#protection trope

[askfordoodles]

I just noticed when Ozzie appears behind Fizz, the initial explosion shows his sigil for exactly ONE frame (replacing Mammon's sigil we've seen plastered throughout the episode). I just thought it was a neat little detail, Asmodeus essentially summoned himself in that moment.

[daftmooncretin]

richard siken (crush.)

[scealaiscoite]

bodyguard/protectee prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

⋆ “um, look- i know i’m only meant to be here for you in a professional capacity, but if you ever need anything i’m here for you.”

⋆ “come on, just admit it- i’m starting to grow on you, aren’t i?”

⋆ “since when does your job extend to giving me relationship advice?” “it doesn’t, but i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i didn’t at least try to tell you how much more you deserve than that idiot.”

⋆ “don’t tell your coworkers, but you’re my favourite.”

⋆ “i know it’s like your job or whatever, but i- i’ve never had anyone protect me like that before. so, uh- thanks, i guess.”

⋆ “don’t worry. i’m not going to tell anyone that my big bad bodyguard like to be the little spoon.”

⋆ “i think if you let people see this side of you more often, you wouldn’t have any need for me.”

⋆ “we’re gonna be in this car for eight hours! you’re not gonna combust if you speak to me more than one word at a time.”

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

⋆ while the protectee is in the process of overworking themselves, the bodyguard reluctantly steps in to make them take a break

⋆ after an event that shakes the protectee, the bodyguard silently takes their hand and doesn’t let go until they’re safe again

⋆ the bodyguard gets injured in the process of coming between the protectee and a physical threat and, in a panic, the protectee fusses over them as they gingerly tend to their wounds

⋆ after overhearing a personal argument that leaves the protectee upset, a very out-of-their-depth bodyguard tries their best to comfort them

⋆ whilst trying to cheer up a downtrodden protectee, the otherwise stoneyfaced bodyguard divulges the first pieces of personal information they’ve ever given to anyone on the job

⋆ during an overnight protection detail, the bodyguard finds themselves keeping company to an insomniac protectee

⋆ one finally building up the courage to ask the other out on a date once their professional relationship is over

[breezy-cheezy]

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive

This part really struck me, and I wanted to draw it! Luffy is just trying to protect his little family, and while the Lapins nearly got them killed, he still helps pull one out of the snow....because he recognizes they're trying to protect their family too. And I love that ;v;

BASICALLY A PANEL REDRAW here's the panel

[suzyandthefox]

ok but like

Vore in a protective , parent-like sense will always get me, it will always remain my favourite.

A pred giving a prey a comfort they lost, being their home temporarily.

The pred saying things like

"You're safe now"

"I will protect you"

"You're very brave, I'm proud of you"

For the pred to call their prey "little one" "small one", etc.

For the pred to hum a gentle lullaby to their scared prey

And for the prey to say things like

"Hide me"

"Protect me"

"I have no home/no body/nowhere to go"

The descriptions of a stomach as a cradle, the soft sobs a frightened prey lets out as they huddle into the soft flesh, they speak their fears and pain into the walls and the folds of the being around them.

And the walls listen to them.

To be cared for, to be loved, to be hidden where no one should see or harm you.

Idk man.

[lycoric3]

You know what's so bitter about Yoohyun leaving Yoojin in order to protect him? The fact that he never really understood the social implications of it.

We know that Han Yoohyun doesn't care for social cues, laws and regulations, all mannerisms and behaviour towards people are done simply to please his brother. And so- he doesn't realise that by denouncing Yoojin, as a highly praised and popular S-class, he has condemned him in society. Yoohyun leaves as soon as he can, publicly announces that he's a burden, and the media is having a field day where Yoojin is made a villain.

Unfortunately, it's only made worse by Yoojin's lost desperation to find out why his brother, his child, who he has raised all his life has left him behind. Has spit in his face and is so cold, and that maybe Yoojin has failed him all this time. His desperation in trying to get to talk to Yoohyun at least once, to give him a birthday cake, to awaken so that maybe he can reach him. It only ends up adding to this manic, ungrateful and spiteful image that the world views him as.

Yoojin is condemned by society. Yoohyun gets mad that he's a hunter but Yoojin has no other option. He can't get a regular job because his reputation has been dragged through the mud and because the constant public attention is too burdensome for any employers. Seok Simyeong has constantly berated Yoojin, fucking up his mental state and as the 'spokesperson' of Yoohyun, Yoojin must think its true.

Yoohyun tries to protect him from hunters through this instinctual thought of predators and prey, but society is far too nuanced and he doesn't understand. By trying to leave him out of the dungeons, he left him to the world.

Oh Han Yoohyun, you've doomed him.

[krismiss-cos]

DPxDC idea thing

Now with AO3 post!

So picture this, the Justice League have just captured the new vigilante called Phantom. So far he has refused to talk to any JL members and seemingly vanished every time they tried to speak to him. After a particularly difficult battle Superman is finally able to put power restricting cuffs on Phantom and bring him to the Watchtower. Phantom has been silent since being subdued and looks like he's being walked to his execution.

Meanwhile, Red Hood has been brought in on an unrelated case and is speaking to a League member when he feels a kind of tugging in his chest. He starts walking in the direction he's being pulled and looks through the one way mirror looking into one of the interrogation rooms. He locks eyes with the green eyed boy and feels fire start burning in his chest as his brain screams protect king help. He's consumed with a feeling almost like the pit rage as he bursts through the door and makes a beeline to Danny. Batman starts to step in front of him but Jason throws him into the wall and undoes Danny's cuffs. Once Danny is free Jason blinks and looks around, feeling unbalanced now that the all consuming need to protect Phantom has subsided.

Danny is completely stunned as he looks at this leather clad mountain of a man that radiates safe protected friend. He's quickly snapped out of his shock as Superman enters the room and starts to grab Jason's shoulder. Danny's protective king instincts kick in as he darts between Supes and Jason, in a voice filled with static and cracking ice he says, "Don't touch my Knight."

[snazzydwarf]

Dp x DC: Mind Traveller

Okay do y'all remember the old trope in DP fics of "Danny get's hurt by a ghost/machine and is now in a coma like state, the only way of getting him to wake up is to go inside his mind and meet different aspects of Danny's personality (sometimes it's looking through his memories)"

Okay yeah that but! Make it Dp x DC!

Maybe a war has broken out between the GZ and the GIW, conflicting information is being given to the JL from both sides, and so far their stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand there's a whole species and town throwing allegations towards a Government organization about kidnapping, torture and experimentation.

Then there's the Ghost Investigation Ward saying they've been working withing legal limits, and haven't done anything wrong. It's not breaking the Meta Protection acts due to none of the "affected" having the Meta gene, and therefore not counting as a Meta.

Most GIW subjects had not survived when it had came to light, those who had "lived" could not come out of the Ghost Zone because of how fragile their cores had become, and everything was still too risky to send someone over on uncharted territories to get their statement.

The one option they had was a young boy they had found, although he was in a coma and hadn't woken up in weeks. The situation was getting more and more dire as the public and ghosts grew restless with every day that passed.

Martian Manhunter spoke to Danny while he was in his coma, however he was only able to access surface entry due to unknown reasons. This was enough to talk to the boy however, and gain permission to enter his mind and find out more about the situation they had all landed themselves into.

With written consent from both of Danny's parent's a small group of 3 JL members along with Jazz, Sam and Tucker ( who came along to clean up any confusion or questions they might have) journeyed into the mind of the young boy, not realising they are about to witness the rise and fall of a hero who was born to young.

[color-beyond-lines]

Shout out to Unknown for demonstrating that serious injuries do have long-term affects on your body and your mind.

There isn’t an episode that goes by where we aren’t reminded of everything Qian has gone through to get to where he is. And it’s not just from flashbacks. It’s in the scars that remain on his body. The nightmares that haunt his sleep. In his interactions with women. His fierce protectiveness of his family. Qian’s triggers and responses to them make sense and don’t just appear out of the blue for dramatic effect.

So much of the emotional and physical trauma that Qian has experienced continues to impact his daily life in a way that makes him feel less like a character with a tragic backstory and more like an actual person with lived experience.

[bellamysgriffin]

BELLAMY BLAKE WEEK 2023 ⇢ DAY 2: Favorite Trait Protective!Bellamy (Clarke Edition)

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok? See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. [Fit tries to lasso Pac] You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, we don't have time to be gay right now.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

-

Pac: I'm just here to say goodbye to you, Fit.

Fit: Goodbye? We're not– we're gonna be fine, we're going to get out of here, don't worry.

Aypierre: Yeah, don't worry!

Pac: I know, but like– I will sleep until the end, you know? I will pass through this moment sleeping, man. I won't be able to be awake for the moment.

Fit: [Laughs] You know, it's– I mean, if that's how you wanna go, but– I mean, that- I mean, isn't that bed kind of like.... I don't know, it's–

Pac: No no, I will be staying on the sofa, you know, I will be staying on the sofa.

Fit: Oh the sofa. Ok, that's a nice sofa! Yeah, that is a pretty nice sofa.

Pac: Yeah, it's a nice sofa right? No, yeah– I'm going to stay on the sofa, you know? So, since I will be going Fit... [Pac starts tossing Fit all his items]

Aypierre: [Not paying attention to their conversation] Is that bigger cell? I don't think it's a bigger- biggest one.

Fit: Oh... Thank you Pac, thank you.

Pac: Everything you need to survive, ok?

Fit: Wow.

Aypierre: Wow.

Pac: And if you need this one also, maybe, who knows? [Throws him more items]

Fit: Ohhh, well hey– just take this to remember me by, ok? [Tosses him a photo of himself – the same one Aypierre was carrying all day yesterday]

Pac: [Laughs] Ok, I will sleep holding the picture you know, like this. You know, I will dream about you, Fit. And I hope this is gonna be good dreams. I see you in the other side. Good luck, my friend.

Fit: The other side... Yeah, you know, yeah, we– we– you know? It's been an honor, Pac. It's been an honor, you know?

Pac: Yeah, for me too, you know? Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok?

Fit: Ok.

Pac: See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: I will sing your praise– Oh yeah, hey– [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Fit: Sorry, there's–

Pac: I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, you guys– we don't have time to be gay right now, come on. There's no time.

Pac: No, there's no time! Oh, goodbye Fit...

Fit: Ok, c'mon, no no no, come on, we got this we got this!

Pac: Goodbye Fit, I'm sorry!

Fit: [Laughs] Oh no...

[whumblr]

Find them!

Good whump words in all variants. So have some prompts you can hear :) from calm and collected to most desperate.

- Whumpee hiding in a darkened room. They hear the door open, hear multiple sets of footsteps enter, getting closer, walking past. Then a calm "Find them".

- Whumper bending over, picking up the remnants of cut rope. He straightens back up, looks around. A click of the tongue. This is an inconvenience.

- A blood trail leading to the woods (Whumper: calm, with a smile. Caretaker: a little less calm)

- The captives have escaped, but the building is sealed anyway.

- The (snow) storm is getting more extreme and Whumpee hasn’t come back yet. "We have to find them!"

- Whumper has been signalled nearby and Whumpee (oblivious) is out.

- Caretaker realising in the midst of chaos that Whumpee isn't among them anymore.

- Whumper who has just been shot (bonus if sniper) or punched to the ground screaming in rage, "Find them!"

- Caretaker crying, pleading with the rescue team.

- Whumper slamming the door to their office open. Surprise :) the precious thingamajig / important documents / hostages are missing.

- Whumper finding the cell empty. And the bigger badder Whumper is waiting for them.

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part four❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.

♡ Warnings: talk of parent death, light angst, fluff, stalking, hints to death threats

Part 5

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Despite falling asleep way earlier then you had meant to last night, you still felt exhausted. Mentally, physically— everything.

You had hoped to wake up, with all the events from yesterday being a dream. But unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the heartbreak.

Your hand itched for your phone, wanting to call your Father— to apologize. Pathetic, I know. You didn’t mean to stress him out, if that’s what you did. You didn’t mean to cause any problems, you were simply trying to spend time with him. As harmless as the act seemed, apparently it was an issue.

You were alone.

The thought brought images of your Mother to the surface, which for the most part were happy. It was the longing to have her hold you that brought on the wave of tears. You missed her so much. Her passing was so sudden— so out of nowhere. You’d give anything to see her one more time, to say goodbye this time.

“Morning Mom… I miss you.” You whispered to the ceiling, a part of you waiting for an answer you knew would never come.

You remembered the nights that you wailed to your walls, crying to the ceilings— in your desperate attempts to talk to your Mother. Even after some time, the pain didn’t fade. You knew it never would.

Although she wasn’t physically here, you hoped everyday that she was watching over you.

Your head pounded slightly from crying last night— into this morning. You quickly decided to hop into the shower, hoping that the warm water would relax your muscles, calm your racing thoughts.

Today was a good day, you would make sure of that.

~

After showering, you already felt better. You felt clean— almost as if the shower had physically washed away the negativity. Well, you hoped it did just that.

Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, you headed downstairs. Already brainstorming ideas for breakfast, wondering what Bucky likes?

James. Where to even start.

You figured out pretty soon after meeting him that he was reserved. Kept to himself, would rather sit in the corner of the room while everyone else talked.

You giggled to yourself, thinking of him like a bear. He was a big burley man— like a bear. He could eat an entire fridge— like a bear. He was a total grump… but with that you could see the fuzzy side of him locked away— like a bear. Well, kinda.

You only noticed his fuzzy side from last night, helping you to bed— which was a little blurry amongst you being exhausted. But overall, you could tell he was being gentle with you. He could’ve easily just thrown you on the bed and called it a night, but he didn’t. He made sure you were okay— comfy.

The thought of him caring about you, even in the slightest— had your heart beating rapidly. Your stomach fluttering with sudden nerves.

Before you could finish your thought, you bumped right into a slick chest. Wait— slick?

Stepping back, your mouth hung open. Your eyes betraying you as they scanned up and down the view in front of you.

Bucky had just ended a workout it seemed, and was standing in front of you with his shirt off— exposing his thick, toned muscles. His body shined with sweat, and you could hear his slight heavy breathing.

All of a sudden you were just barely closing your legs together tight. You were only human— and the sight of him like this had your brain short circuiting.

“Sorry (Y/n).” He apologized, his voice breathy.

You took a deep breath, giving him a smile, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks— and you just knew you were red in the face. You looked down, pretending that the floor was suddenly interesting.

“Oh it’s f-fine!” You rushed out, stumbling over your word’s suddenly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

What was wrong with you? You see him shirtless once and suddenly you are a cat in heat— control yourself!

Bucky on the other hand noticed your colored cheeks, smirking to himself at your nervous behavior. He realized he was shirtless, but he didn’t think you’d have much of a reaction.

You snuck another look at his glowing chest, your eyes then noticing the dark metal on his left arm. You furrowed your brows in curiosity, and instinctively leaned closer to investigate.

Bucky watched your eyes lock on his arm, and he couldn’t push down the discomfort the gesture brought. It wasn’t you— no. It was the reminder that he was different, and that no matter what— people would always view him differently.

You glanced up for a second, catching the discomfort in his eyes briefly. You cleared your throat and straightened back up.

“Sorry— I didn’t mean to stare like that! I’ve just never seen something so cool.” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

Bucky waved it off, like it was no big deal— because it really wasn’t. For some reason he didn’t mind your curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushed it off.

You nodded your head in understanding, but he could tell you had many questions.

“Go ahead.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

Your eyes sparkled and you focused back on his arm.

“Can you feel things with it?” You asked, knowing it was a dumb question— but with how high tech the arm seemed… you were genuinely curious.

“No, it’s like any prosthetic— just a metal one.” He told you, holding his arm out so you could see it better.

“Since it’s metal— is it heavy?”

“Surprisingly no.” He answered, looking down at his own arm— inspecting the gold designs.

He realized then, he never really took much time to investigate his own arm. He was shocked to notice even tinier details amongst the gold streaks.

“If you walked by a fridge— would the magnets stick onto your arm?” You asked and Bucky squinted his eyes, giving you the look.

“I don’t know— but we aren’t going to test that theory.” He huffed annoyed, although it was hard to keep the act up when he heard your light laughter float through the air.

You were holding a palm over your mouth, in attempt to quiet the giggles— but the tune leaked through the cracks of your fingers. The sweet song dancing around him.

“Sorry, sorry. That was mean! I just wanted to know.” You giggled.

Before you could think about your next move, you stepped forward and held his metal hand in yours— looking closely at the metal.

Bucky knew he couldn’t feel things with his metal prosthetic, so why was he suddenly getting this phantom tingling where his fingers should be.

“So cool.” You whispered to yourself.

Bucky fought down the smile at your reaction to something so simple. Well, simple to him.

He cleared his throat and started to pull his hand away, despite him not really wanting to.

You released it quickly, scratching the back of your neck again in embarrassment. By now, your cheeks were dusted a dark pink.

“Oh… um anyway— I was actually looking for you, trying to decide what to make for breakfast? Any ideas?” You asked him.

Bucky waved you off again.

“That’s not necessary, I had…” He only had a single cup of coffee this morning. “I had something already.”

You nodded in understanding, but felt disappointed that you weren’t going to be able to make him something. Providing him with food made you feel needed— even if it was breakfast here and there.

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll just make something for myself then. I was thinking later I could go shopping for some things, wanted to do some baking!” You announced happily.

Meanwhile, Bucky tensed up. Remembering Pierces words of advice to keep you home as much as possible. The threat to your life still looming over your head.

He’d come up with something— something to distract you from going out. Although, the sensible side of him wanted to tell you the truth. Out of everyone— you deserved to know.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” He started, not sure if he should tell you or not.

You faced him, waiting patiently with a smile.

He felt so guilty all of sudden, keeping something like that from you. But he couldn’t go against Pierce’s wishes. He was your Father— despite being an odd one that is.

“Uh… Maybe we could get to know each other better later?” It was the only thing he could think of in the moment, something that would keep you from going out.

Again, he felt the guilt seeping throughout him when he saw your eyes widen in pure joy.

“Yeah of course! I wou— that would be great!” You rushed out, completely forgetting about baking.

You wanted to unlock all his secrets, not because you wanted to pry— no. It was because he was so mysterious, his presence alone made you want to know more about him. You could also see that he was a good man, and you already trusted him. Why wouldn’t you want to know more? That was the only reason— yeah.

You sent him another smile, one that had the corner of your eyes crinkling— and you headed towards the kitchen. He couldn’t ignore the way you were almost skipping.

Yeah— he felt like shit.

~

You had made and eaten breakfast, heading towards the library first thing after.

You had previously been reading lots of Thrillers— the suspense always being one of your favorites. The way you could flip the page, on the edge of your seat— anxiously awaiting what was next. There were so many books where the pages seem slightly crumpled, from the many times you were so eager reading— you squeezed the pages from excitement.

Although, things started to shift since a couple days ago. I guess, things started to shift since Bucky became your bodyguard.

It wasn’t an immediate shift— no. It was a slow change, as before— there was no tension in the air. Well, of course because you were by yourself. Now, the air seemed thick— growing thicker as each day passed. But it wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable tension, rather one the you felt drawn to.

The change had you ditching your suspense filled books— and replacing them with romance instead.

It wasn’t a genre you shied away from. In fact, you had read quite a selection of them— yet none had stuck with you.

Something in the air brought you to the romance section of the library, and you were shocked to find yourself glued to your spot— your eyes searching the rows of books.

~

Bucky was checking the windows of the house when he heard the sound of faint knocking coming from the front door.

He furrowed his brows, wanting to believe that is was Steve stopping by again. But he couldn’t keep the fearful thought away— that it might be your stalker. The perimeter was guarded, making it impossible for someone unknown to approach the house. But this stalker seemed to of gotten past them already, leaving pictures and notes scattered.

His hands clenched into fists, his shoulder tense. This was another reason why he wanted you to be aware of your stalker— so you could be prepared. He wanted you to know a backup plan, know a place to hide while he took care of them. Right now, you were clueless about the threat towards you. It only caused him to be more stressed, needing to talk with Pierce immediately.

He walked to the door, glancing through the frosted glass— he didn’t see any silhouettes of anyone. Giving one last look, he opened the door and was relived to find the front porch empty.

Although, the relief was short lived. As he looked down near the mat— he found a box. It was white with red ribbon tied around it.

He felt a presence suddenly and glanced up in alert, but relaxed instantly when he saw Steve approaching.

“Hey Buck, you alright?” Steve asked, walking up the front steps.

Bucky ignored Steve’s perfect timing and assumed he had men watching the front door at all times— but if that was the case… then why hadn’t they seen who dropped this off?

“Yeah— just found this.” He pointed to the box, which Steve immediately got triggered by.

“Where did tha— Buck. When did this get here?” Steve asked, grabbing his walkie.

“Just now— I heard a knock and when I opened the door there was no one here. Just this box.” He explained, looking at the box— curious.

“Okay. I’m going to take this and get it off her property— in case it’s a bomb.” Steve told him, which had Bucky widening his eyes in concern.

“Jesus— okay. Be careful.” Bucky huffed, feeling more stressed.

Steve put his walkie away, giving Bucky a nod before grabbing the box carefully, walking it away from the house in a haste.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, walking back in the house and securing all the locks again. A part of him wanted to know what was in the box— but another part of him was scared to find out what was inside.

His mind was cruel and had him imagining the most vile things, he hoped that whatever was inside— wasn’t what he was thinking.

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[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#2 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Cassandra decides to join the IC for dinner. Things feel weird and wrong but also…safe and comfortable. She opens up to them about her past traumas and gets to know more about them.

Warnings/Tags: mentions physical and visual sexual abuse in the recent past. describes physical violence. trauma. mute character. slow burn. protective!azriel. protective!IC.

Authors Note: All reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next part! Regular italics are inter thoughts while bold italics are her communicating with other people mentally.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

“Relax,” Nuala cooed as she helped Cassandra ease into the large bath, warm and floral scented.

Cassandra had never been in a bath like this. Only one suited for regular fae without wings. They had been cramped and uncomfortable and nearly impossible to bathe everywhere without hurting a wing. But this bath? It was huge and could easily fit multiple people with and without wings. It stretched all the way to one of those glassless windows where the water spilled over in a soothing stream.

She leaned back when Nuala prompted, letting her wings float in the water. It was so nice the way they felt so weightless. Nuala tilted her head back and their eyes met as she cupped her hands with water and poured it over Cassandra’s white hair. She lathered it with a nice smelling soap, massaging at her scalp.

It was difficult to lay there and relax while someone else washed her hair. It reminded her of the mistress, how when she bathed her and washed her hair it was rushed and rough and…and when she washed her hair like this she would sometimes push her head under the water and hold her there—

Cassandra bolted up with a gasp, hands coming up to wipe away the water that fell down from her hair and over her face, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She whirled around, wide eyes catching Nuala’s, trying to desperately apologize for what she had done. The female just shook her head gently.

“It’s okay,” She said, “would you like to be left alone for a moment?”

Cassandra considered this, she both wanted to be alone and have someone else around. But she nods her head. Cerridwen walked in then, a stack of something in her hand.

“Clothes for you,” she said, sitting the stack on a shelf across the room. “We will be back but if you finish with your bath and wish to dress before we return the clothes will be here.”

Cassandra nods. She doesn’t know what else to do, but the females seem to understand, offering her small nods in return before leaving the room—the heavy door closing as they leave the bedroom the bedroom.

She sinks down in the water once she’s sure she’s alone. So much has changed in such a short time and she’s still not sure if this is all real. These people…they could change any moment. Drag her from this huge room and throw her into a prison cell and use her for whatever they pleased.

Turning in the water she pushed herself towards the other end of the tub, the one that waterfalls over the edge. What she sees there takes her breath away, an audible gasp leaving her lips.

The first thing she notices is all the lights, it looked exactly like the painting she saw with Morrigan. There was so much to look at. But what she really wanted to see was the beautiful sight above that. The night sky. The thousands of stars twinkling above, surrounding a bright moon.

She could have cried looking at the sight. But not because she felt sad, she felt safe. Comfortable. Content. Like this was where she was meant to be.

Eventually she did get out of the bath, drying herself off with the fluffy white towel that was unnaturally warm. She stopped in front of the mirror, surprised at her own reflection. She looked so different from the last time she actually saw herself. Her skin that was once a golden caramel color was lighter and ashen, dark circles under her green eyes. Her white hair slicked back with water was thinner than when it used to fall in thick ringlets as a girl. Her rib cage and hip bones protruding in a way they always had but wished they hadn’t. She had wanted a thicker, fuller body like the girls she saw at the pleasure houses. A strong body like her mothers used to be. A body that could hold up her wings and maybe one day…fly.

She had gotten dressed before Nuala and Cerridwen returned. The clothes weren’t like anything she’d ever worn before. Cream colored pants that were lined with a fuzzy material that was softer than anything she’d ever worn before. The top was a matching cream, flowy top with sleeves that stopped at her elbows and buttoned up the back to accommodate her wings. The shoes were white, flat and slipped on her feet easily.

She chose not to attend dinner that night. She wasn’t sure she could stomach any food. The twins looked disappointed. Her decision had been made to gauge how she would be treated if she didn’t have dinner with this high lord male.

She didn’t leave her room the following day either.

Or the day after that.

No one bothered her. No one came to drag her from the room kicking and screaming. No one beat on the door or called her horrible names. No one held her down or forced the food into her mouth. In fact no one except Nuala and Cerridwen came to her room at all.

And when they came they would bring a small tray of food, she only ever drank the tea and ate the biscuit and left everything else. She didn’t want to take too much before knowing if she was expected to do something in return.

When she finally felt safe enough she agreed to dinner on her fourth night. Nuala bathed her again. She couldn’t help the panic that overcame her once again as the female washed her hair but she cooed at her, soothingly before getting up and leaving her to finish alone as she had the first night.

Cerridwen took on fixing her hair, drying and styling it into waves that fell over her shoulders. Once she was done and dressed Nuala put a cream on her face and spritzed her with something that smelled sweet.

When they were done she felt like a different person. She felt clean. Comfortable. Alive.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on her feelings of finally leaving the room before Nuala and Cerridwen pulled her up and escorted her down the maze of hallways.

“Just two doors down, you’ll find the dining room,” Cerridwen pointed down the hall with a small smile. Cassandra wanted to ask why they weren’t also joining but when she turned to face them they were just gone as if they disappeared into thin air.

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Walking into the dining room was a weird feeling. Cassandra didn’t feel like she belonged there. In the fancy room, with a huge table filled with foods…foods she had never seen before. The four people she had met three days ago—and another she hadn’t met, all sat around the table talking in hushed whispers.

Azriel was the first to look over. His eyes met hers and offered her a small smile. “Cassandra,” his deep voice greeted.

“I’m glad you decided to join us this evening, please come sit,” Rhysand said, standing and motioning to the empty seat next to him, where Azriel would be on her other side—Morrigan in front of her and Cassian next to her. The other female at the opposite end of the table from Rhysand.

Cassandra hesitated for only a moment before walking over and realizing that the chair was designed to accommodate wings. She wouldn’t have to sit at some weird angle to be comfortable. Her eyes meet Azriel’s, the gentle look on his face a comfort she needed. He stood from his spot, sliding the chair out and gesturing for her to sit.

She felt eyes on her as she scanned all of the food in front of her. She had never seen so much food.

“I trust everything went okay the last few days?” Rhysand asked as he took his own seat once again.

“I freaked out a little when Nuala was washing my hair…” Cassandra admitted, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“That’s okay, no need to be upset. You’ve been through a lot, it’s expected. Nuala and Cerridwen are understanding and won’t hold it against you. You have my word on that.”

She wanted to say thank you again but didn’t feel it was appropriate. She didn’t know what else to say so she nodded her head and looked towards that other female, freezing as she looked into glowing silver eyes. She had never seen anything so…beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

A snort to her side caught her attention and she looked at Rhysand.

“Sorry, I just heard that,” Rhysand said, Cassandra’s eyebrows pulled together before realization dawned on her. The comment about the other female… “Amren.” Rhys supply’s the name.

She looks back to the female, to those eyes that make her not want to look away.

“Hello, girl,” She greets, and it’s not a terrifying rumble, but a genuine greeting.

Cassandra offers a small smile, feeling a draw to the small female. No one else spoke so she reached for a plate but before her fingers could even graze it, it filled with food before her eyes. She blinked at it in shock, looking to Rhysand to see if he had done it.

There was a small smile on his lips as he shook his head.

“The house is enchanted, it does what it pleases. You wanted food so it filled your plate for you,” Azriel spoke, she looked over at him then back at the plate.

Oh, wow. She thought…the food had even been diced into smaller pieces as she had told Rhysand. Her eyes fell on the wine glass in front of her—she wouldn’t drink it, couldn’t, so she looked at Azriel again then around the room. Water. And just like that, a glass of water appeared in front of her.

Cassandra felt the corners of her mouth twitch up, eyes meeting Azriel’s again then Rhysands before she grabbed the glass of water.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

“It’s pretty awesome, right?” Cassian spoke, his long hair that had been pulled back earlier now fell to his shoulders.

Cassandra nodded in answer, sitting her glass back on the table. Rhys took his seat, grabbing his wine glass, silently observing the female as she reached for her fork.

“I’ve never had this much food before…”

Rhys isn’t surprised but he’s not expecting the words and they make his heart hurt.

“Eat as much as you’d like,” Rhys says warmly, watching as she scoops up some warm potatoes and brings them to her lips.

“Mm” she hums, eyes closing. “That’s so good!” Rhys doesn’t answer, he can tell she’s not speaking to him consciously, she’s just thinking, not a single mental shield to protect her fragile mind.

It’s the next bite that wipes the small mine from all the faces. No longer an exploratory bite but a ravenous one. One after another, eating quickly and without restraint. Eating in a way that meant she had been starving, had never had an adequate food supply, had never been allowed to eat more than what was given.

She didn’t speak and neither did they. None of them would tell her to stop or slow down, all having been there at some point in their lives. They had all known that hunger at one point or another. So they let her eat. And drink. And eat some more.

Potatoes. Greens. Fruit. Meat. Bread. A plate appeared next to her holding a slice of cake and she ate that too—she had never had cake before but no one else at the table knew that.

It’s only when her plate is empty that anyone speaks up. It’s Cassian that asks, “How do you feel you’re settling in?” It’s an attempt to bring about a conversation without making her uncomfortable.

Cassandra takes a slow sip of water, breathing deeply as she does before looking at Rhysand who nods in confirmation that he’ll give her answer.

“Honestly…I feel more comfortable here than I have ever felt anywhere else.”

“That’s wonderful! We want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Morrigan chimes in, excited as if she’d been waiting to talk to Cassandra for the past three days. “When we didn’t see you for three days we were worried—well I was. The boys wanted to give you some space.”

“I didn’t know what was expected of me,” she says, Rhysand repeats her and she’s met with confused frowns. “That’s why I stayed away, didn’t eat much. I didn’t know if anything would be…expected of me in return if I did.”

“You have no debt to us, Cassandra. Nothing is expected of you,” Rhysand speaks, his voice firm but gentle. “If you wish to come to dinner you eat your fill until you’re satisfied. If you need clothes you wear what you like and it’s yours to keep. Nothing will ever be taken or held against you as punishment of any kind.”

Cassandra blinks at him, feels the wetness in her eyes as she nods. There’s just one nagging question in her mind, one she needs an answer to before she gets too comfortable.

“Why am I here then?” She asks, setting her fork down on a freshly filled plate, half as full as before.

Rhysand lets out a sigh before telling the others what she’d asked.

“You are here because I received word from one of Azriel’s spies—I’ll give you a more in depth explanation on what that means at another time—that pleasure houses in my court were buying and selling females against their will,” Rhysand begins to explain. “See we have many pleasure houses in Velaris but it has always been law that consent is the main requirement for anyone involved. Those who work or visit have to be there because they want to be there.”

“So, when we got word this law had been broken, Rhys sent us out to patrol the pleasure houses,” Azriel said, drawing her attention to him, “he needed solid proof of the law being broken before he could step in. Cassian and I, we saw you there. Scared. Frightened. Clearly not there of your own free will and didn’t feel it was safe for you to stay there.”

Cassandra looked at him, taking in the shadows swirling around him. His kind hazel eyes, the blue siphons glowing on his scarred hands. Remembered how when her eyes first landed on him on the other side of those bars she had been absolutely terrified of him.

“What about the…Mistress?” She asked turning away from Azriel to look at Rhysand.

“You no longer have to call her mistress, her name is Kamari. She is still here in our cells, she’s not been harmed. We are working to gather some intel from her. Who her bosses are, where they are buying the females and any other information we can get from her. She’s been cooperative in giving us the information we need to stop this from happening to any other females,” Rhysand said, eying the female in front of him before looking to his second in command.

“Do you have any information that may help us, girl? Anything we could use against that female to get more information?” Amren asks, fixing her smoky eyes on the female.

Cassandra was quiet for a moment, thinking. Trying to piece together everything she could remember. She looks up and nods her head. Everyone seemed to sit a little straighter, their full attention on her alone.

“My father is the one who sold me to a male named Vale. Blue skin, a long deep scar across his face, black eyes…mean and very strong—”

Rhysand hold his hand up, relaying the information to Azriel and you watch curiously as one of his shadows darts away and out of a window.

“Cassandra, do you mind if I open up a channel for everyone to hear what you say to me? It will help us find these people,” Rhysand asks, she doesn’t need to think before she nodded. She wanted to help in any way she could. Help any girls going through what she did and stopping more from going through it.

“Please, continue,” Rhysand encouraged.

“The male, Vale, had bought other females. He kept me me in a dark room under his home with three other females. He—he raped one of the girls many time but not me or the other two girls. He said he would get more money for us if we stayed…untouched.” Cassandra’s stomach rolled at the memories. Nauseated, remembering the cries of that poor girl every time that man came down stairs and hurt her. She could see the anger in the eyes that surrounded her, could practically feel it radiating from them. Their fists and jaws clenched tightly, wings rigid and shoulders taunt. But she continued.

“I stayed there for a few months before he took me to that…pleasure house? I’m not sure what happened to the other girls. I think he may have kept the one he raped.”

“Do you know their names?” Cassian asks and she’s nods. How could she ever forget them?

“Seera, Juno and Neema. I believe Seera and Juno were sister but I’m not completely sure. We tried not to talk too much because it made the male very angry,” She took a deep breath, trying not to remember the time he had nearly crushed her throat for merely asking to use the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to her she had sent that mental image to them who were seething with anger at what this poor girl had gone through.

“Once I was at that place I was introduced to Miss—I was introduced to Kamari,” She continued, needing to get away from the memories of that male. “She was in charge of my training. She stripped me naked, told me I would never own a pair of clothes again. That I was to be naked and ready for any male to take me whenever they pleased. I was to learn things that would…please these males. Anytime I refused I was beaten. So, for months I watched other females pleasure males in many ways. But only watched. They said—she said I would be sold for a lot of money for being untouched. That whoever paid the most could do whatever they wanted to me. When I saw the two of you I thought—” She swallowed thickly eyes shooting between Azriel and Cassian. “I though you were going to—”

Her voice cracks and she looks away. Morrigan pushes out of her chair, walking around the table. “Can I hug you?” She asks.

All Cassandra can do is nod letting Morrigan wrap strong arms around her. Hugging her tightly. Holding her in a way that reminded her of her mother before she died. After a moment Morrigan pulls away offering a napkin to wipe her eyes.

“Cassandra, dear, we can be done for today if it’s too much to continue,” Rhysand offers gently.

She nods gently, feeling as if maybe she wasn’t much help at all. The rest of dinner is spent in silence, Cassandra hunched into herself while the other four fae think about killing everyone who hurt this innocent girl and many more.

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It’s later that evening when Cassandra slips from her room. The stone floor is cold under her feet and the satin nightgown doesn’t do much to keep the cold from her skin so she tucks her wings around her body.

She makes her way to the roof of the house, a training area the twins had told her was up here—they had also told her it was the best place to view the stars.

It’s a breathtaking sight. The wind whips her hair around as she walks to the edge. The lively city sparkling below while the endless sky shines above. Beautiful. She sighs gazing at the sight of the silver moon and tapestry of stars.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here at this time,” Cassandra spins around, sighing in relief when she spotted Azriel, she hadn’t heard him come out at all.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I always loved looking at the stars,” She said, grateful Rhys had made it to where she could communicate—at least with the few people here.

Azriel gives her a lopsided smile that makes her heart stutter. “No need to apologize, that's why I’m out here too. The night sky has always been…soothing.”

She turns back to the ledge as he walks closer.

“You know, my father he was ashamed to have children with wings,” Cassandra said, as Azriel watched her from the side, her white hair shining in the moonlight—those green eyes glowing again. “He kept us locked away, and didn't want anyone to see us. My mother had her wings taken when she was a teenager. She said normally they just clipped them but her father was especially cruel and completely took hers away. Well, when my father was drunk enough or didn’t come home some evening my mother would bring us out and let us look at the stars, she taught us the constellations. And I got to see Starfall with her only one time before she died. It was…the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. After she died I never saw the stars again—not until the night you and Cassian took me away from that horrible place.”

Azriel did his best to simmer his anger, to clutch his shadows tightly that so badly wanted to reach out and comfort the female—to wipe away the glistening tears on her cheeks. She looks over at him then and he looks up at the sky so as not to reach out for her.

“Your mother seems like a lovely woman,” He says, hoping the opportunity to talk about her mother may make her feel better.

The smile that came over her face wasn’t what he was expecting. The way it lit up her face had his shadows singing in his ear. Beautiful. She’s beautiful.

She wiped her cheeks with one hand and nodded.

“She was amazing. She tried to protect us from him but she was just as afraid of him as we were. She didn’t know how to get out. But she took care of us. She was still young when she died—he says she died from taking some kind of herbs, that she took her own life. But I—I always believed he did it.” Azriel took in a shuttery breath.

“I’m sorry,” He said, struggling to find the words to comfort her.

“Me, too. I wish I could have protected her the way she protected me. But now she’s up there with the stars looking over us. Watching me, I think she would be happy I got out. I just hope I can help protect someone else the way I should have protected her.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away from the ledge. “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Azriel.”

Azriel watched her walk away. Night gown blowing in the wind, the beautiful broken girl disappearing into the shadows.

tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94

[infiniteglitterfall]

I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly

I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)

From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:

Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.

Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hamm’s League, informed a cheering crowd that “the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.” Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.

One of the league’s speakers called for retribution against “the Jews” for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. “Is it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?” he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speaker’s platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hamm’s speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.

MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that “as a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.” Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, “is only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.”

The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood — violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.

The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.

And an important addendum:

I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.

Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.

I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.

Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.

Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.

[whump-galaxy]

“Promise me you’ll bring them home safe! Promise me!”

“You know I can’t promise you that.”

“…Then lie to me.”

“I promise I’ll protect them no matter what.”