp, “This doesn’t change anything.”

But it changed everything, hadn’t it? For you, at least. You understood Tommy’s anger and resistance though. Maybe this would be the only taste of him he’d ever allow you again while you rotted away in that mansion of stone. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage, your foreheads still pressed together, before lightly pushing yourself off him and walking down the road without looking back.

Eventually, you heard his horse walk away and you did your best not to cry.

“Darling?” Benjamin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. The two of you now sit at a small table in the corner. You’re buttering a roll absently, you couldn’t remember picking up the bread. “Darling, are you alright? I’ve been asking you to pass the butter.”

“Yes,” You said, reaching across the table with the butter dish in hand, “I’m sorry, my mind ran away from me.”

“And what were you thinking about?” He asks, taking the butter from you.

You blink, shocked that he would ask you such a thing, “Sorry?”

“What’s got your mind so occupied that I can’t seem to keep your attention?” He smiles when he says it and you realize he’s… teasing you.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, I was just thinking about a dress I wanted to buy. I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to you.”

He sighs greatly and for a moment you’re scared. Somehow he knows. He must know, otherwise-- “I realize that I haven’t been the best husband as of late. I don’t know what you spend your days doing, what you like, what you don’t like. I don’t kiss you in the morning or the evening when I come home from work--”

You’re shaking your head, “Benjamin--”

“You’ve been the perfect wife. Taking care of the house and entertaining guests, going out to the shop when I need something even if I haven’t asked. And I’ve ignored you. Aren’t you angry with me?”

Your eyes water and you sit back in your chair, looking down at your lap. Taking a breath you look back up at him, “You’re my husband.” You shrug, “I do what I must even if I don’t get anything in return.”

He hesitantly covers your hand with his own, “I’ll be better. I promise.” He sits back, “That friend that you went to lunch with the other day, what was her name?”

The fear returns all over again as you lightly dab at your eyes, “Martha, she’s a friend from Oxford.” The lie comes easily, too easily.

“Is she married?” Before you can answer, his eyes light up, “Oh! She must be that gentleman’s wife, the one who was at the party last week. Shelby, I believe his name was.”

Slowly, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. Martha’s husband is Thomas.”

“You should invite them for dinner, after my trip!”

Oh, fuck. “Oh, Benjamin, that’s so sweet of you dear, but you don’t have to--”

“I do.” He covers his hand with yours again, “I want to learn more about you. Your friends. What better way to do that than get to know the people you grew up with?”

You force a smile, “That sounds lovely.”

He smiles back, “It’s settled then! You iron out the details while I’m away and then just let me know which evening, alright, dear?”

“Of course.” You say, still forcing that smile. How the fuck were you going to get out of this one?

***

“Are you out of your mind?” You had summoned Tommy yet again by drinking at the Garrison and he had stormed in here ready to toss you over his shoulder and kick you out himself. But you had managed to get him to share a drink with you and you told him your new predicament.

“Well, yes, but that’s hardly the point.” He looks so annoyed with you, you almost laugh, “Please, Tommy. I’ll never bother you again.”

He snorts, “Yeah, that’ll be the day.” He knocks back the rest of his whiskey and then pushes the glass to the bartender, signaling for another, “This is really what you want?”

You bite your lip, “He seems sincere. Like he really wants to try.”

“But do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?”

No. There would never be a love for you like Tommy. You look down at your hands. Either way you answer, Tommy will be hurt. But at least this way he could go on thinking that you’re happy. That you don’t need him. Maybe this way he’d fall in love with somebody else. The thought sent daggers through your heart, but you knew you had no one to blame for that but yourself. He should be happy, he deserved that. “Yes.” You lied.

His eyes shuttered and he looked away from you, “Alright. I’ll help you, then.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”

“Now get the hell out of my bar.”

You manage a small smile and nod, sneaking out without another word.

***

The door buzzed and you nearly smiled, “That’ll be the guests, darling.” You moved behind Benjamin, squeezing his shoulder as you passed, “I’ll get it.”

When you opened the door and saw Tommy standing there with a tall, beautiful woman, you couldn’t deny the hurt that rushed through you. You had asked him to bring someone, you reminded yourself, you had told him he needed to bring a fake wife.

You step aside to let them through, “It’s good to see you, Tommy. Martha. Come in.”

“Your home is so lovely,” The woman said. You weren’t sure if you just felt like she was staring daggers at you or if she was. How much did this woman know of you and Tommy? Just from the way she looked at Tommy, you could tell she had feelings for him. He had probably fucked her at some point. You ignore the painful tightening of your stomach at the thought. Tommy, for his part, seemed bored by her.

“Thank you.” You gestured for the maid to take their coats and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught as Tommy took his off. Then his hat. And his gloves. Those hands and those rings and-- You looked from his left hand to hers. They were wearing wedding rings. You supposed it shouldn’t have surprised you, they were supposed to be married. But the sight painfully stole all the breath from your lungs. You wondered if this was how Tommy felt when he saw you. You turned away from it and guided them into the drawing room, immediately going to get a drink while Benjamin bored them with talk of business.

You didn’t expect for it to hurt so much, seeing him with someone else. Even if they were just fucking, you felt like you couldn’t breathe as you stumbled into the kitchen. The kitchen staff ignored you as you braced your hands on a table, looking down at it and trying to catch your breath. They were used to you having breakdowns here. The staff liked you because you treated them like people when Benjamin wasn’t around. When he was on his trips, you’d invite them all to eat with you in the dining room and they were some of the most fun dinners you’d had since marrying Benjamin. So they let you cry in here and didn’t speak a word of it.

When the kitchen doors open abruptly, you stand immediately, expecting Benjamin, but it’s Tommy who stands there instead. “What are you doing back here?” You asked with annoyance.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, and you hate the concern that floods his face.

“You shouldn’t be back here, Benjamin might come looking for me--”

“I told him I would go look for you, he seems quite charmed by Lizzie, he won’t come looking.”

“So her name’s Lizzie then? She’s lovely.”

He’s quiet a moment, “So you’re sulking in here because I brought another woman here, something you asked me to do.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“We should go back out there,” You begin to walk around him, but his hand clasps on your upper arm and pulls you back.

“Does it hurt? Knowing I’m fucking someone else?” He whispers in your ear.

Tears sting your eyes and you realize he’s done this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you. You look up into those ice blue eyes to show him yours that are shining with tears, “Are you happy now?” You wrenched your arm from his grasp and left the kitchen, putting on a smiling face as you left.

Tommy watches you closely for most of the evening and you think that normally Benjamin might notice his predatory gaze, but Tommy was right. He’s enamored by Lizzie. They share touches and longing glances, even when you place your arm on top of Benjamin’s to signal that he’s yours. He just pats your hand and draws his arm out from under yours all without looking away from Lizzie. So when Tommy excuses himself for a smoke, you follow him out, not even bothering to excuse yourself.

“Ol’ Benjamin is really giving it his best shot with you, eh?” Tommy says immediately when you walk outside. You don’t say anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your anger. “Can’t say I blame him,” He continues, “Lizzie’s a great fuck.”

You close your eyes, “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing, love?” He makes the endearment sound condescending and you hate him for that.

“You’re trying to get me angry so I’ll admit that I lied to you about loving Benjamin.”

“I saw the way you looked at the wedding rings when I took off my gloves,” He inhales on the cigarette in his hand, “I don’t need you to say it.”

“Then what, you’re just rubbing it in because you’re a sadistic fuck?”

“So you are angry, then.”

“Yes!” You threw up your hands in exasperation, “Yes, I’m fucking angry that I thought maybe Benjamin did love me only to see him touch and look at that woman in there more than he’s touched me in over a year! And I’m fucking angry that you are also fucking her! I’m jealous, I’m fucking burning with how jealous I am that she gets to touch you and I don’t! Is that what you want to hear, you fucking prick?!”

God help you, he has a cool smile on his lips, “Yes, sweetheart. That’s what I wanted to hear. Would you like to go make your husband terribly jealous?” He reaches a hand out to you.

You’re frowning at him and you shake your head, “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do, I’m helping you get what you want.”

“But why?”

He lowers his hand, “Do you want the truth or the lie?”

You swallow, “Truth.”

He brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek, “Are you sure? It’ll break your heart.” He says softly.

You smile sadly and bring his hand to your chest, right above your heart. Your eyes glitter with unshed tears as you look at him, “Already broken.”

You almost miss his sharp intake of breath at your admission. You suppose he’s happy, happy that you were in so much pain after shattering his heart. “So?” You say.

“The truth is that,” He swallows, “The only thing that hurts me more than you not being mine is seeing you so fuckin’ sad. So let me help you.” You look up at him with those big sad eyes that practically scream at him how much you love him. He can’t stand to look another second, “Come on.” He offers you his hand again.

You place your small hand in his and he brings you back inside, not even dropping your hand as you pass your husband and Lizzie who are looking even cozier than when you left. He brings you to the drawing room in view of the dining room and finally drops your hand to go to the gramophone.

You feel Benjamin’s eyes on your back, but you don’t turn, focusing on Tommy.

A smile breaks out on his face, “I knew you’d have it.”

He holds up a record that the two of you used to listen to so often, you had had to replace the record a couple years back. A small smile forms on your lips, “Tommy, are you sure?”

When the two of you were together, you had taken a dance class together, mostly as a joke, but then you surprised yourselves when you had so much fun with it. Soon, you were choreographing dances together and Tommy was spinning you around that abandoned house. It seemed lifetimes ago and you couldn’t believe that the man who went to France and came back ready to kill any man standing in his way would still know or want to dance with you like when you were barely adults. But he’s beaming at you now, hand extended and the song is starting.

Biting your lip to hide your smile, you curtsy to him before taking his hand and he did a slight bow in response. And then he’s whisking you around the room. You can tell he hasn’t done this in a while and neither had you, but as the song picks up you lock eyes with him. You hadn’t seen him this happy since before the war. The sight sends such a thrill through you, you laugh, and suddenly you’re both in sync.

The weight of both Benjamin’s and Lizzie’s stares nearly break you, “It’s just me and you,” Tommy whispers, noticing how the light had dimmed from you just a little, “Focus on me.” And you do, losing yourself in the music and Tommy’s touch. Tommy dips you, your head falling back and upside down, you can see Benjamin and Lizzie, their eyes on you just like you thought. Tommy pulls you back up and you nearly crash into his chest as the song ends. He clutches your hand to him and your foreheads nearly touch as you both breathe hard.

There’s footsteps behind you and you turn to look to Benjamin, a smile still on your face, and his hand collides with your cheek. There’s only silence for a few seconds and it takes you all of those seconds to realize that Benjamin has hit you and before you’ve reached that conclusion, Tommy’s fist is already connecting with Benjamin’s jaw.

“Stop, stop.” You reach for Tommy to pull him off your husband, “Tommy, that’s enough!”

He had only punched Benjamin twice before you were able to pull him off and then he’s looking at you, “Are you alright?” There’s such concern in his eyes, he even brings his hands up to your face, eyes darting back and forth to assess the damage.

But your husband is still here so you push him away, “I’m fine, you should go.”

He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, “I won’t leave you with him.” He says quietly enough that you’re sure you’re the only one who heard him.

“Yes you will.” You look at him with cold, calculated calm. Your husband is still lying on the floor with stupid Lizzie coddling him, “You both should go.” You repeat.

Tommy is still staring at you and Lizzie has risen from where she was crouching next to your husband, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm, “Thomas, let’s go.”

You hate the familiarity of the touch, you’re able to tell she’s done it several times before. “Listen to your wife.” You say bitterly and that ice in his eyes is back. He simply backs away from you, Lizzie pulling him out the door.

“You humiliate me.” Benjamin says, now sitting upright and dabbing at blood at the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. It gives you sick satisfaction that Tommy had made him bleed.

“You humiliate yourself.” You say coldly.

“You danced with him like… Like you were some whore.”

You flinch at the insult, “I told you I knew him from Oxford, we took ballroom together. We were simply reminiscing.”

“You think me an imbecile,” He chuckles, “I saw the way you looked at each other. You’ve never once looked at me like that.”

Now you laugh and the sound makes him flinch, “Benjamin, when we met I looked at you like the sun and the moon set on your command, do not insinuate otherwise.” Your voice shakes with anger, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to touch and talk to me the way you talked to Tommy's wife all goddamn night. That’s why I danced with him. I wanted to make you jealous, I didn’t think you’d hit me.”

He’s shaking his head, “That doesn’t change the fact that you once bedded that man and then brought him into my house.”

You stare at him blankly, “If I recall correctly, you were the one who invited him here. And I daresay, Benjamin, with the way you were with his wife I have no doubt what you do on those business trips. I will not be made the villain when all I’ve done is begged for your love from day one.” He looks away from you at that and you relish how you’ve made him submit to you after being submissive for so long, “I’m going to bed, you’re welcome to wallow here in your weakness if you��d like.”

***

Tommy drives in silence with Lizzie next to him, quietly fuming. He has half a mind to turn around and drag you from that house himself, but he knew you’d never forgive him for that. “Was a bit daft to dance with her like that in front of her husband, don’t you think, Tom?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the only indication of his agitation, “Was a bit daft to flirt with her husband in front of her for three straight hours, don’t you think, Lizzie?”

“He advanced on me--”

“No,” Tommy’s shaking his head, “No, don’t give me that bullshit. You knew what she meant to me and you went in there to purposely hurt her. Well congratu-fucking-lations Lizzie, you won.”

“As if you didn’t enjoy seeing her hurting after she left you.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” He said dangerously.

“Fine, Tommy,” She says, slumping in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest, “Let her destroy you again, went so well for you the first time.”

He doesn’t respond as he knows there is some truth to what Lizzie is saying. He would let you destroy him again, he would give you his last breath if that was what you wanted.

***

When you wake the next morning, Benjamin is gone. The maid told you he left in the early hours of the morning and handed you a note.

I know what he is and I know what you are. Don’t be here when I return.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Who had told him? How had he figured it out?

The answer was obvious. It had to have been fucking Thomas, trying to force your hand after you refused to leave with him. You crumpled the note and ran back upstairs to get dressed. You figured you had a few days until Benjamin came home, maybe you could still sort it out. The first order of business was going to yell at Tommy.

***

When he sees you walking down the streets of Small Heath looking murderous, he wonders what he’s done. Maybe this is a response to the previous night, but you hadn’t seemed homicidal when he left you.

“What the fuck did you tell him?” You greeted him by shoving him against the nearest building. He raised his arms in bored surrender, not wanting to cause a scene, but you didn’t seem to care about that, “Did you turn around and come back and tell him everything? Do you think I’ll run off with you now that I have nowhere to go?” Tears run down your cheeks now and he frowns in concern, “Well I won’t. I’m fucking done with you, Thomas Shelby. I don’t care if I have to beg on the streets--”

“What are you talking about?” He interjects finally. You look him over, eyes darting over his face and you can see there’s genuine confusion there. He didn’t do this.

Rubbing at your eyes, you sit on the nearest surface, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, “He knows who you are. Which means he knows who I am. He’s kicking me out.”

He gently puts a hand on your elbow, “Come inside. Please.”

For once, you let yourself be guided. He brings you inside the building that says Shelby Company Limited on the outside and then suddenly the rest of the Shelby family is staring at you.

“Tommy,” Polly says softly, staring at you with a hand on her heart, “You told us she was dead.”

You blink and then turn to Tommy who won’t look at any of you, “She was.”

Tommy Shelby had told his whole family that you were dead rather than go through the humiliation of explaining that you had left your old life behind in favor of another. Left him behind. You supposed, in a way, you had died.

Polly’s gaze drifts to your hand where you’re fiddling with your wedding ring. “Oh, Tommy. Tell me you haven’t killed someone’s husband.”

“Not yet,” The words send a jolt through you, “Stay here.” He orders, squeezing your shoulder.

“Tommy, wait,” He turns back to you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill him before he ruins you and then you’ll have your pick of any lord you’d like. Maybe one of them will actually love you this time. Isn’t that what you want?”

It feels like a dig though you’re not sure he meant it to be one, “No.”

Sensing the energy in the room, the rest of Tommy’s family dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

“What d’ya mean ‘no’?” There’s a bit of anger in his voice, “You don’t want to be with me, you don’t want to be a lady anymore, are you gonna live on the streets?”

“For your information, Thomas, if I wanted I could make a living for myself,” He scoffs. “But you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes glittering with tears, “I do want to be with you.” After finally uttering the words, you brace yourself for rejection.

He stares at you and then rubs a hand over his face. He begins shaking his head, “You don’t mean that.”

You walk to him and reach your hands up to frame his face. You expect him to move away from your touch, but he doesn’t. When you gently stroke his face with your thumbs he closes his eyes and you truly understand how you had broken this man in front of you, “I do,” You say again, “And I’m sorry for ever making you think you didn’t deserve me.”

Finally, he does push your hands away and walks to the window on the far side of the room, his back to you, “I still want to kill him.” He says softly.

You frown, “Tommy--”

“If you weren’t in that room last night I would have kept punching and kicking and gouging his eyes out with my bare hands for daring to put a hand on you.” His voice is dangerously low, “Is that still the kind of man that you want?” He finishes bitterly.

He would kill a man for you. The thought sends a thrill through you. “I’ve spent the last few years of my life with a man who didn’t even attempt to learn my favorite type of jam, Tommy, do you understand?”

“It’s strawberry.”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He finally turns to you, “Your favorite jam, it’s strawberry. I used to wait in line for hours in the summer when strawberries were in season to get some for you.” He smiles a bit to himself at the memory, “It was always worth it for the smile and kiss on the cheek you gave me.”

Tears finally cascade down your cheeks as you recall the memory, “I’d forgotten about that.” You say softly, “Tommy, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“You told me minutes ago that you wouldn’t run off with me, that you were done--”

“I know,” You say, “That’s when I thought you had betrayed me, that you wanted to force me to be with you--”

“I would never force you to be with me.” He says fiercely, “I would never force this life, this fuckin’ hell, on anyone.”

You shake your head, “I know what you’ve become since you came home. Knowing all of that, knowing what you’re truly capable of, I still choose you. I know you’re my only chance of real happiness.”

He stares at you for another few moments, “So you’ll marry me, then? The whole bit?”

You smile, “I imagined this whole bit to be much more romantic, but yes, I’ll marry you, Thomas.”

“You can’t change your mind once Benjamin comes back, it’s me or you figure out your own way.”

“I’m not choosing you because of the money. I’ve had the money, all it did was make me miserable.”

He steps to you and runs a thumb over your lips, “You’re really mine then, eh?”

“You know,” Familiar mischief lights up your eyes, “Benjamin won’t be back for a few days… What do you say we drink his expensive wine straight from the bottle and fuck on every surface we can.”

Tommy finally cracks a smile, “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

You laugh and go up on your toes to kiss him. He immediately dips his head to you, breathing you in deep as he kisses you. His tongue slides along your lip until you open to him, awarding him with a soft moan. His tongue strokes against yours and you feel hot need for him pooling between your thighs when he pulls away.

He relishes the pout on your face at his absence, “Save it for Benjamin’s bed, princess.” He smirks and tugs you out of the building, lifting you onto your horse. And as he rides, your arms wrapped around his waist, you only wish you had had the wisdom to choose Tommy Shelby first.

[ariendiel]

Same anon who asked about the cheating, would love to know what would push the LIs to cheat.

Ahhh, thank you for coming back, anon, and I'll do my best to answer this for you! Big caveat for all of these is that I write them from the LIs point of view, so it can seem like I justify the cheating, when I'm very much not okay with cheating irl (yes, I'm still a Noah stan lol, humans are complicated y'all). Also, everyone has different definitions of cheating, so don't feel like you have to read the worst into these.

What could push the S2 LIs to cheat

Bobby

A combination of being easily distracted and needing constant validation could lead Bobby to cheat I think. If his partner isn't able to keep him occupied and feeling fully appreciated I think it could cause him to do something he'll regret. Especially seeing how he loves to be affectionate with his friends, this could go too far if he doesn't feel happy where he is.

Carl

Overwork and long nights at the office. If he doesn't have a partner to help him realise he shouldn't live for work it could lead to him cheating with someone at work I think. The guilt will eat him alive, but he's exhausted and if it's a person that's around a lot I think he could slip in a weak moment.

Elisa

Committment issues combined with her quickly growing bored. She needs constant action, and someone who can handle her influencer lifestyle. If you can't keep up, you're out, and I think that mindset has spread to include relationships for her. Elisa is also quite young still, and I think the thought of finding the one already really terrifies her.

Gary

Aloofness and insecurities combined. Not necissarily the bad kinds, but I think he's not always the best at picking up on his partner's emotions, which can lead to arguments and frustrations. That, combined with some deeply rooted insecurities can make him think it's just easier to go back to his old habits of sleeping around, because his partner is too good for him and deserves someone who understands her.

Henrik

Distance. Both physical and mental. Henrik really is like a golden retriever, and I just don't think he'd enjoy being away or feeling distanced from his partner in any way. Even if she just needs some quiet time or is travelling etc., I think it's the kind of thing that would build up and make him get really nervous and seek comfort elsewhere.

Ibrahim

Insecurity and his inability to resist tempation. He's young, he's rich, and he's now famous. That, combined with how insecure he is, with women who'll throw themselves at him? I fear Rahim is the kind of guy who could make one poor decision one night, and regret it for the rest of his life.

Jakub

Restlessness and committment issues. I think it'll take quite a bit for him to feel ready to actually settle down with someone, he's just not used to the thought, and when he does think about it it's too much.

Lucas

Fear of being abandoned is what I think has and can push Lucas to cheat. You know, the "better to hurt someone before they can hurt you" kind of mindset, because part of his upbringing and the constant moving around has left him scared and anticipating having to say goodbye to everyone and everything that makes him feel grounded.

Marisol

Similar to Lucas, but I think Marisol has more deeply rooted insecurities about letting herself be fully seen. What if when they get to know her, the real her, that they're disappointed? I feel like all these last three on this list are also the worst overthinkers, which can make them do the most dumb things at times.

Noah

I mean, we bascially know the answer for Noah, right? If you do the Noah route "right" he won't be in an official relationship with Hope, so not technically cheating, but I think a similar situation and bad relationship where he feels "trapped" and almost forced to act could push him to cheat. Basically, he doesn't necissarily have the strength to end a bad relationship himself, but he won't be able to resist someone else, leading him to cheat.

[kazbrekkerscoat]

New in Ketterdam -- Ch. 3

Kaz Brekker x OC

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 0.8k

Author's note: I'm switching the pov to third person, I think it will be easier to write ultimately and a bit easier to understand. If I change it back, I will let you know. This chapter is also mainly a chapter to get to know Julia and her family a bit more. It may be more boring and mundane but I want this part of her life to be a good motivation for Julia later.

—

    Julia sat with her family at dinner.  She loved these moments, all her siblings there, her parents present, and terrible food. Her mom was a bad cook and yet prided herself on never getting take-out—although her children would prefer take-out occasionally instead of her meals.

    "So, how has school been going for you three? Any troubles so far?" Mr. Lawerence asked three of his older children. All his children noticed him ignoring the plate before him.

    Florence, Matthew, and Julia all shook their heads. "No problems," said Florence as she ate her meal, slowly. "I've still got high marks and I've been able to hang out with the same group of people from last semester in my classes which is nice."

    "Yeah, same here. Can't complain." Matthew said not looking up from his plate. "Do we have anything else to eat?" He hadn't touched his food and didn't look like he could stomach it.

    Mrs. Lawerence looked up sharply. "No, this is all we have to eat tonight. If you don't like it you can just go to bed." She looked at her husband for support.

    He looked at his wife in confusion that turned a quirked eyebrow to his second daughter. "What about you, Julia? Have you made any friends so far?" His expression darkened slightly, "or have you just been running around on your own all day?"

    Julia looked away from him and towards her mother. "Could I make myself a sandwich instead? You know I don't like fish."

    Mrs. Lawerence dropped the napkin she had just been using around her month, taken aback. "Have you even tried it?"

    Julia looked back at her father. "Yes, I've been liking it so far. And yes, I've met people."

    "Only one," Matthew pretended to cough in his sleeve. He smirked and looked at Mr. Lawerence. "A boy."

    Out of habit, Julia blushed but narrowed her eyes at her brother. Her leg swiftly hit her brother's knee.  "It's not like that, idiot."

    "Jules, just try the fish. It's not that bad. I think you'll really like it," Mrs. Lawerence said, oblivious to the main conversation.

    "A boy?" Mr. Lawerence smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at his daughter. "Is he nice?"

    Julia grabbed her fork and knife and began playing with her food, dropping her red face slightly.  "Yeah, but it's not like that..." she drawled.

    "I'd like to meet this boy."

    Julia groaned and rested her head on the side of the table.

    A brief, amused silence filled the room.

    "For goodness sake, y'all, just try the food. It's not that bad." Mrs. Lawerence eyed all of her children, raising her eyebrows and her voice. "I worked on this for a long time.  It's a recipe our lovely new neighbors gave us today."

    "I didn't know they didn't like us," mumbled Matthew.

—//—

    As all her siblings brought their dishes into the kitchen to rinse them off, Mr. Lawerence called from where he was lounging in the living room with Mrs. Lawrence and their youngest child, George. George was Julia's favorite sibling, because he was a little baby who didn't know how to talk yet. The perfect sibling trait, Julia thought. "Would any of you be interested in an internship at the hospital with me?  You can come after school if you'd like. I'll pay you too."

    No one responded but continued clearing off their plates, arguing amongst themselves on who would be able to get to the sink first.

    "Oh, come on, people," Mr. Lawerence sighed. "Brennan liked it, clearly. He's there and enjoying it full time aren't you, Bren?"

    Although Mr. Lawerence couldn't see, Brennan just shrugged while rinsing off his plate. "It's fine, I guess."

    "You like it," Mr. Lawerence said, his voice showing exaggerated knowing.

    "Maybe Julia would like it," Matthew said teasingly after I had cut in front of him to the sink.

    She spun her head around and gave him a look. "No, maybe Julia would not like it, brother dear."

    "Why don't you try it for a week, Jay? Then you can quit if you want?" Mrs. Lawerence said, poking her head into the kitchen. "Hurry up in there, y'all, it doesn't take all night to rinse of seven plates."

    Mr. Lawerence walked into the room, a finger tapping his lips and his eyebrows furrowing sarcastically. "Mhmm, I think that is a good idea, Matthew." He dropped his hand and smiled at Julia, a more serious tone coating his voice, "I do believe you're grounded for staying out so late, so maybe you will come Monday after school. You don't have anything else, right?"

    Julia sighed and nodded before walking out of the room.

—

Author's note: Short and sweet :) The next chapter will have more Jesper and Kaz moments, don't worry.

[1234-angelika]

Park Picnic

an:Hey y'all! I'm back from my unplanned hiatus and I have been catching up on all the stories I have fallen behind on. So, I have a new Matt fic for y'all. This is the third installment of the Happily Ever After fic for Matt. As always, hope y'all enjoy!

words:1.1k

warnings: mentions of food

summary:"The purpose of our lives is to be happy." -Dalai Lama

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

After Kristy stormed out of the room, the weather outside changed like a bad green screen from a movie, and you couldn’t help yourself; you let out a laugh.

You had a smile on your face, just at the idea of going on a date with Matt. As you walked to the coatroom alongside Matt and the kids, he looked over at you and, noticing the smile on your face, he broke into a broad grin of his own. Packing up the children went as fast as it usually did, meaning not at all. But before you knew it, you were all in the car getting ready to go on the date.

After buckling in the kids, a task in and of itself, you and Matt got into the car. He turned the key in the ignition, and the car roared to life. Turning to face him, you asked,

“So, where are we going?”

“Well since the kids are with us, I was thinking we could grab some food and have a picnic in the park—“

“That sounds lovely.” You tried to respond while he paused but, he just kept going.

“—but if you would rather do something else, we can reschedule….”

He finally stopped talking, and you took a moment to make sure he was actually finished before you answered.

“It’s perfect!” You said wistfully. “I love the idea and, it’s important to include your kids.”

He gave you a soft smile and looked back at his kids before turning back to look at you.

“Is Waffle House okay? That’s the only fast-food David will eat at the moment.”

You nodded, saying, “Wafflehouse it is then.”

Matt drove out of the parking lot, and you guys were on your way. You knew the closest Waffle House was about twenty minutes away on a good day, so you were prepared to keep the kids entertained for the drive. Eight minutes in, and you were right. The kids had already started saying that they were bored and asking if you were there yet. The ride to the drive-thru was full of games of i-spy, kid-friendly trivia (based on cartoons and their favourite characters), and storytelling. The time went quickly, and then, you were at the drive-thru. After collecting the food, Matt parked in the lot and turned to you.

“Do you have a park in mind?”

You thought for a moment before saying, “What about Alum?

“The park not too far from my place?” Matt asked, surprised you even knew about that park.

“Yeah, it’s easier for you then when you need to get home and it’s a beautiful park.”

As you drove through the neighbourhoods, you couldn’t help but notice the vibrant colours and charm coming from the communities. When the car passed his house, you knew you were almost there, and you got a little nervous. You liked Matt a lot and didn’t want to screw it up.

He parked the car under a grove of trees just at the edge of the park, and the two of you got out to help the kids. You set up shop at one of the picnic tables and got them all situated before handing out the food. They ate quickly, and Matt made them wait a few minutes before running off to play. Just as the boys were about to take off, Matt made sure to tell them,

“Jake and David, the two of you are responsible for your sisters. Make sure you stay where I can see you okay?”

To hurry their dad along, the boys grabbed the hands of their sisters before running to the playground. Once you cleaned up the kids’ mess, you finally took a seat at the picnic table. And though your food was cold, you didn’t mind one bit. You were already having a great time. Grabbing the food that was left, you divided it between you and Matt. He walked back to the table and sat down across from you, still keeping an eye on the kids while conversing with you. You guys ate in comfortable silence, occasional conversation drifting in and out effortlessly. Being with Matt was easy. It didn’t feel forced.

Hours went by, and the kids were still playing, and you and Matt were still talking. Once the sun started to go down, it got a little more chilly. You shivered slightly, and Matt, keen eye as always, offered you his jacket. You accepted, and he gently draped it over your shoulders. As happy as the action made you, you couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes at how the cliche move gave you such a serotonin boost. Only a little after that, the girls came back to the table and sat down. Lily, beside you and Chloe beside Matt, leaned against you guys, obviously tired from the long day.

It was only about half an hour later when the boys ran up to the table.

“Daddy, Miss Y/N, can you play?” David asked, looking at Matt. The puppy eyes the boys were sporting were guaranteed to work on Matt. The girls seemed to perk up at this.

You nodded, and just as you were going to answer, your phone started ringing. You frowned at the caller id before answering the boys.

“Daddy can go play. I need to make a call and then I can come okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously and ran back to the playground, siblings in tow. Matt turned to look at you before joining them.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He asked, a little worried about your reaction to the phone call.

“I’m sure. It should be quick and then I’ll come join you guys.”

He gave you one last look before taking off after the kids.

“Matt?” You called out.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back to look at you.

“This is the best first date I’ve been on.” You said with a smile on your face.

You could just make out the smile on his face in the dusk lighting before he turned back and continued for the playground. You made your phone call, and as you were waiting for the person to answer, you watched them play. And the smile from not long ago made its way back to your face. This was a perfect first date. You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

taglist:@multixfandomwriter

@gspenc @myescapefromthislife

[piratewithvigor]

KNIGHTS

An introduction to a knight who prefers the finer things in life: good ale, good company, and beheading his enemies.

A/N: I'm so so sorry I had to inform some of y'all about H*gan's tag team with Mr. T for Wrestlemania I. To the best of my recollection, he's only in 3 of the first 17 chapters, so don't worry too much. I also hate his guts and tried to keep his involvement to a minimum.

CHAPTER 3: Ten Strokes

Ten strokes and then flip the blade. Ten strokes only. No more, no less.

“Un… deux… trois…”

The sword in the man’s hands rested primarily on the table in front of him. He was able to lift it, certainly, even one-handed if he had to, but that was for matches, when his only directive was to draw blood. He liked the simple rules of a first blood match. They made sense. If he killed his opponent, they’d have to find him a new one instead of re-using them. But drawing just a little blood, just causing a single cut, that was possible. Even easy. Sometimes too easy with a sword this size. So he reserved it for much larger opponents. Opponents who were even maybe as tall as the sword instead of a fraction of its size. He could use a regular sword if he was fighting anyone smaller. Give them some kind of chance so no audience could be bored by seeing him. He liked performing, after all. It was one of the best jobs he’d ever had.

“Un… deux… trois…”

He rubbed the oil over the whetstone, ensuring it to be ideal for sharpening. He’d settle for nothing less. When he traveled from his village in the mountains, all he had was his name and the sword slung across his back. Made in a particular workshop designed for greatswords. The iron was mined practically across the street from the forge and then was brought over and the man who would receive the sword would participate in its creation. It was a right of passage of sorts. Once a boy was finished growing, he would receive his first true sword; as big a sword as he could carry with ease.

Andre, having passed seven feet tall before he was even 20, by rule of the tradition, was gifted a greatsword. Being so big, it required weeks of work to make perfect. As such, Andre made a special point of treating it as delicately as an aging family member. Cleaning after every five hours of use and sharpening once a week. He liked to believe it was the care he put into it that made it such a devastating weapon. Someone else might say it was the man who makes the weapon and not the other way around, but Andre was of the firm conviction that drawing blood was significantly easier with his sword than without it.

“Un… deux… trois…”

The rhythmic scraping of the stone against the steel was interrupted by a knock at the rotting wood of his workshop door. Andre looked up just enough to note the identity of his visitor before holding up a finger to finish his counting.

“Neuf… dix.”

He set down the stone and pulled off his sturdy gloves as he approached his captain.

“Captain Albano. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What have you heard lately, Roussimoff, of an upcoming tournament?”

Andre shrugged a little as he pulled up a chair for Captain Albano.

“I mostly keep to myself, Captain. Heard there was a tournament happening, but not much beyond that.”

“Have you fought in one before?”

“Probably thousands, Captain. I’ve been fighting since I was nineteen years old,” Andre chuckled, thinking back to his days of learning how to properly wield his sword according to first blood rules and not to first death rules. Not that he was trying to behead his opponents, but he'd amassed quite a collection of mannequins who lacked heads. A complete, unfortunate coincidence.

“First blood rules?”

“Mostly. Also did a couple first limb matches before they were outlawed in France.”

“And you were victorious?”

“I still have all four, do I not?”

Andre lifted his arms and walked in a brief circle, showing off a little bit. Besides a small burn on his forearm where his glove had fallen too low while working, his skin was unmarked. No scars. No indication that he had ever been cut deep enough to draw blood.

“Very impressive… fighting all this time and looking as unmarked as a woman.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I can’t help being the biggest and the strongest. Nor will I apologize for it or take offense.”

“I meant none. Having no scars, not even ones from your youth indicates to me that either the cuts you have suffered were shallow, or you’ve never been cut.”

“I’m not undefeated, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is. Who could have possibly defeated you?”

“My brother. We play fought as children with wooden swords, if they could be called that. More sticks with hand protection fashioned out of kindling and tied with some bits of string. It was from him I got this…” Andre moved his apron to reveal the smallest of scars on the side of his chest. If one didn’t know any better, they could guess it was a birthmark.

“That’s your only scar?” Captain Albano asked, leaning forward in his seat with wide eyes.

“The only one I know of, Captain.”

“I suppose you’d like to keep it that way.”

“If it’s a possibility, I would.”

“Who’s the largest man you’ve ever faced in combat?”

Andre had to pause to think. For the most part, because he wasn’t sure where all these questions were coming from. Captain Albano never really visited men in their barracks and certainly hadn’t bothered to visit Andre. Now he was here with questions of his past fighting. Seemingly very random questions. On initial instinct, Andre supposed that he was missing some piece of the puzzle. Some nuance of English that was yet unfamiliar to him. He’d never gone to school, after all. Understood counting and measurements as requirements for the work he did, and had learned English attending matches and tournaments. He fancied himself fairly apt in both aspects, but it didn’t change the fact that he had never been the smartest man on the continent either. Until he understood what exactly Captain Albano was getting to, he’d play along. Pretend he knew exactly what was going on at all times.

“Well, his name escapes me, but he was about so tall,” Andre explained with a hand placed halfway up his neck.

“Fairly tall. Was he strong?”

“Had to be to think he had a chance against me.”

“But he didn’t, did he?”

“The closest anyone has ever come was my brother. No other man has come half so near.”

The look in Captain Albano’s eyes almost frightened Andre. He was grinning like a madman and rubbing his hands together like one possessed. Eyeing him up and down like a plump steak, dripping with butter. Andre knew, because that was exactly how he looked at the steaks he ate the night before. All twelve of them.

“Captain Albano, not to be rude, but was there something you needed? I haven’t finished sharpening yet and I hate to leave things unfinished.”

Captain Albano nodded as he stood, seemingly removed from his greedy daze.

“This tournament that’s happening, it’s called SteelMania. The king himself is arranging it.”

“Sounds very important.”

“It is. The fate of the kingdom could depend on it.”

“I’m not very good at organization, Captain.”

“I know, Roussimoff. But what I’ve come to tell you is that one of the matches at this tournament features you against a man of Lord Heenan’s. Named Studd.”

Well that was certainly news. He certainly hadn’t been consulted, and if it were any other set of circumstances, he may even be annoyed. But if the tournament was as important as Captain Albano said, he could let it slide. What unnerved him far more was that he’d never heard of this man Studd before.

“I’ve never heard the name before.”

“Neither had I before yesterday. But Lord Heenan says he’s as big as you, perhaps stronger. A man who could finally even your battlefield.”

Andre just scoffed. It was an exaggeration, surely. The people of his village were already large, and he was the biggest of all of them. There was no way this man could be anywhere near his size. It was simply impossible, lest he was a true giant.

“I’ll believe it when I see him. Will I get the opportunity before the tournament?”

“He’ll have to travel here, and I don’t know Lord Heenan to be the most discrete of men. I would wager he’d want to display Studd and liven up the imaginations of the people who come to watch.”

“And when does the tournament take place?”

“Yet undecided, but the King hopes no later than six months from now.”

“And the rules, first blood?”

Captain Albano went quiet. In the heat of the moment, he’d been so certain in his words. He still was, most assuredly, but telling a man you’ve wagered his livelihood, especially a man with the strength and power of Andre, was never a good idea. Not the passtime one might expect.

“In fact… no.”

“Then what? First limb? I’d hate to maim a man Lord Heenan speaks highly of.”

“No, not first limb, it’s-”

“What? To the death?” Certainly not his favourite set of rules, but if a tournament of this magnitude required them…

“No, Roussimoff. The match you have does not really have a set of rules with a name. We happened to invent it during the planning discussion.”

A new match? This was exciting. New matches with new sets of rules truly livened up the game. Andre would always like first blood; they were old, classic, reliable rules. Not as traditional as to the death, but far more enjoyable. A cut to the finger could win him the match and his opponent would be healed in a week. That way, he could fight the same man over and over.

“You are familiar of course with Lord Heenan’s particular brand of boasting?”

“Endless?”

“Precisely. He insisted that during the hundreds of battles fought by Studd, he’s never been knocked off his feet.”

“That’s absurd. Everyone falls down. Even I fall down if I’m hit properly.”

“Lord Heenan says Studd hasn’t. This match you’re to fight is a… wager of sorts. Within a set time limit, you must knock Studd off his feet. Should you fail to do so, you will be forced into retirement.”

Surely, Andre’s hearing had to be going. The constant clanging of steel had to be damaging his ears. There was no other explanation for what he thought he’d just heard.

“You’ll have to pardon me, Captain Albano, my hearing isn’t what it was. Did you say I’ll be forced into retirement?”

There was no amusement in Andre’s voice like there had been during his visit thus far. It was irritation at best now, and anger at the worst.

“That was the wager, yes.”

“And if I win?”

“Lord Heenan’s promised fifteen thousand in gold.”

“Then I hope he’s prepared to be fifteen thousand poorer.”

“Are you that confident? Prepared to beat him in six months?”

Such a question was almost laughable. Andre was always ready. It didn’t matter how long he’d gone without fighting; he was always ready. At their best, no man could truly compete with Andre’s worst. Perhaps he wasn’t as fast as he’d been in his youth, but what he’d sacrificed in speed, he made up for in power.

He lifted his sword from the table with a single hand, turning it over to inspect the blade against the light of the open door.

“Captain Albano, Studd should be grateful he’s only getting knocked over.”