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vinceaddams · 7 months

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Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.

Thanks!

It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!

I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)

Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.) You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.

Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.

Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.

I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.

Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.

Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)

I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.

For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!

Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.

I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.

I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.

I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread. I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)

Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.

Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.

The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.

You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.

Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)

Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.

For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.

And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.

Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.

Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.

To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.

In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.

Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!

If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.

(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)

Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.

Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!

Edit: Video finished!

youtube

And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.

#ask #buttonholes #sewing #hand sewing #sewing tutorial #I've been procrastinating on the video this week #I want it done! I don't want to work on it I want new projects! I want to cut out more gloves!#currently forcing myself to do the last few buttonholes on these pants and then maybe I can cut out new gloves? as a treat?#but I hope I get some filming done tomorrow too

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hellsresidentfallenangel · 2 months

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Familiar Faces

Summary: How would Adam and Lute react to seeing a Fallen Angel back in Heaven?

A/N: I know we technically already saw this when Charlie and Vaggie came up to Heaven but this time I want to do it with someone who may have meant a bit more to the both of them.

When Charlie first told you she wanted you to come to Heaven with her you outright laughed in her face. You, a known Fallen Angel, go to Heaven? The idea was just as laughable as it was dumb.

Then Charlie actually took you to Heaven. In the few seconds you thought it was wise to laugh at Vaggie's dismay of being pushed into the weird swirly portal, a tight hand had wrapped itself around your upper arm. With a harsh tug, you were suffering the same fate as Vaggie.

Just like you had many years ago, you were faced with the bright colours of Heaven.

Fortunately, you weren't left alone with Charlie and Vaggie for long as two of the Seraphims came to join you, leading you around Heaven. Of course, in these moments Charlie could hardly contain herself, ready to rush off to explore or point out something that you and Vaggie had seen countless times.

All in all, it was rather peaceful being back in Heaven. Seeing some of the old buildings or community areas that you had spent so many years in was almost refreshing; given the harsh contrast that Hell was compared to all this. You didn't outwardly express any of this though. Keeping your arms crossed or firmly placed on your hips.

But with Heaven's dwindled population, it wasn't hard to run into people you knew. So when the familiar colour pallet of gold, white, grey and black showed up in the corner of your vision, you couldn't help but try and nestle your way in between Charlie and Vaggie to try and slip past their vision.

Alas, your efforts were for nothing.

With a booming voice, Adam yelled to get your attention as well as everyone around you. What you would've done to be in Vaggie's place and simply ignored with nothing but else but a shifty side glance.

"If it isn't my favourite ex-angel!"

Even though all the attention was on you, you couldn't help but try and slip away from the limelight. With a quick hand though, you were pulled into Adam's side in a tight sidehug.

It would only be when you're tightly tapped at Adam's side, his nails digging into your arm while Lute flocked to your other side, staring over at you with a carefully blank expression that Adam would hiss into your ear. "Who let you back in here?"

"Wait, you two know each other?" Charlie would exclaim, her eyes widening slightly with a glimmer of hope residing in them as a plan to get Adam and Lute on the Hazbin Hotel's side came to mind.

It was only when she noticed your deadpan stare, the way Adam's hand may have been gripped a little too tightly around your arm and how Lute seemed to be itching to get closer that perhaps she might have misjudged the relationship you had with the two prior to your fall.

Sera would have to cast Adam a raised brow for the guy to release you, no amount of struggling or shoving on your part goading him to release you.

That wouldn't be the end of it though. Like any good 'friends' seeing someone who had been cast out of Heaven in favour of rotting in Hell, Adam and Lute decide that there is no better way to spend their afternoon other than to follow you, Vaggie and the Princess of Hell around as you attend to business.

On numerous occasions, Adam would try to tug you in one direction or the other, prepared to run off with you whenever everyone's back was either turned on you or was preoccupied with something for the moment.

Each time ended in small little scruffles as you tried to push yourself away from Adam, not above trying to fight the First Man on Holy ground even if it meant being shot out of the sky again.

If he wasn't trying to steal you away from the group, Adam was making loud jokes, sometimes making you the butt of the joke while other times it was someone else. Normally it would be Vaggie but it was more likely you who he was laughing at. Recapping your graceful fall from Heaven or any other blunders he could think of.

Lute wasn't much better on her part.

Unlike Adam, whenever one of the Seraphins looked back to check on what was happening or Charalie and Vaggie got ready to jump in, she would be stood patiently waiting for the tour to continue once Adam's antics were dealt with.

—Except that one time she was caught cheering Adam on as he tried smoothing your head into the ground.

It didn’t even matter if the Seraphins or your friends were looking, Lute decided to make your trip to Heaven just as bad as you’d thought it would be by walking too close for comfort, making comments about previous exterminations that you had taken part in, trying to reminisce on activities you had taken up when in Heaven to try and kill boredom.

That was something that Hell was surprisingly better than Heaven at. There was never a dull day. Even if there was it would only take you a short commute from your hotel room to find either Angel Dust or Alastor for your boredom to be banished, the both of them entertaining enough in their own ways.

By the end of the little tour Heaven was providing Charlie, you were prepared to scream.

Vaggie did nothing but spare you a pitiful glance. At some point further down the line than you, she had been in the same boat, though now she was just glad it wasn’t her that had to deal with the antics of Adam and Lute.

So putting on a brace face, you reminded yourself it was only for the day, maybe only a few more hours. Before you knew it you would be back at the hotel and hiding away in your room, reading to stay there for the rest of the day and only crawl out when an essential was needed.

When that time finally came you pushed past any of the sinners who tried to greet you with a flash of your middle finger as you vanished from their sights, all of them turning to Charlie and Vaggie to find out what had happened.

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bishopsbeloved · 1 month

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bad idea!

kate bishop x fem reader

No matter how much of a bad idea it may seem to go back to Kate Bishop, you can’t help it. You’re like a moth to a flame

inspired by a girl in red song, mentions of sex but no actual smut, fwb/ex gf kate, dumb lesbians, kind of just a drabble icl, 1.1k words

NOTE: my requests are open!!!!! send me anything you’d like!!!!!! i can’t guarantee i’ll get it done but you’re welcome to send things in🫶

It was such a bad idea to get involved with Kate Bishop again.

It’s so stupid that this even happened. Every fucking time things end between you you’re resolute in your position, you’re determined that this will truly be the end, but Kate Bishop has this way of drawing people back in. You’ve fallen victim to her strange unspeakable allure more times than you can count. That’s how you ended up here in the first place.

Yes, okay, fine, she’s good at sex. When she sends a you up? text you can’t help the way your heart beats a little faster at the thought of the chase resuming between the two of you, of cat and mouse returning to flirtatious antics with one inevitable end. No matter how many times you try to escape it, you and Kate Bishop always seem to find your way back to one another, only to sourly part again and leave you even more lost than you were before. You don’t know what to do. You can’t fucking stand her. You can’t get away from her. You’re not sure you want to.

Nobody else has ever touched you in the way she does, or as well as she can. No matter how much you pretend otherwise she is the one you crave; she’s the one on your mind whilst the hands of others roam your body. You have this deep, innate, carnal need for her — for everything about her — not just her fingers and her tongue and her strap but also her whiny raspy voice first thing in the morning (she, annoyingly adorably, hates mornings) and the sloppy neck kisses she delivers to say goodnight and the kind of sheepish shifty look whenever she brings you a token of her love. The latter doesn’t happen much anymore, not since the two of you broke up — since she dumped you — which on paper ought to mean the two of you no longer see each other. And yet more nights than not one of you has crawled back to and somehow ended up in the other’s bed. It seems you’re both full of bad ideas, and yet neither of you can get enough.

When you wake up in her room again, the purple wallpaper adorned with medals and trophies and Hawkeye posters all too familiar by this point, that feeling of heaviness settles in your stomach. For fuck’s sake. You’re always disappointed in yourself, the morning after. There’s a reason the two of you aren’t together anymore — so why do you keep waking up in each other’s beds?

You look down at where Kate Bishop is nestled against your chest, still bare-skinned against you after last night’s activities. It’s irritating how beautiful she is even when she’s asleep. She looks so lovely in your arms you can almost imagine that being your reality again, until you harshly remind yourself Kate doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want you like that, she broke up with you and the only reason she sees you anymore is for sex. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes your stomach turn, and suddenly you want nothing more than to be away from her.

Crawling out of Kate’s bed when she’s wrapped herself around you like this is never easy. Perhaps in unconsciousness, in her most vulnerable state, she’s more reluctant to let you go. Sometimes you feel a little guilty leaving before she wakes so often, but you have to, for your own good — for the good of both of you. When you’re not fucking you don’t really know what to say to her. Hey, you were the love of my life, why’d you dump my ass? No thanks. She has these big blue puppy-dog eyes that just make you feel horrible about the whole thing, and everything you’ve ever done, ever. No, you’re better off leaving now.

“You’re leaving,” says a small, scratchy voice from behind you, as you stumble about in the half-dark of the room locating your clothing. It’s a statement, not a question, but she still doesn’t sound entirely certain.

You don’t really know how to respond, you’re kind of wishing this wasn’t happening and rushing to find your other sock so you can get out of here, so you just let out a kind of low grunt of acknowledgement.

“You always leave,” Kate responds, and you don’t have to turn around to know that she’s pouting a little. You can hear it in her voice. The fact you can tell, that you know her well enough to tell only pisses you off even further, and you let out a kind of bitter laugh.

“It’s not like you fucking want me here.”

“That’s not true.” She pauses, and you hear the little noises she makes as she sits up and stretches. “I do want you here. I keep bringing you back, don’t I?”

“Yeah, cause a good fuck is all I’m worth to you,” you say angrily, before closing your eyes and tilting your head back. No. You can’t let her ass ruin your day when you have so much shit to do.

“No, that’s not true,” she tries, whilst at the same time you groan “I can’t do this, Kate.”

She sits up a little straighter, eyes wide, voice an octave higher. “W— what? Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do you.”

“But I— you keep— you keep coming back, though.”

This hits a nerve, and you laugh incredulously, finally turning around to face her. She’s looking up at you in the semi-darkness of the room, her face unreadable. “Yeah, and I shouldn’t. It’s fucking pathetic. I can’t get over my ex so I’ll sleep with her whenever she asks. It’s not— it’s— Kate, I can’t keep doing this.” You bury your head in your hands.

Vaguely, you hear the gentle rustle of fabric in Kate’s side of the room. You just need a moment to collect yourself and you’ll get the fuck out of here.

You hear her footsteps padding towards you, and you open your eyes again. She’s haphazardly tugged on a shirt and is stood before you, bare-legged, almost doleful in expression. “I’m sorry,” she says, barely a whisper. “This is all— I keep fucking up. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say tiredly.

“I— I don’t know. Everything. You.” She steps towards you uncertainly.

“Kate,” you say, and you’re not sure who moved first, but within moments her lips are on yours again. When she tugs you back towards the bed, you let her, your stomach churning with the indescribable sensation of simultaneous adoration and angst that her touch fills you with. She’s so pretty it actually physically hurts.

God, you’re totally fucked.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x fem reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld #kate bishop #bisexual kate bishop #lesbian kate bishop #gxg #god i love kate bishop #your honour she’s a woman kisser #marvel #hawkeye #yeah

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pooksgetspooked · 4 months

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Hierophilia pt2.

Summary: A devout priest of unshakable faith stumbles upon what could only be called his own slice of heaven. With no creature holier than you roaming the mortal realm, it serves to be beyond troubling when Leon finds himself quickly falling into the clutches of corruption by the mere presence of you. Pairing: Leon s. Kennedy x Angel!Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k

Content warnings: MDNI! Religion, Corruption, dub-con/non-con, possessive & obsessive undertones, definitely blasphemy

“Leon? You look awfully tired,” you hummed, peering down at him with worried eyes while you placed a gentle hand atop his head, caressing the mop of blonde, “is all well?”

Was all well? By all means, he should be, but he was anything but. You were ruining him. He was losing more of himself with each day around you.

Somehow, someway, you evoked all sorts of vile thoughts he would have once cringed at, but now made his dick twitch in his pants. He had never prayed more in his life than he has in the past week or so; and despite his lust driven devotion, the notion of God abandoning him was suddenly feeling all too real.

“I’m well, please don’t worry about me,” he sighed, voice gravelly and head hung low as he sat on the bed in his quarters with you standing above him. With what had transgressed, you quickly noticed Leon’s shifty behaviour, but not the cause of it.

For the better he thought, because he was certain if you could peek into his mind, you would take off like a skittish dove at first chance.

He didn’t deserve you, or the tender care you put into him. You had thought he was falling ill despite not sensing any ailment, but you made an effort to heal him.

You made soul food for him and brought it to his quarters for him to rest, tried to haggle with the ever growing mob of believers without him, you even tried to take over some of his duties so he would get more time to himself to rest.

He wanted to cry for all too many reasons. The internal conflict wagering between his relgion and beliefs; all thing he knew prior to you was at war against the very notion of having you.

But you were so kind, gentle and soft, like nothing he had ever known in his life. You showered him with a warmth he had never known in his life, and it felt like he would cripple if you were to ever leave him. He knew he shouldn’t feel any way like he did towards you, but he couldn’t help it.

“Are you sure? I’m growing worried about you, Leon. You’re more withdrawn, less enthusiastic to go talk with the other chapel people, you’re eating far less than you should. Please, is there nothing I can do for you?” You were almost begging him now, your voice making his chest ache.

He finally dared look up at you, his eyes dragging up your legs through the sheen nightgown, breath hitching when he found himself at eye level with your chest, before forcing himself to meet your gaze.

“I- no, we- there’s nothing, dove,” he tried to stop the saliva from pooling in his mouth, and from his crotch from bulging, but the damage you dealt on him was nothing he could stop. He couldn’t dampen his heavy breaths, or stop his gaze from trailing back down to stare at your nipples and how they peeked through the fabric, thin enough to see the pretty flushed shade.

Your eyes widened as you caught his words, back straightening in attention. That only had his boner at attention, because your chest nudged an inch closer to Leon’s face, his lips now close enough to hover over where your nipples were.

“You said we. There’s something we can do together to help you then!” You were so excited, the feathers of your wings ruffled and your halo seemed to glow just a little brighter. So naive and innocent, but he couldn’t. Not with you. Maybe he should just hook up with one of the chapel ladies he knew always eyed him during sunday masses and call it a day. Far less damaging to his guilty conscious, and he might still have a shot of maintianing his ticket to heaven.

He shook his head, lips parting as he leaned back just slightly. He needed to breathe. Had to pull himself out of proximity of your breast before he caved and did something he knew would be a point of no return. “No, no we can’t,” he breathed out, blinking hard as he scrambled to piece together the jumble of thoughts bouncing around in his head. “I mean there’s nothing. There’s nothing for us to do,” he corrected himself, cursing himself for the slip up as soon as he noticed the look of curiosity on your face.

When you were curious, you were relentless.

You whined softly as you leaned forward with him, staring down at him with sad, wide eyes and limp wings, “no, there is something and you’re keeping it from me. Please? I’ll do whatever it is, i’m okay with it!” So eager to please, Leon had to stop himself from groaning as his dick jumped beneath the cloth of his boxers. How could he resist when you made him feel like you looked up to him as your new God?

You were quickly closing the proximity between the two of you, your chest steadily approaching him as your leaned closer to him each time he leaned back, and Leon was growing dizzy as his eyes were steadfast on your chest.

He didn’t know how much more he could take before he relented. You were making it so needlessly difficult, how was he supposed to turn away from you.

It was when your hand slipped, no longer able to prop up your weight. Leon had always commented that you should eat a little more and exercise to put on some muscles on your twiggy arms. Now, Leon was a little more grateful for the bone of defiance in you.

Your chest planted into his face, your eyes growing wide as you hastily apologized and tried to pull away, “Leon! I’m so sorry, are you hurt-” any attempt to pull away was stumped by the slithering arms, toned and firm, coiling around your waist with hands creeping up your back to keep you in place.

Before you could say another word, the sensation of his tongue, warm and wet pressed flat against your nipple flooded out any previous thought. The sensation had your back arching, crotch nudging into his pelvis with hitched breath as your mind went hazy.

“Leon, wha?” You couldn’t help the pitched whine coaxed out of you when his lips wrapped around the pebbling nipple, tongue flicking and swirling around the hardened bud. Your legs were kicking, arms scrambling for purchase to try and pull away, but what use were limbs that had never worked a day in their life against someone who was well adept at labour? You were a snagged dove in the maws of a wolf. Helpless and very much fucked.

“Shh, calm down angel. You said you would help me, right?” Leon finally pulled away from your nipple with a pop, half lidded, dilated eyes staring up at your trembling form. He could feel you shaking above him, your wings fluttering with you as you panted from your struggle. Cute.

Leon didn’t give a shit anymore. He had to do something about this lust addled haze or he might actually combust and die. He can worry about any of the irreversable ramifications later, heaven be damned, because there’s no way heaven would grant him a pass to sleep with an angel as divine as you anyways.

“I- I did but this feels funny,” oh my god. You didn’t know the first thing about sex, or what it was did you. Leon almost laughed, because he knew he was actually going to hell now.

“Feels funny? Can you tell me how it feels funny?” He breathed against your nipple, admiring how it poked through the now see-through fabric as he gently tightened his hold around your waist, arms clenching like a vice.

“It- it feels like-” another whine, halfway a garbled moan as he gently bit down on your nipple, warm and wet appendage still toying at the teat, lavished with all his love and attention. “Go on,” he mumbled through suckles and kisses, “tell me how it feels. It feels nice, right?”

“No it- it feels weird, like hot and tight, Leon please,” tears gathered at the corner of your eyes as you fought to breathe through weak struggles and the growing sensation that made your head fuzzy.

Meanwhile Leon was watching you intently, blue eyes never straying, soaking in every fidget of your expression. He couldn’t help but coo at you, his dick throbbing at your confusion. Despite your words, he could feel the dampness on his pants, stained from your leaky core.

It was like your mind was only in control of your words and that was it. Every other bodily reaction was detached from your brain, and wholeheartedly honest in a manner entirely different from your words. Your body and your mind was at odds with each other, and it was stirring an odd sense of satisfaction within his chest.

Maybe it was getting to see you experience just a modicum of what he had been facing for the entirety of the last week and more. You were responsible for what could only be deemed as his downfall, it was only fair that you repent for it in some way. It was only fair for you to help Leon out in this little way that you could, just like you were so eager to before.

“Do you trust me angel?” He allowed you just a small reprieve. The last one you would ever get before he really allowed himself free of his inhibitions and commit a sin so devastating that God might have to come down and smite him himself.

He watched you eye him through teary eyes as one of his hands crept lower, skirting beneath the fabric and rubbing soothing circles into the plush flesh of your thigh. Plump lips curled into a soft pout as your thighs twitched against his hand, damp panties rubbing against him without even realizing.

“I do, but everything feels weird,” your eyes screwed shut, blinking back stray beads of tears that threatened to fall. Leon shushed you softly, his other hand crawling up your back to cradle the back of your head, before trailing across your cheek to wipe the tear away.

“It feels weird now, but I promise you it’ll feel really good later for the both of us. You wanted to help me right? My precious angel, always wanting to help everyone,” he gently tutted, discreetly brushing the tear collecting on his thumb against his lips to lick away while his gaze sharpened in on you, clinging onto every word you say and every expression you make.

You snivelled, shoulders hitching each time you did as your brows knitted in that adorable confusion Leon wasn’t used to seeing, but was quickly warming up to. You seemed so conflicted, as though you inherently knew something about this was amiss without even being taught, but Leon knew you by now. He had never seen you turn anyone away before, and he knew he would be no different.

“You promise it’ll feel good?” you hesitantly peered into his eyes, all shy and meek, Leon had to restrain himself from diving back into your tits once more.

“Oh angel, I promise.” He was going to have you seeing God again by the end of the night. Or maybe, he would have you chanting his name in place of God. That sounds far more fitting for the man who would break you down, and rebuild you into something grander.

He started off slow, wanting to ease you into deep waters. His lips found their place back onto your tit as his hands rubbed soothing circles into the soft flesh of your skin before his hand on your thigh drifted. Agonizingly slow, he kept his arm around you tight when you flinched at the initial contact with your drooly cunt through the damp fabric of your panties.

Finger rubbing along the slit, outlining your puffy pussy, paying special attention to your little clit, it wasn’t long before he had you babbling and coming undone for him. You were so easy to make a mess off with how your slick would drip down the expanse of your inner thigh. By the time he had shifted your panties out of the way, your cunt was a creamy, sticky mess.

Of course, Leon had to get a taste. He lowered himself till he was eye level to your crying slit, and said his grace for the feast splayed out before him.

“Lord God and giver of all good gifts, we are grateful as we pause before this meal, for all the blessings of life that you give to us. We ask this through Christ Jesus, Amen. Lord, as we gather here before this table, we pause to give thanks for the bounty of the earth from which this meal came forth.”

Leon had you seeing stars by the time you unraveled the second and third time on his tongue. He ate like it was his last meal on death row; a starving man who didn’t know when his next meal would be. The way your cunt squealched and cried made Leon’s dick cry all the same.

Wet llps trailed gentle kisses up your thighs, occasionally nipping at the flesh and sucking bruising hickies while his rough thumbpad rubbed at your clit. He planted his first kiss on the bud between your legs, before licking a fat stripe up your slit, collecting the slippery liquid on his tongue. He switched between suckling on your pulsating button and making out with it, pussy kissing his lips with nearly as much enthusiasm as he was putting out. His lips sealed around your cunt, slobbering into the honeyed cavern, nose bumping into your clit in a dual pleasure that was driving you dumb.

The rapidly approaching tipping point was nearly pushed over the edge. Leon moaned and hummed into your cunt, and the effects were devastating. You could feel his moan in your womb, tickling the empty organ in a way that had your cunt spasming, coiling heat growing to be searing while your thighs ached from the tension of another cresting orgasm.

He rutted against the sheets in a bid to chase his own release while eating you out, but his rapt attention remained fixated on you. He eventually dared to slip a finger in, curling in a way that had you gasping for air. With each moan and cry that got louder, Leon’s strokes grew wilder until you were spasming and clenching down on his finger and tongue, granting him a taste of the sweet cream he had prayed for.

He was serious about your prior reprieve being your last, because you didn’t catch a break for the next hour or so. After his feast that had you crying and squirming, he had you splayed on your back atop of him, your bare back flushed against the skin of his chest so that he could squeeze two fingers into your cunt, his other free hand caressing your jaw while two more fingers played with the soft little tongue past your lips.

“Leon, please, I can’t take anymore,” your words were barely coherent, but there was no need for words when you were weeping now, nearly as much as your core was. So overstimulated and sore, you didn’t know how much more you could take.

Your thighs trembled and spasmed, wings twitching while your core clenched on his fingers, pruned thumbpads driving you wild with the rough texture rubbing against your abused clit.

Leon did what he did best. Shushed you gently, drowning your words with his own lips as his fingers curled up, far enough to make your brain flicker and scramble any plea on the tip of your tongue.

“But you’re doing so, so well for me dove, and I know it feels good for you. You can feel how much your pussy is crying in joy, can't you? Just like how you are.” To drive his point home, he pushed his fingers deeper, adam's apple bobbing at how your cunt squelched in response, the ring of cream rising closer to his knuckle.

“Just give me another one, okay? Last one, and we can cuddle and rest together.”

Leon was either a dirty liar, or he flunked his math, because the next wasn’t the last. Neither was the one after that, or the one after that. It was only when you were babbling stupidly and cross eyed did he find it in his heart to give you your second hard-earned break.

“Oh angel,” he sighed down at you with dreamy eyes, his fingers slipping out of you.

For the first time in awhile, he pulls his gaze away from your face to watch the glisten of your slick coating his fingers, before curling his tongue around his digits and cleaning them until he could no longer taste you on him. “You need a break?”

You were a limp mess, your mind lagging behind on his words before it finally caught up. You could only muster a drunken whimper, brain still fried from the mind melting pleasure Leon had forced upon you ceaselessly for the past who knows how long. Spread out on the bed, sweaty and weak, a sight for sore eyes. For leon’s eyes.

He hummed softly, familiar tune of a hymn that you could barely connect as he leaned down to press his lips against yours, tongue darting past your lips while his arms caged you in. Only when you started flailing and whimpering from the lack of air did he pull away with flushed face.

“Rest up darling, I just need a little bit more of your help, and I’ll be happy again.”

He made a silent vow to himself, hushed mumble beneath his breath too soft to catch. Leon s Kennedy was going to make sure he was all you would ever know and worship once he was done with you.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #got lazy

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arguablysomaya · 4 months

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please, elaborate on merlin bbc propaganda and stuff

okay basically:

bbc merlin is a show taking place during a genocide

camelot for 20 years has been genociding and ethnically cleansing everyone who can use magic, including magical creatures. They were all either exiled, fled, live in refugee camps or in hiding, and a great many were executed and slaughtered. Generally speaking, life is inhospitable in camelot for magic users.

And the show makes no attempt to hide this fact, either. We see multiple times over the death and destruction this genocide has wraught, and how radicalized most of the remaining magic population is because of it. For the past few decades, camelot has essentially been doing 2 things: persecuting magic users, and defending itself from vengeful/liberationist magic users

the king (uther) believes that magic users are (stop me if you've heard this one) corruptive, shifty, and evil. he's always paranoid that a magic user will take their revenge on him. and in a way, he's right: there are in fact a lot of magic users eager to kill him, but given the whole Great Purge and literally drowning children thing, you'd thing the show would be a bit more sympathetic to their plight. Nope.

in come merlin and gaius, our two main magic users. merlin is the protagonist, and gaius his benevolent mentor, so the audience is primed to be on their side. only one problem: from bascially the beginning of the series, these two are nothing more than agents for the very state carrying out the genocide. they devote their time to wholeheartedly defending camelot, especially from magic users, something they are rightfully called traitors for. they actively intervene to prolong the lives (and therefore regimes) of both arthur and uther, despite neither king showing any real interest in freeing their people. gauis represents the "diversity" of a genocidaire state; as someone uther only keeps around so long as he shuns any involvement with magic except what helps uther carry put his genocide, gaius hides and rejects every marginalized part of himself that threatens his access to power. even as a member of the oppressed class, he aids and abets the oppressors every step of the way. merlin, as an extremely powerful agic user in hiding, follows suit. the thing is, like so many other minority collaborators, this doesn't actually buy them safety, since they are Other, they still have to walk around on eggshells knowing one wrong move could get their heads chopped off. but this action of defending a regime that would kill you without a second's hesitation is presented as noble and heroic in the show, when in reality it's stupid at best and evil at worst. merlin and gaius might save a token kid from being brutally murdered, but they will never let anyone take action, let alone take action themselves, to proactively stop the brutality.

merlin is literally the most powerful sorcerer alive. if he wanted to, he could create a more fair, more just, better world in a blink. instead, he spends his time pretending to be a hapless servent, messing around with his war criminal friends, and killing any freedom fighter who dares to even look at the prince or king. why? well, he believes in the institutions (and a prophecy that never comes true... lol). ultimately, merlin and gauis hold the same prejudices and stereotypes about magic users that uther does: that they're untrustworthy, dangerous, and that it would be better for everyone if all but themselves (the good ones) just died or left.

and all the people they're defending the empire against... are other oppressed magic users. the VAST majority of antagonists are either magicians or magic sympathizers. even in the context of a genocide, the show takes the firm stance that the architects of genocide (the literal kings who order it to happen) are just flawed human beings who still don't deserve to be killed, while when the people they seek to wipe out fight back, our protagonists will happily mow them down. the show has no problem with killing people,and even killing innocents is only worthy of a fingerwag. it's fighting for liberation that the show makes the real problem. even when uther finally dies the show plays it like something sad, as if anyone is supposed to feel anything but joy that this old tyrant genocidaire finally kicked the bucket after having been saved a million times over from getting his comeuppance. Every magic user that has genuinely good reasons to want to tear down the kingdom are all painted with the "crazy evil person" brush.

another thing is that this show likes to get ~quirky~ with their agents of the state. along with arthur and merlin come a colorful cast of characters like the knights that you can laugh and cry with. the only problem is that despite how lovable these people are, they're still actively carrying out and enforcing a genocide. it's a bit like those tiktoks of IDF soldiers dancing or proposing. i can't feel for these people because despite seeming like relatable people, they're still engaging in something horrific. you can't escape the fact that these people can only exist in the relatively easy capacity that they do because the empire they work for is brutally repressing and eliminating entire cultures.

but the thing is, this strategy actually works. the fandom is often so taken in by fun character interactions and shipping moments that you can often witness people literally look past, or even praise their acts of genocide. these characters are so charming with each other that you can look past how awfully they treat oppressed people. yay! the prevalence of merthur brings up too many idf pinkwashing parallels it's actually insufferable. i had hoped we left oppressor/oppressed person ships behind in the 2010s but guess it's still around

by the time he takes over as king, the "great, kind" arthur is essentially an IDF soldier who only realized that Killing Is Bad Actually when he's got crosshairs on a random kid. now Reformed (TM), he takes the brave stance that he should only kill the angry bad magic users who try to exact their revenge for the whole genocide thing on him, and the peaceful (more often than not, harmless) magic users should accept the merciful counterplan of ethnically cleansing themselves from the region, or continuing to live in refugee camps, but this time with less threat of massacre. in this show, the only acceptable answer to being genocided is to either lay down and die, hide forever, or displace yourself hoping the empire doesn't come and kill you anyway. fighting back, getting revenge, defending oneself, trying to change things: these are all reserved only for the genocidal state.

in other words, bbc merlin is the exact type of genocide obfuscation that most modern genocides engage in. the suffering of oppressed peoples, even innocents, is a footnote. when they suffer, sometimes it's presented as sad, and other times it's presented as deserved. meanwhile, the suffering of the oppressors, no matter how justifyable, is always landmark and deserves our full attention and sympathies, because the thing about the oppressors is that it's always their story.

(the last thing is a common fantasy problem, which is that when you create stories where different classes have actual, material, biological distinctions, it can end up justifying the oppression. in the real world, there is a very limited range of innate human abilities, and people from across the world are largely evenly matched. but in merlin, a sorcerer actually does pose an increased threat to those around them. in terms of allegory... kinda not the best thing to so without any real refutation to the idea that magic corrupts)

so yeah. that's why i don't fuck with this show even though it's enjoyable to watch.

#shut up somaya #bbc merlin #adventures of merlin #bbc arthur #bbc gaius #anti arthur #anti merlin #anti merthur #merlin crit #merlin critical #arthur crit #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon

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webslingingslasher · 2 years

Text

Heartbreak Girl

TASM!Peter x reader

Genre: sad, fluffy fluff fluff.

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Reader breaks up with her boyfriend and Peter is her best friend. Peter is finally able to admit how he feels.

I wrote this for my friend who just went through this and is hurting a lot right now. She needed a little Peter TLC and I delivered. @bigbysstones I hope this helps a little on easing the pain in your heart. You're allowed to be sad, the pain won't last forever and take time to love yourself.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on?”

Peter's words were soft, his hands coming up to grab your shoulders to get a good look at your face. Tears were running down your face, face flushed and breaths hard to control. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so upset, yeah you’ve cried in front of him. He’s your best friend, and it’s always been from a sad video when a dog dies and they give it the best last day, or when a soldier returns from war and surprises their kid.

He remembers you coming over one night similar to this, just upset and crying and trembling breaths. Your second grade teacher had died, which even you admitted to him was silly but you had loved her, she made school a second home and interesting. When you didn’t have time for breakfast or forgot lunch she always kept snacks at school. When your mom didn’t do your hair one morning she was there to fix it up for picture day. She was a mom away from mom.

And when she died the only thought was Peter could fix this, not your boyfriend.

Peter had calmed you down, he held you and shushed you while he ran a hand down your back. He had talked to you about it, he asked you to tell him your favorite stories about her to relive the better parts of your memories from her and not the most recent one of her death. It worked too, slowly the tears stopped and your breaths evened and you gave him the biggest hug imaginable because he always helped your racing mind to stop and take a break.

But tonight you had to go to Peter because there was no boyfriend to fix this.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head no, words weren’t even on the radar. The only thoughts circling your brain were breathing and having no boyfriend anymore. You couldn’t believe it, it had been a year. He was so good, he cared and he loved harder than you could’ve thought possible. Not anymore.

Peter couldn’t stand looking at you anymore. You were shaking and stuttering on sobs, he pulled you into a hug finally. His arms holding you securly, he wasn’t sure what hurt you but as long as you were here it wouldn’t hurt you again.

His hands were warm, his palms were burning into your back each time he passed your shoulder blades. His thick hands were melting you into him, at a point you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, you were whole with each other.

And you weren’t sure if you were ever whole with him.

“I broke up with him.” Your words were uneven, they wavered and cracked. The admission made it all too real.

Peter’s hands came to a stop. He never really liked him, he wasn’t a bad guy at all. Peter could tell he did care for you, but not in the way Peter could. And he did love you, but not in the way Peter did. There were times he did things that you complained about that Peter would tell himself ‘I wouldn’t do that’.

He had seen you cry too many times, upset too many times, sad and uncomfortable and push over too many times. He loved you too much to see you go through that, especially because he knew better people were out there for you. Even if the other people he thought of were himself.

“With who? Him?” He knew it was a dumb question but he couldn’t believe you actually did it. You told him last week how shifty he got out of nowhere and started to distance himself but you weren’t on the breakup train so he’s not sure how you got to the station.

“No, my other boyfriend.” Peter rolled his lips in his mouth when he heard your tone. You snapped at him, like you were angry he was speaking to you right now. Instead of instigating he continued to hold you to him as you cried, you would calm down eventually and he would get the story but right now all you needed was for him to be there.

“I’m your other boyfriend. Did you dump me?” He spoke the words in your hairline, his mouth pressing a kiss to the spot. Your breathing settled and you pulled back from him, you looked at his shirt and felt embarrassed at the tear stains.

“I’ll loosen the wheels on your skateboard and you’ll fall and I’ll laugh.” You threatened. Peter’s smile broke across his face, “If I make you laugh it doesn’t matter how broken or hurt I am.” His words were supposed to make you feel better but you felt worse, your boyfriend- your ex boyfriend made it his job to make you laugh. When did he quit?

Then, the anger took over. You were so sad but now it feels dumb, he had changed out of nowhere. You can plan for a change in time or weather but you had never planned on him changing his mind. He went from the caring, sweet charming boy you were proud to call your own into someone you didn’t recognize or want to see anymore.

Even looking back now you weren't sure when he changed, it was almost like he was quiet quitting. It first started with Ted, Ted was his best friend and yours by association. So when Ted started talking about the football game they went to you hit your boyfriend with the side eye, because he said he had plans with his dad that day. In fact he canceled on you to help out his dad, and if he said he had plans with Ted for a football game you wouldn't have cared, but the fact he lied about it sent alarms off.

Was that the first time he did it or the first time you caught on?

Because when Ted said the words your boyfriend hit him with a sharp look that even had him tucking his head in his shell. Then when you brought it up it was a fight, and he never started fights. It went on and on and halfway through it had more to do with him yelling at you then it did with him trying to defend himself. You knew then it was coming to an end.

You balled your hands into fists and beat them on Peter’s chest. He told you once when you felt like punching someone to punch him, he could handle it. Peter stood still and watched you pound onto his chest, your breaths grew ragged and grunts were coming out of your mouth. You faltered and hit harder, punching Peter with more force than he could’ve imagined coming from you. You slowly stopped, your last punches rested on his chest and you broke into a sob.

You weren’t even upset at him anymore, you were upset with yourself. Why are you letting him get satisfaction? He didn’t even care. He didn’t even care. He didn’t even care. He didn’t even-

“He didn’t even care!”

You breathed quickly in and out your mouth. You pushed Peter away, you were telling him what you wished you said to him.

“He was so fucking mean! So god damn fucking mean and I dont know why!”

“He didn’t even care, Peter!”

You ran your hands through your hair, you felt how much of a mess it became and pulled at the roots.

“He didn’t fucking-” You stomped your foot, Peter winced but stayed silent. He was letting you express your bottled emotion.

“He pulled away from me! Like I wouldn’t notice. I gave him everything, Peter. He was my everything. I loved him, I loved him so much, Peter. Why didn’t he love me enough back?”

Your words dulled to a whisper, you looked down at the ground defeated and lost. Peter noticed you needed an answer, one he couldn’t give.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how he could do that. I really don’t know.”

You nodded at his words.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

“I wouldn’t have done that.” He looked towards you with lights in his eyes.

Your head raises to look at him.

“Wouldn’t have done what?” You were tiptoeing around the conversation.

Peter let out a nervous laugh, you put him on the spot. He didn’t like it.

“Anything he did.”

He shrugged and looked at you, he took a breath and continued.

“I would have answered you when you called. I would’ve drove down to Buxley’s to get you after Vanessa wrecked her car. I would’ve cried when Ryan Gosling died in The Notebook. I would’ve told you I was going to a football game. I would’ve let you come see my sister in her play with my family. I would’ve let you play whatever music you wanted in my car when I drove.”

“You don’t drive.”

You cut him off for the first time since his spiel. He frowned at you for interrupting, you held your hands up in a surrender and let him continue.

“I would’ve let you win at skeeball because I could tell you needed to win more than I did. I would’ve laughed at your jokes no matter what because I know you held it in all day to tell me. I would’ve done it right.” His words tapered at the end, he lost his steam. His confidence slowly disappearing, he didn’t even know why he said all that. It’s not like you were going to-

“Done what right?” You breathed out the words, you knew what he would’ve done right.

Peter smiled at you. It was just enough his lips curled up, his eyes looked almost sad. It wasn’t pity but it was full of emotion he wasn’t sure you could give back. It was vulnerability.

“Love you.”

He laughed a little, just enough to ease the tension of his words. His eyes swung towards the floor with his honest confession.

You laughed back.

“You already do, silly. You’re my best friend.”

Is that what he meant though?

He shook his head, he looked at you in the eyes. His next words were to you only.

“Not like a best friend. I could love you like you’ve never been before. I know because I already do.”

You stumbled a little. He said it, you knew that's what he meant but the confession made it much more real. You knew you loved him too, more than friends. It was always a will they, won't they with you two. But that’s how it’s always been, always on the cusp of dating or not. When you started dating… him, you missed Peter. You still hung out and talked but some things weren't the same. The hugs weren’t the same, you no longer sat on his lap on the bus. He stopped squeezing your hips from behind, he stopped loving you like you wanted him too.

“Peter.”

You weren’t sure how to say the next words.

“I get it. I really, really do. And I think I could love you in ways you haven’t been before either. But, I just ended things with someone and I don’t think I can do this with you right now. I don’t want to say no, I really don’t want to say no.”

You started to have tears forming in your eyes, you weren’t ready to love two loves in one day.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and approached you, his hands cupping your face.

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

He said it with no hesitation. You were his heart, and he loved you so fully that nothing would keep him from you. Time, seasons, boyfriends or tears.

“You’ll wait for me?”

You placed your hands on his. You sniffed and he brought his forehead to yours, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He whispered his words, they were for you and him only. He would wait a hundred lifetimes to have one with you.

“Forever and ever.”

#tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker drabble #my writing

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mickittotheman · 2 days

Note

49 …out of necessity for the prompt game if you are so inspired?! ❤️😍

I did one for this prompt here, but I was indeed feeling inspired so here's another!

49. ...out of necessity

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey drops the bowl in his hands to the table with a clatter. Clears the distance between the kitchen and his room in quick strides. “What? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

His gaze flits to Ian first. Still in the same position. Still curled up on his side, facing the wall, the sheets tugged up over his head. Mickey breaths out a long breath, not sure whether the feeling flooding him is relief or disappointment or both.

Carl blinks at him, wide eyed. “Nothing. Jeez. Just wanted to ask you something.”

Mickey sighs again. He snatches his brass knuckles out of Carl’s hand and shoves it back into the top drawer of his dresser. All his other weapons have been cleared out into a couple of cardboard boxes shoved deep inside the depths of Mandy’s closet. He’s not taking any chances. “Stop messing with my shit. You couldn't have fucking walked out there to ask me the question?”

Carl shrugs. “You said not to leave him alone.”

Right.

Mickey twists his lips. Looks at Ian again. Looks away.

“Fuck did you wanna ask me?”

Carl goes all shifty. Starts fiddling with the sheets. Looks, for a moment, like the little kid he is, not the wannabe tough guy he’s pretending to be. “Um. I know it's kinda stupid, but… Debbie used to watch those stupid fairytale movies, you know? The girly ones, with the princesses and castles and shit?”

“Okay,” Mickey drawls, eyebrows steadily creeping higher. He waves his hands around when Carl doesn’t continue. “You called me in here just to tell me that?”

“No– I,” Carl frowns. Shrinks in on himself. Looks impossibly younger. “It’s just. You said you’d be willing to try anything, right? To make him better?”

Mickey makes his best ‘duh’ expression.

“Well um. One time when we were little. And Monica was around. And she was like this. Debbie had this idea, that maybe Frank should try kissing her, because in her stupid movies they would always cure everything with true love's kiss or whatever. It didn’t work, but we thought maybe it’s just because the way Monica and Frank love each other is kinda fucked up, and maybe…”

Carl trails off, blushing furiously. He shoves himself to his feet before Mickey can even begin to wrap his mind around what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Nevermind. This is stupid. I’ve gotta go. Gotta meet someone in twenty.”

He brushes past Mickey on the way out of the room. Mickey stares after him, mouth open, brows furrowed incredulously. The front door slams shut.

What the fuck.

Mickey sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking Gallaghers, man,” he mutters.

On the bed, Ian doesn’t so much as twitch.

Mickey circles over to his side. Grabs the plate of toast off the nightstand– half eaten, better than yesterday– and brings it out into the kitchen. Eats the slightly stale toast. Finishes his bowl of cereal. Leaves the dishes there for someone else to deal with.

He grabs a gatorade from the fridge, grabs an extra quilt from the couch, brings them back with him into his dark, stuffy room. He pulls the curtains open. Cracks the window just a bit. It’s cold as fuck outside, but he’s been looking into shit, and fresh air is supposed to help. He circles back to Ian’s side again, sets the gatorade in reach, seal already twisted off to make it easier for Ian if he decides to drink some. He drapes the quilt over him, tucks the edges in tight, smooths a hand over the sheet covering Ian’s hair.

Mandy used to like fairytales, too. Mickey stole a copy of Sleeping Beauty from this girl in his class back in primary school. He read that fucking thing to her so many times he could practically recite it from memory alone.

Carl was right. This is fucking stupid.

But he was also right about Mickey being desperate enough to try anything.

He scowls. Rolls his eyes. Crouches down beside the bed. Leans in. Squeezes his eyes shut.

His breath hitches when their lips touch. Fuck, but he’s missed kissing Ian.

He misses being kissed by Ian even more.

He pulls back. Digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck.

When he lowers his hands, Ian is awake, staring back at him.

“Holy shit. Ian.”

Ian doesn’t respond with anything other than a slow blink, but he hasn’t talked in days now, and his eyes look clearer than they have since this whole fucking mess first started.

Mickey grips hard at Ian’s arm. Ian doesn't shove him away this time. Just blinks again.

Mickey takes in a shuddering breath. Pastes on a strained smile. “Hey there, sleeping beauty. You feeling any better?”

Ian moves his shoulder, just a tiny little twitch of a shrug. His gaze darts down to Mickey’s lips, then back up to his eyes, then down again. Mickey can see his jaw flexing, his throat working, his mouth twitching like he’s struggling to say something.

“What is it? You need something?”

A short, sharp, jerky nod.

“You want your gatorade? More food? Another blanket–?”

Ian shakes his head. His brows twist in frustration. He looks at Mickey’s lips again.

Oh.

Mickey’s breath whooshes, like he’s been kicked in the sternum. He kinda fucking feels like he has been.

He darts forwards again. Brushes his lips against Ian’s, chaste. Pulls back to look at him before doing it again, and again, and again.

Fairytales are bullshit. But maybe there’s some things they got right.

send me a number~

#prompt games #gallavich #my scribblings #if this hurts to read. just know it hurt infinitely more to write.#jk this was fun (said with tears and blood on my face)

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darling-caelestis · 11 months

Text

*ೃ༄ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n; romantic or platonic, they still adore you~ it all depends on how you wanna look at it.

character used are from 4.3 and before, no characters from 3.6 onwards is mentioned.

synopsis; in which, someone answers your silent plea for help and they do all they can to help you~

. when you get into a difficult situation, one where you are frantically trying to make eye contact with someone - anyone. maybe, the [treasure hoarders, emerites, fatui] are bothering you, or someone is being too pushy and making you uncomfortable. which ever is it, the person on the receiving end of your stare understands.

. they find themselves over to you, excusing themselves from what they were doing and then standing besides you, making their presence known. you smiled at them grateful as they tell the person bothering you to leave you alone.

. when they just don't give up, saying how it's isn't any of your saviours business, they frown. they make eye contact with you for a brief moment, before slinging an arm to drape around your waist, proudly declaring that they are your significant other.

. you were shocked of course, but keep a passive face so the prepetrator of this situation doesn't call your bluff. they grumble and groan, going to open their mouth again before making eye contact with your saviour, then ubruptly deciding that it wasn't worth the risk: they donder away.

. after they were out of sight, you step back from your saviour praising them with many thanks and asking 'how could I ever repay you?' rhetorically - however you get the answer of 'lunch'

. so, you find a nearby place to eat and you both order, before discussing your day and you off-handedly mention you get in situations like that a lot, before laughing it off as your food arrives. you both eat in silence, it's slightly awkward, as they seem to look at their food in strict concentration the entire time.

. you both finish, dicuss the tip and pay. now, the conversation seems dull with only you keeping alive, you wonder if you upset them as you leave the table.

. you thank them again, before saying goodbye and go off on your own ways.

. however their voice catches your attention as you stop: 'wait, you said you get in situations like that a lot right? why don't we come up with a solution for that?'

. intrigued by what you were saying, you face them again and dicuss your options before coming to the decision to 'hang out' more often and hopefully the person [or people] who have been bothering you get the idea and leave you alone. it sounds better than nothing so you agree and set a date to meet up again.

. this goes for awhile and you become close, only once afterwards did the prepetrator try to speak to you, but your saviour quickly shut it down with, 'cant you see we are on a date?' before dragging you off to look somewhere else.

. they forever stopped bothering you after that, in fact you never see them any more, you guess this friend of yours really helps.

. this charade of you dating seems to be their favourite.

. you remember asking them about why they chose that of all things but they merely say it's makes others uncomfortable. you agree with little reasoning on the matter, it's not like you have ever done it to get out of a situation before, how would you know? After all, this excuse of a relationship seems to be doing to job and keeping them away.

. you start to stumble across them more and more often where ever you are, shopping? yeah, they are in lane over. a stroll? they are on the opposite side of the bridge. their presence soon becomes overbearing, so you distance yourself.

. now, they have became the situation where you make shifty eyes you get off of. seems they are not oblivious to that, but never say anything to you.

. now, they like to guilt trip you, how could you think of distancing yourself from them, when they willingly helped you? you couldn't be so selfish.

. no that's right, it's you being selfish, but the itching sensation of being uncomfortable crawls up your neck when your around them. you end up spilling to a friend about this feeling and they say that your making it up, after all, you are dating them, are you not?

. seems they worked their way into your life, but are stuck and can't leave, despite your attempts of making them.

☆[ALBEDO, ARLECCHINO, ayato, baizhu, beidou, candace, CHILDE, clorinde, cyno, DEHYA, diluc, furina, heizou, KAEYA, keqing, lisa, NEUVILLETTE, NINGGUANG, SHENHE, scaramouche, tighnari, TRAVELLER, venti, YAE MIKO, wriothesley, yelan]☆

....They can't help themselves, why would they want to leave you? They are protecting you, you need them, do you not? no, no, of course you do! After all, imagine what could of happened if they didn't dispose of the people persistently bothering you!

" ....aha, darling, you thought you could get rid of me? nuh-uh, honey, your sorely mistaken."

#genshin impact #x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin headcanons #i tried #enjoy lovelies #platonic yandere

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little-engineer-who-cant · 12 days

Text

Jason and Dick reunite

Part 7 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

“Sometimes you kiss my cheek and tell me that devotion is just your ability to endure.”

- a.dp

“Jason?” A knock sounds on the door of his apartment. “C-can we talk?” Jason’s hand clenches, involuntarily closing the book he was holding without marking his spot, fuck. Dick knocks again. “Please?”

(Don’t, he never came for you.)

(He’s my brother.)

(You’re his replacement.)

He opens the door, pretending like he’s not gripping the knob tight enough that his fingers are white. Denting the metal.

He’s tired, that’s the first thing to cross his mind when he sees Dick for the first time in five fucking years. Sees the familiar, warm blue eyes that crinkle with his smile, sees the dark circles beneath and the way his messy black hair looks like he’s done nothing but scrape at it with his fingers for hours. Dick looks tired.

“How did you find me?” It’s not really a question, but it can break this awful silence wide open with an answer they both know.

“Bruce told me you…” Dick swallows, then steels himself. “You were back.”

“Nice way of putting it.”

“I-” Dick’s shoulders roll forward, arms wrapped around his middle, shuffling his stance in the hallway. Small. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”

(No you’re not.)

(What if he is?)

(He never did anything to help you, all he helped was Bruce. Joker’s still alive.)

(I need to ask him, he’s my brother-)

(You’re his shadow, his reaper, his greatest mistake after leaving the J-)

“-ason?” He shakes his head, clearing it, but that thing still lingers in the back of it. “Are- are you okay?”

“...No.” For all of the Pit’s whinging and whining, this is Dick. This is Dick. Jason’s always trusted Dick, from the time he was a shifty-eyed kid until right now. The Pit had taken so many things, it’s not going to take him too. “No, I’m not.”

“Talk to me,” Dick’s hand is gentle as it fits into that familiar place around the side of Jason’s head, the same way it used to tilt him to better see an injury, to get a petulant child to look up at him for a lecture. Only now, it’s tipping his head down, into the solidity of Dick’s shoulder that had held Jason up so many times before, the shoulder that had held blood and pain and legacy and betrayal and- “I’m right here,” Jason’s face presses against the familiar shape, forehead resting along Dick’s clavicle as his breathing get shaky, uncertain, uncontrolled- “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” Jason surrenders then, losing his battle of wills with a tsunami of Dick, this is your brother, you love him.

Burying his face in Dick’s shoulder, he let the tears come as he clung to the closest person he’d had in his life for the longest time. Is there a way for me not to feel like a child when he’s the one talking? The golden son, the infallible Robin-before-Jason, the unattainable standard of Bruce’s love-

“That’s it,” the kindest person I know, “let it out.” The familiar hand in his hair was a bittersweet memory made flesh, a reminder of happier days and more innocent times, when his knuckles were bruised from a sparring match rather than a killing spree. When the only red on his hands was dyed fabric, not viscera.

It hurts something deep in his chest, the undeniable reality of change. For all that Jason feels thirteen again, in the protective bubble of Dick’s presence, it’s impossible to ignore that he has to look down now. That Dick no longer crouches to be at the same level. Jason’s a man grown and Dick is too and he has never wanted to be a child again so badly. For all that the memory of his previous life angered him, he’s never wanted to trade his current one until this very moment.

There’s no price he wouldn’t pay not to be Dick’s little brother again. Even if he got nothing else, he just wanted to be clinging to Dick’s trail, following wherever he leads, no matter what Bruce said or wanted. I just want my brother back.

It’s not fair. Not to either of them. Because Jason Todd isn’t what crawled out of that coffin, Jason Todd isn’t the one crying on Dick’s shoulder. Jason Todd is dead. Neither Dick nor the carcass carrying a stolen name can ever get their brother back.

“He didn't even tell me you were dead,” Dick whispers against Jason’s hair, grip tightening as Jason tries to jerk away. “You'd been in the ground for months before I knew anything.”

“If you're trying to get me to empathize with him, you're failing.” He’s able to break free then, stalking back into his apartment and not even caring that Dick follows and shuts the door without permission. No, I’m not going to forgive Bruce. Don’t ask that of me. That’s the one thing you can’t ask, please- “I’m not gonna-”

“Would you shut up and listen to me?!” Dick's voice rings off the walls around them, silencing Jason just as effectively now as his frustrated disappointment had in training years ago. He was here first, this is his mantle that you've dared stain. “I-” Dick's voice breaks, shoulders slumping like the steel beam of rage holding them straight had just snapped. “I didn't know. By the time Bruce told me, Joker was in Arkham. Or else he never would have gotten there.”

“I don’t think Bruce would like you admitting murderous intention.” But his heart thaws a bit at the admission, the perfection of Dick Grayson, of Nightwing, collapsing to reveal the grief underneath. The care, someone cared.

“Bruce doesn’t get a fucking opinion.” And Jason’s silence must be the answer Dick wanted because he huffs, shaking his head and leaning his head against the steel next to him. “It's been a long, complicated road since you left, Jay-bird." The nickname hits like a gut punch with a knife. "None of it's been easy. But in the end, you were my brother. You still are.”

“Jason Todd died in that warehouse.”

(Don’t give him the false hope that he crawled back out.)

“And Dick Grayson died when his parents did. And again when Bruce replaced me with you.” That shuts Jason up again. Shuts his insidious little hitchhiker up too. “And again when you died and again when he shoved Tim into your spot that used to be mine. I've died a thousand times, Jason. But I'm still Dick Grayson. And you're still Jason Todd. You're still my brother, and I still love you. Not even death can change that.”

“I didn’t come back right.” It’s the one truth Jason knows. Wiping his eyes, he can’t bear to meet Dick’s. “There’s… it’s in my head, Dick. The Pit. All the time. Whispering. It’s just poison and lies and… sometimes it’s right.”

“Talk to me,” Dick whispers, drawing him closer again.

“I don’t know how to make it make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. But you can’t bottle it up, Jason. Talk to me. Worry about sense when it’s all out of your head.” He’s never been able to tell Dick no.

—

“There’s a dinner tonight. At the Manor. Alfred’s making risotto with mushrooms.” It’s one of Jason’s favorites, but that part goes unspoken.

“Say hi to him for me, will you?” He doesn’t pause cleaning his gun. Maybe if he calls Silena, she’d be up for trying to make some. Maybe she can make it and he just doesn’t know. Wouldn’t be the first time she pleasantly surprised him.

“You can come, you know. No one’s going to kick you out.” Poor wording.

“No.”

“Okay, that came out wrong. I want you to come and everyone else wants to meet you. Properly. Bruce will behave, I promise.”

“I’ll still pass.” He stops cleaning to pull out his phone, intending on texting… Someone he’s currently not speaking to, fuck his entire life. It’s almost a relief when Dick covers the phone with a hand.

“Jason.”

“Dick.”

“Will you come?” Stubborn, it’s a Wayne family trait. One that Jason hates with every fiber of his being when he’s being matched blow for blow with it.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he relents. I don’t know if I can behave. If I can play the game today. If he can walk into the Manor, see the trappings of his old life and see Bruce smiling at someone else like his sons are cookie cutter replacements for one another without doing something that violates the Geneva Conventions.

(Dick did it when you were the newest cookie.)

(Fuck off, he left. I died.)

(Keep making excuses for your own cowardice.)

“Please? For me?” It’s a goddamn hammer blow against the iron wall of Jason’s resistance.

“That’s a low blow.” A killing one really.

“Jason…” Dick blows out a heavy breath, shoulders slumping. “I don’t care if you bitch at Bruce or ignore Tim or do anything you feel like you have to do. I just want you there. I lost you for five years. Please, even if it’s just once-”

“Fine, fine,” Jason waves his hand like it’s nothing but they both know he’s lying. He’s not looking Dick in the eyes because there’s the unfamiliar and shameful burn of tears welling up in his own, his shoulders are rolled forward to make himself smaller and his voice is cracking like he’s a child again.

He goes. He goes for Dick and everyone knows it. No one addresses it and he ignores Bruce completely. He spends most of the night in the kitchen with Alfred, barely resisting the urge to poison food as he helps prepare it. But he goes.

“Will you come?” Dick asks again, another day.

“Fine.” They both know he can’t say no to Dick. Not ever. If Dick asks, Jason will be there.

#jason todd #dick grayson #batman #my writing #ao3 link

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softguarnere · 9 months

Text

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 22: One Tough Broad

Summary: "I just needed to be someone else for a bit." A/N: I have not spoken French in about three years now, so Gene's dialogue might be completely wrong. But at least I tried 🤷🏻‍♀️ Also, while I've never seen raspberries growing on Currahee, there are so many plants, who's to say they're not somewhere along the trail? Warnings: mentions of war, injury, hospitals, language Taglist: @latibvles @lady-cheeky @liebgotts-lovergirl @lieutenant-speirs @ithinkabouttzu @hxad-ovxr-hxart

Belgium, 1944

Full of purpose, Gene leads Zenie from the Jeep to the town’s large church. (Perhaps it’s not very big – she’s just used to the small, white, wooden churches of the South where congregations squeeze together in hard pews to sing and renounce.) He hustles her right past the crowds outside, only sparing a glance at the piles of bodies lined up against a low wall. The scene steals the breath from Zenie’s lips, but there’s no time to stop.

“J'ai besoin d'une infirmière,” Gene announces when they enter the church. Some other medics glance up, but none answer. If he had wanted their answer, he would have asked in English.

Instead, it’s a young Frenchman’s voice that replies, “De quoi avez-vous besoin?”

“J'ai besoin de parler à une infirmière. C’est urgent.”

When the young man – Is he a doctor? He doesn’t wear an armband or uniform of any sort. He might be just a young man – rushes off, Gene once again guides Zenie. This time, he starts her toward the back of the church, to a more isolated area.

He finds a small room and leads her into it, shutting the door behind her before rushing back to check on Skinny and his leg. For a few moments, Zenie is alone in the dim room, waiting. Her only companion is the patch of wintery sunlight coming from a small stained-glass window on the wall above her. Some old crates stacked in the back corner provide a place for her to sit. She practically falls onto them she feels so exhausted, though the morning has just begun.

When Gene returns, a young woman follows him into the room. Zenie jumps up as the door quickly opens and shuts. The action makes Gene’s brows furrow.

“Thought you might feel better if you had a, um, a woman to help out with the stitchin’ and all.” When Zenie blanches, he rushes on. “Don’t worry. I trust her.”

The woman is young, maybe the same age as them. Kind eyes survey her as she looks between Gene and Zenie. Though Zenie can’t understand what she says to Gene in French, the question in the woman’s eyes is clear: Who is this soldier, and why are we alone? Whatever Gene tells her, her realization is just as clear.

The woman approaches her the way that one approaches an animal that they are afraid of startling. She motions for Zenie to take a seat and then does the same, settling in on a box across from her. Her hands are folded in her lap when she nods to Zenie’s jacket and asks, “May I . . . ?”

“Yes.”

Zenie assumes that Gene has told this nurse about her situation, but the woman still starts slightly when she pulls back Zenie’s jacket and sees the bandages wrapped around her chest. Her shock is momentary. Her face quickly settles into a mask of concentration as she and Gene inspect Zenie’s arm.

She bites her lip to keep herself from flinching every time they pick a small fragment of shrapnel from her flesh. When she offers her a flask to draw from, she gratefully accepts it and downs the firewater, grimacing at the taste, as the nurse begins stitching up the long gash on her arm.

Before she knows it, it’s all over.

“Très chanceux.” The nurse pats Zenie’s good shoulder and helps her shrug her jacket back on. From the pocket of her apron, she removes a strip of bedsheet that she uses as a sling to secure Zenie’s arm. “Could have been much worse. Could have . . .” She doesn’t have to finish. Her eyes flick upwards, toward the stained-glass window behind Zenie’s head. “Someone is watching over you.”

“You won’t tell?” Zenie blurts out.

The nurse offers her a small smile and shakes her head. It’s all the reassurance that she needs.

“Thank you.”

She nods, then turns her attention to Eugene. “J'enverrai des fournitures avec vous.”

Zenie breathes a sigh of relief when the nurse leads them out of the room, back into the makeshift hospital proper. She hands Gene a small box and begins loading it with what she can. Not able to understand the French words they exchange, Zenie’s eyes wander, taking in the scene around her.

Wounded men are everywhere that she looks, some far worse than others. A feeling that Zenie cannot bring herself to name clings to them, its grip growing stronger with every breath that they take, waiting for its moment to strike. Weary and worn medics weave their way through them. Nurses hold hands and offer solace when and where they can.

Passing through them, she catches a flash – ever so brief – of dark hair rushing by with a man on a stretcher. Zenie pauses for a moment to stare. More nurses and medics follow, and Zenie loses sight of who she thought that she saw.

“How are you feeling, Skinny?”

Her fellow paratrooper looks up at her from the cot they have him situated on as he waits for his turn to be helped. Pain is evident on his face. His eyes are hazy with it, and glassy with that expression that she’s come to know from seeing him in bars and pubs after he’s had a little something to drink.

“They gave me alcohol, but I don’t think it’s doing any good.”

“You’ve built up a tolerance to it with all your partying.”

Skinny grimaces. “I guess. Hey, how about you? They fix up your arm?”

“Yeah. I’m going back with Doc Roe.”

“Oh.” Skinny settles back onto the cot, his body loosening with the action. “You’re getting out of here pretty quick, then.”

“The nurse said I was lucky.”

“You are,” he grumbles. He lifts his head a little, making sure she’s still there. “Hey, Tommy. Do me a favor, yeah? If you see Shifty and the rest of the guys, tell them that I’m gonna be okay.”

“I will.”

“Tommy!” Gene clutches the box of supplies tightly as he rounds the corner. He nods towards the door; time to go.

“Bye, Skinny.”

“Bye, Tommy.” For the sake of her friend, Zenie pretends not to notice the frown that tugs at his lips when she steps away, leaving him alone in a place so full of pain and suffering . . . and death.

Father Maloney is holding mass when they return. A good number of Zenie’s friends are kneeled before him as he speaks Latin. Bill and Babe tried to explain it all to her once, but she can’t figure out if they’re being blessed or reprimanded for their sins.

She thanks Gene for everything and then makes her way towards the group. “Go,” she can hear Father Maloney saying as she approaches. “and fight bravely for your country, and for your God.”

Well, she thinks, that answers that question.

The men stand. There are sighs of relief and a few laughs.

“Well guys,” Skip Muck says with a grin. “If we die now, we’re dying in a state of grace! Isn’t that right, Babe?”

The Philadelphian laughs, starts to say something, then stops short as Zenie and Gene approach. His eyebrows disappear underneath the rim of his helmet.

“You’re back?!”

Zenie can’t help but smirk. She might have a sling on her arm and a nasty looking scar where the nurse – or Renée, as Gene says her name is – stitched her up, but she’s back with Easy Company where she belongs. What was it that Bill had said when he made his glorious return from the hospital?

She claps Babe on the shoulder, smiling when she quips, “Had to come back and keep your ass in line, Heffron.”

Beside him, John Julian laughs. Babe, on the other hand, still looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Boy, Bill will be glad to see you,” Julian says. “None of us knew what the hell he was gonna do when we heard you got hit.”

Me neither, Zenie thinks, remembering how her friend had reacted upon learning her secret. Not badly, but . . . She wasn’t exactly around long enough to deal with any fallout. Beads of sweat appear under her helmet at the thought of what might have happened after she left – or what might happen now that she’s back. If Babe and Julian are joking around with her, then Bill didn’t announce her secret to the world the second that Gene swept her off to dig the shrapnel out of her arm. She hoped that he wouldn’t. Maybe she won’t be court martialed or sent home – today, anyway.

For a moment she stands frozen. Not for the first time, blood rushes in her ears like roaring ocean waves as she considers her options. Should she return to her foxhole? Or find someone else to share one with? She could always try her luck wandering to the outpost to find Shifty, could hide out there for a while.

Fate decides for her.

If there’s one thing that Zenie has learned in all the time she’s known Bill Guarnere, it’s that his insistence that you should never volunteer for anything is a lifesaver. With a sling on her arm, she shouldn’t be on a patrol. Sergeant Martin’s eyes pass over her, not even considering taking someone who’s injured his dominant arm. She slips away as Gene, Julian, and Babe all gather around for their sudden orders, her heartbeat still echoing in her ears.

Grey clouds and the branches of barren trees block the wintery sun that hangs somewhere overhead, out of reach. Its position is impossible to find, and the time is just as impossible to calculate. But if she had to guess, Zenie would wager that Bill is out doing his rounds right now, making sure that everyone is okay – or as okay as they’re able to be in this place. That will give her a minute to figure out what to say when she sees him. Or at least to give her a moment alone where she can breathe.

Her foxhole comes into sight. At almost the same moment, a helmet appears over its rim, shadowing eyes that latch onto her with suspicion. She stops in her tracks.

“Tommy?” Bill jumps out of the foxhole and stands before her in an instant. Over and over again, he looks her up and down, his mouth agape. “You’re back!”

Slowly, she nods. No one else is around, but she asks in a quiet voice, “Should I have stayed in the town?”

Bill’s eyebrows knit together. “Should you – what?” Understanding dawns on his face. “Oh!” He lowers his own voice. “I didn’t turn you in, if that’s what you mean.”

He didn’t say anything. Zenie’s heart slows a bit. Her secret is out, and so far, he’s kept it.

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Bill repeats. “Jesus, Tommy. You’re my friend, that’s why!” He drops back down into their foxhole. When Zenie doesn’t move, he gestures for her to do the same. They sit for a moment, staring out at the line, neither of them speaking.

When Gene learned her secret, he had called her brave. He wanted nothing in return except for her to take better care of herself so that her secret wouldn’t get out. Shifty had also called her brave, back when he uncovered the truth. He had promised not to turn her in, to be in her corner. So far, Bill has said that he hasn’t turned her in. But what happens now?

She glances at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead, out into the nothingness of the snow.

Ages later, Bill sighs. “So . . . Can we talk about . . . this?”

This. This lie, this charade. This secret.

“Okay.” She didn’t have this conversation with Gene; he hadn’t asked why or how she did any of this. With Shifty, she had made the first move by asking what he wanted to know. But with Bill . . . He’s a wildcard. There’s a reason that wild is part of his nickname.

“Okay,” Bill echoes. Silence, for a moment; not something Zenie is used to experiencing around him. When he finally speaks, his voice is much softer than usual – another change of pace. “So you’ve been pretendin’ to be a man this whole time?”

Zenie’s own voice is nothing but a whisper. “Yes.”

“How much of it all was true, though?”

Most of it, she realizes for the first time. She never lied about where she was from. And other than using a fake name, she’s never lied about who she is. Everything that she’s ever said about her family, her early life, her likes, her dislikes – it was the truth.

“My name isn’t really Thomas Driver, obviously. Other than that . . . Almost everything else has been true.” In all the times that she’s wondered how her friends would react if they learned her secret, she never got as far as imagining how she would explain what she’s done or why she’s doing it. Now she’s grasping at straws. “I just needed to be someone else for a bit.”

Still looking out over the rim of the foxhole, Bill nods. “What is your name, actually? Can I ask?”

“Zena,” she admits. The name feels different in her mouth now and fits strangely in her ears. For years now, the only person who has called her by that name has been Shifty. “Zena B McGlamery. But almost everyone back home calls me Zenie.”

“Zenie.” For the first time, Bill looks at her. Like Shifty before him, he’s looking at her for the first time and seeing Zenie instead of Tommy. He tilts his head. “What does the B stand for?”

“It’ll stand for Beat Your Ass if you tell anyone.”

Laughs burst forth from them both. Good; despite everything, she can still make him do that, at least.

“Beatrice,” she amends. “It was my Granny’s name.”

“Granny. God, if she could see ya now!”

Oh God. Who knows what she would say.

“Is that why you did all this?” Bill asks, his voice quiet again. “After she died – Wait! That letter from your ma, right before the jump. Christ! You really did run away! This is why they didn’t know you joined the army.” Half of his mouth quirks upwards as his eyes flick over her, taking her in in a new light. “You know, for someone so quiet, you really got a rebellious streak, huh?” He punches her playfully on her uninjured arm. “Shoulda known you were one tough son of a bitch that day with the raspberries. Er, one tough broad, I mean.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t remember that?”

He squints at her, like it’s the most unbelievable thing in the world that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “When we first got to Toccoa, when they were makin’ us walk up Currahee to get us used to it, Luz pointed out some berries along the trail. Everyone was worried they were poisonous – wouldn’t take a chance with ‘em, especially since there were briars everywhere. But you said ‘They’re black raspberries!’, shoved your hand through the briars, and picked a handful for all of us. Your hand was covered in juice and blood from where the thorns snagged your skin, and you didn’t even care. It was only the second day I’d known ya, and you’d already stood your ground against me and gotten covered in blood just for a few berries.” Bill makes a noise that’s half laugh, half scoff. “I just remember thinkin’, ‘This goddamn shortie is tougher than he looks.’ And I was right – I just didn’t know the half of it back then.”

Granny had taken her out to pick black raspberries when she was young. Of course she would recognize them, try to pick a few if she had the chance. But try as she might, she can’t place this specific story in her memory. She’ll just have to take Bill’s word for it.

The Italian shrugs. “Anyway. God, I still can’t wrap my mind around the whole thing.”

“Well, now maybe it all makes more sense.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Doc Roe and Shifty. That’s it.”

“Since when?”

“Since Toccoa. But Shifty didn’t confront me about it until England, the night that you tried to give me that pin-up.”

He winces. “Sorry ‘bout that. I probably look real stupid now.”

“No,” Zenie assures him. It just makes her look like more of a liar.

Before she can tell him as much, Bill’s eyebrows knit together. “Your ma,” he says, his mind back on the letter from the day of the jump. “She really has no clue. You gonna go back to her when the war ends?”

Zenie hesitates. Mama promised she would protect her. Yet her father . . .

“Probably.”

Bill tilts his head. “Probably?”

“My father,” Zenie explains. “I don’t know what he would do if I came back. Running away, everything I’ve done . . .” She makes a vague gesture, like that explains everything.

“Ah.” Bill leans back against the packed earth of the foxhole, his gaze once again wandering out to the expanse of snow before them. He shakes his head, the action causing his helmet to make a scraping sound against the dirt behind him. “I said I was gonna get you home to your ma, remember? That still stands. Even if I gotta put your old man in his place.”

The mental image of Bill escorting her back into her home, of such a wild young man getting in her father’s face like some sort of brave prince facing the wrath of a dragon, is enough to make her smile. Something she could never hope to do, but that her friend could do without batting an eye.

“You said that you needed to be someone else for a bit,” Bill notes. He falls silent again.

“Yes.”

“I dunno, Tommy. If anything, maybe this whole thing allowed you to be more yourself.”

More herself? Tommy is a role she plays. Someone who’s brave and who has friends and who does all the things that Zenie herself could never hope to. They’re completely different.

When she doesn’t respond, Bill shrugs again. “Just a thought.”

“Your first one ever?” She teases.

He grins. “You know, kid? I think you’re gonna be okay.”

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers x ofc #band of brothers x oc #shifty powers x original female character #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers #bill guarnere #oc zenie mcglamery #eugene roe #my writing #like a girl (like a man)

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ithinkabouttzu · 1 year

Text

Run2u - Shifty Powers

Description: When a valentines date goes wrong, your bestfriend, Shifty can always make it better

(Shifty x female reader)

*based of the song ‘run2u’ by Stayc*

Word count: 3362

Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst

Warnings : vulgar language, a tiny bit of name calling, and douchbags .

Masterlist <3

(Modern AU)

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

“I'll cross the line over and over. It's okay if I get hurt, I'll run to you~”

You look at yourself in the mirror one more time, examining your features, checking for any mistakes in your makeup or any flyaways in your hair.

For some context, It was Valentine’s day and you agreed to go on a date with a boy, Jake from one of your semenars in school.

He was a sweet boy really. He was nice, funny and always gave you the homework answers when you needed them, but he wasn’t the one person you had intended on spending Valentine’s day with.

But your bestfriend and roommate, Shifty, always caught your eye instead.

Even as little kids you were head over hills for the sweet boy. Whether it’d be playing in the forest, or telling off bullies in school ~ You were still smitten with Shifty.

He never noticed though, despite your best efforts of flirting over the years. You never minded though, just getting to be best friends with him was enough for you.

As kids, you guys continued to hangout almost everyday, spending any free time you had together, but once fall rolled around and it was time for you and Shifty to begin high school, everything had changed.

Shifty always showed his southern hospitality to everyone at your school. regularly saying hello to people in the halls, helping teachers with their bags, and was one of the star athletes on the football field. He, of course, quickly became popular with many new friends and often smitten by the popular girls.

You on the other, not so much. You stuck to a couple of your other friends and art, But your eccentric and rebellious style often led to the occasional teasing and harsh rumors against you.

Adjusting into different friend groups, getting into relationships, hobbies, and sports made it hard to see your best friend anymore.

And with overtime, You had thought that maybe your feelings for Shifty had subsided. Finally coming to terms with the thought that he probably wasn’t interested in you the way you were interested in him.

Until, he asked you to be his roommate for college, when he found out you guys were both accepted into the same uni, only a month before graduating.

You agreed and you both started hanging out more and more just like old times.

Eventually all of those feelings that you had for Darrell in the past had started coming back to you, for good this time.

Now living with him and seeing him everyday, It made it ten times harder for you to hide your feelings around him.

You finally walk out of the bathroom door into your room. making way towards your bed, which laid your beautiful black dress you’d picked out for tonight.

You put your dress on and took a spin in the mirror. Somehow you wished that it was Shifty you were spending Valentine’s day with, and not Jake.

When you two were in the kitchen earlier this morning, Darrell had brought up Valentines plans and you thought it would be the perfect time to bring up Jake.

“So Shifty guess what?” You said sitting in the dining room table, eating a bowl of cereal.

“what’s on your mind y/n?” He said with a bright smile looking up from the orange he was peeling.

“I got asked out today, I’m finally going to have a Valentine’s date after all these years!” you said walking towards the boy. “isn’t that great!?”

Shifty stopped peeling his orange, looking up at you.

“Really y/n? well that’s great, really” He looking at you, with almost a bittersweet smile. Then quickly going back to his orange.

You looked at him confused. Something had changed in his demeanor when you brought up your new date.

He continued peeling his orange with a blank expression on his face.

“well what about you shift, what are your plans for valentines?”

“oh nothin really, i’ll just be here y’know, maybe go out with some friends.” He said not taking his eyes from the orange.

“Oh okay, well when I get back we can watch plenty of movies! it’ll be your pick tonight!”

“Of course y/n. Good luck on your date tonight. I’m really happy for you.” He looked up at you with a sullen look on his face. Before taking his orange and walking off to his room.

It was definitely an odd encounter between you two but you didn’t question it. You just assumed that he isn’t used to you going out on dates and that was the reason behind his off behavior.

You go into your closet, looking for the perfect pair of heels that would go with your pretty dress.

You find some simple black heels, that aren’t too high and would go perfect with your dress.

You look in the mirror one last time before you grab your phone and purse and start to walk out of the bedroom door.

As you’re walking out you hear a text notification coming from your phone.

“I’ll be there in 5, be ready”You text back an okay and shut your door.

You walk out in the living room to see a concentrated Shifty playing his game.

“How do I look Shift?”

He quickly pauses his game on the tv and sits up from his spot on the couch.

“Wow, Y/n. y-you look amazing” He says, Looking you up and down respectfully.

“Thanks shift, you always know how to make me blush”

He smiled at your comment then looked back down again, as if he was trying to find the words he wanted to say. “Jake is one lucky man”

“Thanks Shifty, I’ll be back before you know it!” You smiled back to him.

Right then you hear the doorbell ring.

“I will, be safe y/n and if you need me just call.” He said walking you up towards the door.

“ I will, bye shifty!” You open the door, to see a nervous Jake, scratching the back of his neck and looking towards the drive way.

“Hiya y/n. You ready?” He quickly puts his hand down from his neck and moves it towards you, waiting for you to grab his hand.

you gladly accept and head out the door on the way to his car.

It was almost towards the end of the date with Jake. He took you to a nice restaurant downtown.

It was okay so far, He didn’t ask really any first date questions, or any questions at all.

He seemed more interested in talking about himself and what he was up to, but you were alright with it, never being much of a talker yourself.

“So again, That’s how me and my friends Didn’t get caught stealing that stop sign” He boasted on about yet another story of his.

He noticed you looking in the distance, watching the rain start to pick up from outside.

“Are you even listening to me?” He put put down his fork and grabbed onto his glass of champagne.

“Yea, yes I am” You said looking back towards him with a grin.

“Alright well, are you almost ready to leave, maybe go somewhere quieter than here” He said looking at you with a charming smirk.

You gave him a timid “sure” before you guys headed on your way.

Once you guys were finally on the road, He finally starts asking basic ‘get to know you’ questions, As you start to tell him about your hometown, you feel jakes free hand slowly creep up your thigh.

“Jake, What are you doing?” You gave an unsure look his way.

“Oh nothing doll, Can I not touch a darling like you?” He asks with a chuckle. Squeezing your thigh before going up further under your dress to your panty line.

You start feeling uncomfortable by his gesture, wishing for him to stop, “Jake quit.”

“quit what, darling?” You try to pull his hand off of your inner thigh but he doesn’t budge.

“Get you hands off me!” You raise your voice slightly, You push his hand as hard as you can.

You get a scoff return from Jake as he pushes his hand back to the steering wheel, shaking his head, almost as if he was embarrassed that he was turned down.

“Take me home, now.” You say facing the passenger window, refusing to look at him.

“Whatever” He replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“bitch” you hear him mutter under his breath.

“What did you just say?” You grit your teeth in anger.

“Nothing, y/n, I said nothing” He said clenching his jaw and continuing his eyes on the road.

You could feel tears in your eyes starting to form. Why, out of all nights this had to happen?

The rest of the car ride was silent, except for the heavy rain that starting coming down onto the car.

Finally, in what you thought took forever, You could see him slowly pulling up to the front of your house.

“Get out” He spat out at you. You could hear the irritation in his voice but just ignored it.

“Trust me, I am” You replied, rolling your eyes.

You gathered all of your belongings in the car before heading out of the car into the rain.

“Thanks a lot for wasting my night, bitch” Jake yelled out to you before driving off recklessly.

You start to feel your throat close up and your eyes cloud with those familiar tears from earlier.

You let out all of your emotions right there in the drive way of your house. How could you be so stupid to go out with him?

Why did he feel the need to call you a bitch and what were his intentions with you anyway? Your head starts to load with these unwanted thoughts.

“Y/n?” you hear a voice come from the porch, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turn your head to see a concerned looking shifty standing in the door way of your shared home. Only being able to make out little parts of his features in the darkness and rain.

You see him close the door for a second, only for him to turn the porch light on and get what looks to be a rain coat from the rack by the door.

“C‘mon let’s get inside y/n, you’re gonna get sick.” He says stepping out of the house and towards you.

He examines the features on your face, noticing your runny mascara, red eyes, and tear stained cheeks.

You quickly look down, trying to hide your face from the sweet boy, not wanting him to see you like this.

“Are you alright, darlin?” He said, lifting your chin up with his calloused but soft fingers.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes.

You felt his hand move up to your cheek, caressing it lightly. “Tell me what happened, honey”

“He was a douchebag, and It was just horrible Darrell.” You started to cry again.

“Hey, hey it’s okay” He said wrapping you in his arms. Holding you tight from all of the pain you endured this evening.

“Here take this” He grabbed the coat and started to wrap it around you. You noticed his soft but focused features. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looks in the rain.

“What?” He grinned, looking back at you once he wrapped you up the in coat. He caught you staring.

“Nothing, Shift.” You said still staring at him dreamily, and once again, he really did look nice in the rain.

He observed the way you looked at him. You could see his body shift, noticing his cheeks and ears go blood red.

“y-y/n let’s go inside where it’s warm. We can talk more about it if you want to inside.”

He gently grabbed your arm and led you up the porch and into the house.

Once you to got inside he took the coat off of you and replaced it with a nice blanket.

“Go sit down and warm up, i’ll go make some hot chocolate for you, a-alright?” He hurried to the kitchen to fix you up a nice drink.

When he came back into the living room he sat down and handed you your hot chocolate and a water bottle just in case you needed something else to drink with the warm beverage.

“Tell me what happened darlin. I m-mean only if you want to, no pressure” He started to explain himself.

“It’s alright Shifty. I’ll tell you what happened.”

You started onto the story of what happened from the beginning to the end as he listened to your words carefully.

As you started to tell him what happened in the car you could see his face harden and his jaw clench at your words. It was rare to see Darrell angry, but when he was, it was almost scary.

You could feel yourself choke up on your words, tears ready to spill again at any moment.

“So that’s what happened shift. That’s why i’m crying. ” You tried slowing down your tears. Holding the blanket closer to you, searching for comfort in the warmth.

“That guy, i-imma get him. No man should treat a little lady like that. Especially you, y/n.” He got up, ready to set out and look for the boy that made his y/n cry.

“Darrell wait, please just stay with me. He ain’t worth it. ” You looked up at him with your glassy doe eyes. His expression softening after your eyes met his.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. That guy’s a real jerk, he doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you” He sat back down and rubbed your back lightly.

You think your heart skipped a couple beats when he said that. He called you pretty?

“Thank you shift. I don’t think he deserved me either” You said pausing, before taking a leap of faith. “But I could think of someone who does”

“Who y/n? He must be somethin” Shifty replied, leaning forwards to grab his hot chocolate.

“Would you like to know who it is Shifty?” You grabbed his arm, making him set his mug down and lean back into the couch.

“Who is it y-you like y/n? Tab? Chuck? Just tell me.” He looked at you with curious eyes. It seemed as if he needed to know you answer more than you did.

“But if I tell you nothing will change, right?” You ask him.

“Just spit it out y/n/n”

You thought about the words you were about to say. You might not ever get the chance to tell him how you feel, so now would be the best time to live in the moment.

“I like you Darrell.. Ever since we were kids i’ve liked you. It’s always been you who I run to.” You finish. Looking for any expressions on his face, Looking for any signs that he might just want you back.

You waited for a response. Shifty sat there with a blank expression, in shock. He didn’t know what to say to you.

“Shifty, say something please” You plead in a soft whisper, feeling your voice go weak and your throat close up.

This was one of your worst fears

That the relationship between you and shifty was unrequited and that he had never liked you.

You look at him one last time before standing up and walking fast out of the front door, slamming the it shut.

As you hear the door close, you slowly sink to the porch floor, feeling your knees go out as you finally let out all of your held in emotions.

Today has been so draining for you, and the last thing you needed was this.

Shifty had always been such a big part in your life. Your first crush, your first friend. Losing him would almost be like losing a part of yourself, and you couldn’t let that happen.

“Y/n?” You hear a soft voice open the door.

Knowing the familiar voice and scared to hear what he might have to say, you get up and start to walk away from him into the rain.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t- I didn’t mean to leave you hanging in there. I j-just didn’t know what to say. I’m just sorry y/n” You see him shutting the door and following after you into the rain.

“It’s okay, Shift. I get it” You stare at your feet blankly. You could feel your heart breaking by the second.

You could now notice how much closer he had gotten to you. You examine his soft eyes, it almost looked as if he had tears in his eyes, In this moment, whatever he said could make or break your relationship between him forever.

He takes a step closer towards you, if that was even possible, and puts a few wet strands of hair behind your ear. Looking at you with those same dreamy eyes. You start to feel your mind and heart calm down to its original, peaceful state.

He grabs you softly pulling you into his warm embrace. He holds you tightly, almost as if he could lose you at any second.

You sink into to his chest, hearing his heartbeat in your ear and smelling his woodsy cologne on his shirt.

You take your head away from his chest and look back up at him, before feeling his soft lips melt into yours. In that moment you could feel a hundred thoughts at once, all landing back to him.

You never thought a kiss could have so much emotion and love before until tonight. His kiss was so loving, soft, but passionate all at the same time, something you could definitely get used to.

As the kiss continued, you could feel him sigh into your mouth as a sign of relief, before coming back up for air.

You both stepped back to look at each other. From your previous position before he hugged you.

“I always thought you were just joking, no way did I ever think you actually liked me y/n. If so, I would’ve asked you out in a heartbeat” You hear him speak his feelings to you , in a whisper like voice.

You couldn’t believe your ears, all of this just seemed too perfect. You would have never believed, in a million years that the Shifty Powers had liked you all along and never once told you.

“So, I’m sorry y/n, ” He starts back up to his confession.

“b-but It’s always been you” He takes his hand and pets your cheek softly.

You were so happy, you could almost cry. You scold yourself for never thinking you had a chance with him in the first place.

“so Shifty… Now that I know you feel the same. Will you be my Valentines?” You tilt your head at him curiously.

“Of course” He replies back to you with a soft smile, before going back to kiss your cheek.

You smirk to yourself then look at him, “It’s crazy.”

Kissing Shifty in the rain would be nothing little of a dream come true for you, but here you are.

“What is?” He questions, noticing the smirk on your face.

“us, you and me in the rain confessing our feelings for one another.” You start to laugh again.

“You’re right, I thought they only saved this stuff for the movies.” You hear him chuckle.

“Good thing you’re wrong” You say, admiring his wet features in the rain.

“Let’s go inside, then we can start are Valentines evening, Darling” He takes your hand and leads you back to the house.

Tonight was definitely a roller coaster ride of emotions but in the end it was all worth it, and this Valentine’s day was definitely one for the books.

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

A/n : Hiii I hope everyone likes this post!! I really challenged myself with this one and this imagine is just sooo cute!! - Mac <3

#Spotify #run2u #shifty powers #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fluff #Fluff #Smut #ithinkabouttzu #Shifty powers x reader #band of brothers oneshots #Shifty powers x oc #hbo war

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keyh0use · 8 months

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Delicate

in honour of finishing delicate + the fic trailer + because I'm emotional + I don't actually know when I'll post either, have some headcannons from my SOA rafebarry fic that only I care about

☠︎︎ Rafe is the definition of institutionalized, needing structure and guidance to thrive.

☠︎︎ His time inside the prison wasn't wasted. Rafe learned many useful skills and bulked up considerably, he even attended therapy to learn how to control his temper and communicate in better ways, though there was still a lot of work to be done. Getting clean definitely helped.

☠︎︎ The Outer Banks didn't welcome Rafe home with open arms. The words cop killer stalked after him and haunted him late at night, remembering the blood and the gushing and the cries.

☠︎︎ Seeing Barry for the first time was a gut punch, waves of emotion the boy had spent years taming crashing over him. At least it looked like the situation fucked Barry up too, the older man immediately asking if Rafe had come to kill him.

☠︎︎ Tig was the one to take Rafe to pick out a motorcycle and give him some pointers on riding it. The two of them had a different relationship with eachother than with the rest of the club, Tig affectionately calling Rafe son instead of brother and always checking in on him.

☠︎︎ It seemed like wherever Rafe went, Barry happened to be.

☠︎︎ More often than not, Rafe would give in to Barry's invitations to hangout, both of them powering through the awkward conversations and shifty glances. Barry was trying to be like they were before, and Rafe wasn't sure if that was possible.

☠︎︎ Rafe knew Barry was trying, the boy just needed time.

☠︎︎ The Cameron family was in shambles and it hung over the patriarchs head like a target from the other snooty families in Kildare. Sure, Sarah had forgiven their father enough to keep in touch and Wheezie picked up the phone every so often, but it wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. Nothing was unless it was exactly how Ward wanted it to be, which means Rafe flat out ignoring him just wouldn't do.

☠︎︎ As things start to heat up between the SONS and a rival MC, Jax decides they need extra help to maintain their front. Who better to hire to run the garage than a freelance mechanic who's already old friends with a patched member?

☠︎︎ Rafe just about melts into a puddle when he rolls into the lot to find Barry elbows deep in the guts of a Harley.

☠︎︎ Hating Rafe has brought the pogues back together, more determined than ever to foil his schemes like he's some sort of super villain. The accusations never end.

☠︎︎ Rafe keeps Barry's betrayal from the club, knowing what happens to a rat.

☠︎︎ A can of spilt paint is what finally sends Rafe stumbling over the edge of his finely drawn sanity. Red spreads across the pavement like the mess of sludge from Opie's brain matter that night in solitary after the brutal bludgeoning and Rafe has to empty the contents of his stomach into a bush outside the trailer. The flood gates open when Barry tries to comfort the boy, screams of anger spewing out with Rafe's dinner to fall around them, infecting their newfound sorta friendship. But Barry doesn't lose his cool, instead fighting Rafe until they can embrace. It's that very same night Rafe decides to open up and recount all the gory details of his sentence with a very compassionate, very apologetic Barry.

☠︎︎ Rafe has never admitted what he is out loud in fear of repercussions, once from his father and now from the club, unsure where he would stand. But Tig figures it out the first time he watches Barry and Rafe interact, the way they share inside jokes and shove eachother playfully and sneak lingering touches.

☠︎︎ Tig knows—Tig knows and he doesn't beat the shit out of Rafe like Ward has so many times. Tig knows Rafe is gay and all he does is press a kiss to the boy's forehead and pull him into a comforting embrace before the tears even have a chance to start leaking out.

☠︎︎ Time is filled with violent days followed closely by peaceful nights with Barry by his side, feeling content even as tensions between MC's grow and Ward tries again and again to force his way.

☠︎︎ Rafe confided in Tig that he wasn't sure if Barry was into him, let alone boys.

"He's at least half gay," Tig tells Rafe while peeking out from behind a curtain to watch Barry work. "Yup, I can see it in the way he wipes his hands with that rag."

It's ridiculous but makes Rafe laugh, feeling a little lighter at having someone to talk to.

☠︎︎ Meeting the Reaper for the second time in his short life has Rafe making the bold decision to come clean to Barry about his feelings, convinced he's not going to get lucky twice as the infection from the bullet wound spreads.

☠︎︎ Rafe doesn't have a moment to himself in the stark white hospital room, sterile environment feeling warm and safe in the company of his brothers, and Barry.

☠︎︎ Rafe and Barrys first kiss is bloody and violent, split lips and possessive hands.

☠︎︎ Being with Barry is the sunlight Rafe's been missing since he was eighteen and convicted of murder one. All those years he spent imagining what it would be like sinking toes into warm sand and feeling salt water on his skin that came from a source other than his own bloodshot eyes...only to come back and feel nothing. The OBX provided him no comfort, no happiness...but Barry snuck in and lit him up, kept him full of hope and want and potential.

☠︎︎ Taking his place on the older man's lap, Rafe patiently watches Barry sew his Men of Mayhem patch onto his cut—awarded to those who kill in the clubs name.

☠︎︎ Rafe would commit horrendous, rotten acts and return to Barry in the aftermath, violet knuckles kissed and every scar worshipped, before the older man would bury somewhere deep in him and ease away the last traces of guilt with each thrust.

☠︎︎ Tig confessing to the club he's been dating the call-girl the club did business with, who happens to be a trans woman, makes Rafe feel safe enough to disclose his own relationship.

☠︎︎ Later, when Jax and Rafe have a moment alone the boy is pulled into a full body hug, a rough hand on the back of his head caressing affectionately. "I love you, brother," Jax says softly, just like he has a hundred times before.

☠︎︎ Rafe is happy. There are internal issues with the club and with his family, still, but it's okay because things have been looking up. Besides, his relationship is perfect.

☠︎︎ As Ward's efforts grow desperate, his motives starting to present themselves.

☠︎︎ "This life...it ain't romantic or free. There's no path to anything that makes any sense. It's just dirty and sad, and we both know it's only going to get worse."

___________________________________________

I decided to leave out the NSFW headcannons because it's a whole other thing, but I'll post it soon

#rafebarry #rafe x barry #this fic is my baby #no one understands #i love this story so much

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slashingdisneypasta · 9 months

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So uh, do you remember my Tiny Tots AU? Well, I've thought of a few more things for it, if you'd like to hear XD of course you can easily ignore this too ^^

- Ok so in your second chapter of the Smartass' Daughter AU, it looked like that lady was initially drawn towards Wheezy because he was holding baby Y/N (but got ensnared by his beautiful eyes~). What if this became SUCH a common thing in the Tiny Tots AU? Like, so many women (and men) see just-starting-to-smoke-probably Wheezy with all these kids of varying ages, sees how much of a dad he is over all of them despite the fact none of them are his, and swoon over it? Maybe they assume he's some teacher, or a town baby sitter or something, but either way, they all feel similarly? Idk I just think this is funny XD

- What if Wheezy, and by extension Greasy since he's SUPPOSED to be the other responsible one here, get to befriend some of the parents? Not all of them, like I doubt he'd like Psycho's, depending on what they're like before the sanitorium, and he definitely has no respect for Poppy's. But like he and Smartass' and Stupids mum! I can definitely see her appreciating him watching over her sons very much ^^ (on this note, imagine Wheezy's cousins catching wind of this 'daycare' he's running and telling Mr. And Mrs. Wheezy.)

(This is for your headcannon of their families specifically since I'm still trying to figure out how I see their family situations. I'll get back to you with this when I do if you want XD)

- So, Greasy desperately needs some therapy. Wheezy might as well be an unlicensed therapist with the way I depict them. Maybe, even though Greasy is constantly leaving him with the kids and getting into trouble, they wind up bonding? Not necessarily a father-son bond, but maybe more like brothers? Idk, I just need Wheezy comforting Greasy when he's having a particularly rough day.

(Imagine Stupid, and possibly Poppy, being a comfort to Greasy too! Like taking care of Stu could distract Greasy from whatever is bugging him, and he's reassured that at least this little tyke likes him, even if the rest of the world seems against him ^^ and with Poppy. Well, she's a slightly older baby, so she doesn't quite understand why he's upset on a deeper level. But I can see her just hugging him, regardless if he's got a sneer or a defensive posture, and just telling him that everything will be ok. She'd try to stay until he feels better ^^)

- Psycho and Greasy totally develop a childish rivalry. Like the kind that makes Greasy wonder half the time why the hell he's even dealing with this little twit, and the other half he's being just a petty as Psycho is. Idk how it started- you know what? There wasn't even a beginning probably. Psycho met Greasy, this shifty teenager who smells funny, and immediately decided he didn't like him. It's like those videos of babies who start crying as soon as they're in somebody's arms XD except this child can and will bite-

- Alright, back to angst. Smarty is more than likely really stressed with having to take care of his little brother. It's no one's fault, his mom has to work so hard just to put food on the table and before Wheezy, there wasn't any other adult in their lives they could trust. But it doesn't change the fact that he still had to grow up faster than he should have because of this (maybe this is where he gets his leader instincts? So at least there's that). Fortunately, he's got Wheezy, and sometimes Greasy, to help out ^^ unfortunately, they came with all these other children so Smarty has to deal with that too XD

- Since Psycho and Poppy are friends in this AU, what if their families wound up knowing each other too? Idk what Psycho's family would think about her parents, but her parents definitely didn't approve of the little weasel friend she's made. I can imagine if one set of parents find out that their child is gone though, they'll call up the other household and ask if their kid is missing too. If yes, both families know that their kids are off together doing lord knows what XD (maybe this could lead to Poppy finding out about Psycho being left at the sanitorium too! She would definitely help get him out, or at least convince his family to take him back out).

- Roger and Jessica aren't really around that much. They'd kinda be like side characters in a TV show that only show up in a few episodes, I guess? But I'm imagining that they and the weasels and Poppy all run into each other on occasion. If Roger and Poppy are related, they'd show up and hang out more often. But if not, then there wouldn't really be a way/reason for them to interact with the others that I can see (unless Psycho still chases after Roger, and now Jessica has to defend her friend from the scary kid XD)

- Now that Shiny has officially been created, I gotta figure out how she fits in this AU. But this definitely would take place during her magician phase. She and Jessica are also the same age- maaaybe even know each other? Still debating it.

And that's all I got so far. I hope you like these! ^^

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH man, this is all so amazing, I just- ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!, the tiny tots au and all your ideas for it are so so obsess-worthy!!

'that's all I got so far'- 'THATS ALL'?? What do you mean, 'that's all', this a novel and more then we deserve!! XD 🧡💛💚💙💜

I cant even- I wanna add more because I feel like that is how I can properly express my loveee for this AU and your work but I really cant think of anything, this is all just overwhelmingly good!! Thank you soooooooooooooooooo much for sharing!!!

Every single dot point had me grinning from ear to ear XD

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periwinkle--daydreams · 1 month

Text

Baddest of the Bad: Elden Ring's Top 5 Most Evil Villains

So while I'm shifting gears and writing proper stories, I'd like to start what I hope will become a recurring "series" on this blog! Namely: villains of any given series (or an individual entry), and just how evil they are. Why? I dunno, I just always found this sort of thing fascinating! I guess as an aspiring writer who enjoys writing despicably evil villains for the audience to root against, I find it helpful to compare and contrast villains of this sort of ilk so I can emulate them with the baddies that I end up writing about.

Anyway, since I've recently beaten Elden Ring for the first time, I've got that game and its own villains fresh on my mind! So what better place is there to start, than to rank the biggest baddies haunting the Lands Between?

Just a fair warning that this isn't strictly a numbers game in terms of body count: that definitely plays a part in it though! Nor are the villains listed here all just 100% PURELY evil with no redeeming qualities. When I'm ranking villains by most evil, it's a combination of the scale of their actions, their personalities, the visceral nature of their crimes, the impact they have on the narrative... and my own personal bias. :^y Anyway, I promised a countdown, so here it is!

Number Five: Godrick the Grafted

"A lowly Tarnished, playing as a lord. I command thee, KNEEL! I am the lord of all that is golden!"

Ah, Godrick. One of my favorite characters, and one of my favorite boss fights! And one of the biggest butchering bastards you'll encounter during your journey through the Lands Between. While Limgrave isn't as outright hostile and scary as, say, Caelid or Mt. Gelmir, it's a far grimmer and bleaker place than its initial idealistic high-fantasy aesthetics would suggest. And a lot of it has to do with the vile piece of work in charge of the region.

As his sobriquet would imply, Godrick has a thing for grafting. His nasty, misshapen body is made almost entirely of limbs and muscle stolen from innocent people. Stormveil Castle, his seat of power, is stuffed to the brim with mutilated limbs and the corpses of his many victims. Context clues suggest he might even be a cannibal who dines on said limbs and corpses. And then, there are the disturbing implications that Grafted Scions, freaky, shambling, multi-limbed abominations who look worryingly childlike, were other grafting victims that were converted into his personal attack dogs.

But what really effected me most wasn't the disgusting, haunting sight of such a majestic and beautiful castle turned into this freak's slaughterhouse. It was the encounter with Roderika on my way to Stormveil that really made me want to take Godrick down. Apparently, Godrick has people willingly sacrifice themselves to him, with Roderika being one such willing sacrifice who (rightly) got cold feet and bailed, only to shame herself for her "cowardice" since she didn't want to be tortured and mutilated by a psychopath abusing the authority afforded to a man of his station. What the hell did he do to foster this sort of mindset among the general populace?! I couldn't begin to tell you, but it was the friendly chat with that lovable spirit chuner that gave my eventual fight with Godrick personal stakes.

And believe me when I say that killing Godrick was satisfying. Ignoring the fact that he's a disgusting nutcase, his death leads to not one, not even two, but three characters walking away with a happy ending. Nepheli Loux, a compassionate warrior who looks out for the weak and helpless can take the throne if you see her sidequest to the end. Likewise, she has the pompous, yet well-meaning and surprisingly open-minded Kenneth Haight helping her out. And while it may be wishful thinking on my part, I like to think that Gostoc will be less of a shifty (yet lovable) rat bastard now that he's no longer being abused and demeaned by Godrick and has someone as benevolent as Nepheli taking the reins at Stormveil. Killing him is absolutely a net positive for Limgrave, and it makes you feel that there's hope for this barren, broken world yet.

However, for as awful as a person as Godrick is, he's still at the bottom of my top 5 list for one major reason: he's honestly really pathetic. He's an incompetent leader who repeatedly overextended himself with his reckless warmongering, meaning that he has to fill his ranks with criminals and mercenaries due to the loss of so many troops. He's also a coward who has been known to run for his life, hide among civilian women, and beg for mercy after picking fights that he can't win. He's a total laughingstock in-universe, and he knows this. Why else would he be trying so hard to emulate Godfrey, THE Chad Thundercock of the setting? Why else would he convert himself into a clumsy, misshapen freakshow in a misguided attempt at becoming strong? It's pitiful and would be genuinely sad if so many people didn't have to die as a result of his insecurities.

It also helps that for as bad as Godrick is? There are definitely worse people in the Lands Between, both in terms of the scale of their atrocities, and the atrocities themselves...

#hydrox rambles #elden ring #godrick the grafted #rambling about bad guys

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sketching-shark · 2 years

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Why do people defend six eared macaque lol I don’t think he actually deserves to have a redemption arc after everything he’s done in monkie kid and the og novel lol.

WATCH OUT BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO BE MEAN TO A MONKEY ON MAIN but hhhhhh I'm guessing it's partially a result of the current culture-wide obsession with/insistence on redemption arcs no matter what & the way that redemption arcs are increasingly used as a stepping stone to get two characters who hate each other into a romance.

In this particular case I also think Monkie Kid so far only showing Macaque's side of the story in regards to his relationship with Sun Wukong & its depiction of the monkey king as a deeply flawed individual whose actions could easily be interpreted as him just being an unthinking fumbling dumbass who never grew out of his unthinking fumbling dumbass ways also lends itself to fandom-ish tendency to brush aside the bad actions of the blorbo d'jour so that their eventual inclusion into team good guy seems less jarring. Like if Macaque sucks but SWK actually sucks even more then in context Macaque has the moral high ground & as such he can't justifiably be called out for anything by SWK or can't be called out by any other character unless they're also going after the monkey king. And indeed in Monkie Kid we've had SWK get yelled at by many character for being stupid & destructive & I don't remember that ever happening with Macaque outside of Qi Xiaotian's "What's wrong with you?!" after the shadow simian had just uhhhh kidnapped & mind-controlled his loved ones before forcing them to beat up Qi Xiaotian while he watched and laughed (X_X).

I've also seen a number of people argue that Monkie Kid and Journey to the West should be considered two completely different stories and fair enough to some extent (like yea SWK probably shouldn't have the past of smashing tons of humans and yaoguai into "meat patties" in a children's cartoon lol). Buuuuuuut I do suspect that a lot of this stance is about justifying a rewrite so that Macaque could be an innocent monkey before getting involved with SWK rather than dealing with the violence he deliberately chose to inflict on the Mt. Huaguoshan monkeys & SWK himself in the og classic. In addition, I do think that, especially for a western audience, a lot of people simply DON'T KNOW about what the Six Eared Macaque did in Journey to the West. Like I've said before that one of my current favorite parts of being in the online JTTW fandom is seeing people go from "oh people are exaggerating about the monkey king's trauma" to "oh dang actually the monkey really did go through it" after they've read some of Wu Cheng'en's work, but my general sense is that at present many people know about these characters through Monkie Kid more than through Journey to the West, and as such aren't aware of the stuff LEMH pulls or even that his entire thing was making himself SWK's doppelganger in an attempt to murder-replace the monkey king and get all the glory for completing the journey for himself. Any translation of a work often means that a lot of context will be lost, and I think that can be particularly true when you're only aware of/been exposed to a child cartoon manifestation of a character, especially if you don't have access to at least a good translation of the work they originally came from.

ANYWAY those are my general impressions about the matter, and I still maintain that lego show Macaque would be best served by either staying a shifty dude or having a "redemption without forgiveness" narrative arc in which he does decide to become a better person but does so without being forgiven by team monkie for everything he put them through. If anything such an arc might help him start developing into his own character rather than forever remaining the jerk violently obsessed with getting one over the monkey king.

#monkie kid six eared macaque #monkie kid #monkie kid sun wukong #also i think it's funnier if they keep the swk & lemh relationship closer to the og classic of #macaque being viciously envious of the monkey king & the monkey king being like #'jealously is a disease binch get well soon' *bonks you to death*

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andraaste · 2 years

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I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 31

Chapter 31 : You're going to have to take your clothes off

- Princess, you may be incredibly perfect in this outfit, you're going to have to take your clothes off.

I stared at him, literally speechless.

- That I... what ?

And then, what was this sudden new nickname ?

He huffed, as if my question, which was also completely legitimate, irritated him in any way.

- Like I told you, if humans are here, there's a good chance it has something to do with you. I can't leave you in the Crystal Room with the other inhabitants. It would be too dangerous, both for you and for them.

Showing me the clothes and armor lying on the table, he continued :

- Except you're going to have to stay with me. And even though you look... more than gorgeous in that dress, you're going to have to put on something more practical. We have very little time, we'll have to hurry.

I nodded, troubled by the words he used to describe me.

As if, after denigrating himself, he was trying to put me on a pedestal, thus widening the chasm between us, thus proving to himself that he was probably not worth it and that his categorical reaction could only be justified.

But I did not agree with this method.

- Very well, I whispered angrily.

Without further ado, I took off my high heels while leaning on the wooden ledge, thus losing many centimeters. With a kick, I sent them flying under the table and then attacked the many strings in my back that held my dress. Pretending to ignore me, Lance did the same, removing his golden epaulettes and the red scarf that ran along him. His white jacket quickly followed the same trajectory.

All the strings undone, I let the soft fabric slide down my body, revealing my lace underwear. When it hit the ground, I jerked my feet free.

As he fastened the armor on his large chest, I noticed the dragon's eyes drift unwillingly over me, lingering on my curves, igniting a probably involuntary flame in the hollow of his pupils. Then he lowered his head, clearing his throat at the same time with an uncertain movement, before grabbing the paraphernalia placed in front of him.

- What should I wear ? I questioned him.

Hands full, he walked around the table before stopping in front of me, suddenly towering above me. And, for the first time since Falco had interrupted us, he finally met mine.

With an intensity that left me speechless.

Despite the barriers he constantly strove to maintain around him - erecting them as if they were no more than his only lifeline, his only keep out of a chaotic, devastating expanse of water, which would surely take him to his depths if he wasn't careful - I guessed a multitude of emotions when his gaze locked on mine.

His chest heaved, as if he took a deep breath before plunging under the black water, keeping me in suspense. Then, finally, his eyes tore harshly from mine before becoming shifty again.

And my heart seemed to choke.

- It's only a more suitable outfit but a little complicated to put on when you don't know. My teams are already there. With a night like this, it's always best to watch the surroundings, but we need to be in better condition in case of a fight. I don't know how it's outside and I would prefer that you run as little risk as possible.

His voice cracked several times during his tirade, which strangely caressed my ears.

Because he was clearly losing his means...

Following his words, the dragon caught me off guard as he crouched down in front of me, the garment in his hands. I raised my eyebrows in amazement.

- Lance, are you aware that I'm big enough to manage to dress mysel...

But the end of my sentence died on my lips when his fingers, so fresh, curled delicately around my calf. With a sure gesture, he then lifted my leg to help me put on the whole thing. When he had finished taking care of the second, his fingers lingered just behind my knee, caressing perhaps without realizing it the skin so thin there, which gave rise to an irrepressible goosebumps on all my body.

And of course, Lance noticed it.

For a moment his eyes stared at my legs, those turned so white in his large tanned palms, and I thought I could make out a faint smile stretching the corner of his lips before he pushed the soft fabric up my thighs. In the same momentum, he sat up in front of me, stopping the race of his hands just on my hips, touching my stomach.

The dragon then began to tie the garment, circling my body with his arms before pulling the laces over my stomach. Standing so close to me, probably much too close for that matter, I could feel his cold breath on my chest, which was heaving faster and faster.

And I had to admit that its freshness was welcome because, for a few seconds, I was starting to get really hot.

By the Oracle, was Lance aware that the way he dressed me was almost as ambiguous, even somewhat erotic, as the way he undressed me ?

Still, neither of us broke the placid silence we had agreed to, only the sound of laces being pulled echoing through the room. Seeing him take care of me like this took all my attention, so much so that I paid little attention to the small shocks that ran through my skin each time his skilful fingers touched me.

Surprisingly cold discharges, moreover, very different from the usual ones...

His gestures were sure, he knew how to put on this kind of armor in record time. Yet I felt the attention he gave to his task, as he trying not to hurt me. And, maybe I had dreamed it, but I was sure I felt his fingers linger for a moment against my stomach. His thumb caressed my skin in an infinitely soft way at this precise spot, which aroused a new emotion in me.

I couldn't stop my heart from racing. This closeness, just in the wake of his stormy words, made me more than confused and I knew he was too. How were we supposed to behave towards each other after all this, exactly ?

But this distance, it was Lance who had established it, and only him. And despite everything, his words had hurt me deep inside.

So I did nothing. Nothing but watch him carefully.

Eventually, this moment came to an end at some point, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Still walled in a stony silence, Lance had helped me put the top on in record time, probably relieved to have only my eyes to avoid. Within seconds I was covered from top to bottom.

- Alright, we can go, he told me in a hoarse voice, swallowing hard.

This wasn't the time to approach him about this subject, I was well aware of that. Still, my heart sank painfully.

- Above all, don't move away from me and try to always stay in my field of vision.

Still in a daze from this strange moment, I nodded to let him know that I understood.

I had to pull myself together.

The dragon dragged me out of the hall. Hurrying through the awfully quiet market square, we finally arrived at the HQ gardens.

Suddenly, several voices began to sound not far from us. Lance and I exchanged a quick look before sneaking our way to the front gate of HQ.

- Calm down. All we ask is to meet the human. The one you call « Oracle's Chosen ».

I froze in place, bewildered.

How could humans have heard of my existence? Miiko's potion having normally erased me from every memory.

Or else, for that, they had to at least have had real contact with faeries, which wasn't supposed to be the case... right ?

Nevra's voice suddenly rose, calm and thoughtful.

- And what exactly do you want with her, « Oracle's Chosen » ?

He increased his intonation on his last words, repeating the ones they had used. I leaned over to better observe the scene. One of the men, probably the one who had just spoken, raised an eyebrow as he lingered on Nevra, then a weak smile tugged his thin lips.

- We just want to talk to her, nothing more. But you, the vampire, should be more open to helping us meet her... am I wrong ?

That...

What did the man mean by that ?

Despite the very low light, night having fallen for several hours already, I still managed to distinguish the jaw of the said concerned suddenly clenching. Before letting out a weak chuckle.

- You have the eye. I'm indeed a vampire, you're right. But that, it's perhaps by dint of frequenting those of my race, am I wrong ?

Nevra toyed with them, seeming to enjoy deflecting their questions so as not to provide them with a concrete answer. The man didn't even try to hide the gleam of amusement that shone deep in his eyes.

- I cannot refute that the vampires of Yaqut are well known to us, indeed. But I'm still surprised to meet one here, given what they... well, never mind, he cut off with a wave of his hand, as if rejecting any information that he suddenly deemed useless. We are here for a whole other thing and it would not be necessary to linger too long. So, he resumed with a darker air, the human, where is she ?

A shiver suddenly ran through me as his expression had changed. Beside me, I felt Lance tense up as well.

I knew he had to join Nevra but that my presence was holding him back...

- Unfortunately, I don't think it will be possible, resumed the vampire. I don't know what my peers have told you, but know that they're not really known to be trustworthy. So, if you want...

Not letting him finish his sentence, the one who was to be the leader of the group of humans suddenly raised his arms in front of him, immediately followed by all his men, holding a gun firmly in his black-gloved hands directly at Nevra.

- Very well, if we have to go through the hard way, we'll not hesitate...

My blood only boiled.

Escaping Lance's vigilance and no longer answerable for anything, as the anguish had just wrapped around me, I rushed in great strides in the direction of the two men who were now staring at each other, my ears ringing under the violent blows of my already disordered pulse.

- NO, DON'T SHOOT !

The man froze then, the gun still pointed directly at Nevra – who wasn't moving one iota.

- It's me, I continued, totally out of breath from the panic that had swallowed me whole. It's me you're looking for. I am the human, or Oracle's Chosen.

Quickly grabbing my wrist, the vampire breathed through clenched teeth :

- Andraste, what are you playing, here ?

- What about you ? This is a far more dangerous weapon than any you can possess on Eldarya, it could kill you in one shot !

- That's my problem, not yours.

What ?!

An almost sick laugh interrupted us.

- Well, we're here ! You see, it wasn't that complicated, after all.

When I turned to face him, I was surprised to fall directly on a huge back with broad shoulders, totally tense.

- Let's get this straight, Lance growled right in front of me, his voice so ominous that even the man shuddered. At no time do you approach her, is that understood ?

- Ola, calm down, his interlocutor laughs nervously while finally lowering his weapon, raising his hands in the air to prove a feigned innocence. I see that she's not provided without the watchdog that goes with her. But that's okay, she must be pretty valuable.

Suddenly, a bright cold light sounded a little lower, catching my eye. Lance's ice. It was literally pulsing against his palms, wrapping around his long fingers and wrist.

The man couldn't help showing a stunned pout before trying to pull himself together.

- I'm the leader here, so you'll have to speak to me, Nevra intervened, stepping forward, feeling that the dragon's nerves were failing him. And your intervention, in the middle of the night and, what is more, the evening of a special event, is far from proving to me the candid value of your intentions. So, unless you are in a hurry, you will have to start by explaining your motivations to us.

The man glared, as if really annoyed by the turn of events. Then he capitulated, holstered his weapon right at hip level.

- Unfortunately, we're indeed in a hurry. You see, we still can't keep the portals open as long as we'd like, and this conversation is dragging on a little too long for my liking.

Turning to me, catching my gaze despite the two men standing between us, he added :

- Charles sent us, he blurted, his words echoing like a ticking time bomb inside me. He says you'll know who it is. What he wants is to be able to talk to you. On earth.

Then he turned away from my eyes to address the faeries facing him, looking resolute.

- We'll be back in two days, at the same time. And I dare to hope that the beautiful people of Eldarya will be more... inclined, to discuss.

Slowly, the group of men began to retreat, before finally turning their backs on us and disappearing into the forest that bordered the walls of the HQ.

Lance and Nevra didn't move immediately, staring straight at the edge of the trees.

- I have to join Huang Hua to report to her immediately, I'll let you take care of the rest, whispered the vampire in the direction of his second.

Getting ready to leave, he turned his back on him before hesitating for a moment. Finally, he planted a hand on his shoulder to slip him a few last words, much lower.

- We're going to do everything so that nothing happens to her, you know that.

Then he patted him with a friendly gesture.

- Try to pick yourself up.

When Nevra finally walked away, Lance's voice rang out harshly, addressing the Obsidian members all around us.

- Return to your posts immediately. No millimeter of HQ should be overlooked.

Following his order, the entire team then disbands, returning to where they came from. Gradually, the footsteps died away behind us, yet Lance still didn't move, remaining resolutely turned away from me.

This made the uneasiness between us rise.

Not really knowing what to say or do, I waited patiently for him to finally decide to... I don't know, make a gesture, say something ?

Without warning, his hand went up for the umpteenth time of the evening to his face, thus rubbing his eyes with ardor with a tense gesture.

- Fuck... he swore softly. Seriously, what the hell had you got into, jumping right into their trap ?!

Indignant, I felt the anger flowing in my turn. Lance had been angry with me for far too many times in one night.

- They were going to shoot Nevra, I remind you !

Unable to contain himself, he turned quickly to face me, anger rumbling deep in his eyes.

- So what ?! he got even more angry. You were planning to protect him with your body, perhaps ? Nevra is a vampire and one of the best soldiers I know, he would have necessarily managed to get away with it. But you, what would you have done, if they had really shoot ?!

- It was the only way to stop it and you know it ! You don't know humans like I know them, you can't know how treacherous, cold and desperate they are to achieve their goal ! They would inevitably have left a souvenir before leaving, even if it means dropping some of us just for form !

With energy, he painfully grabbed my arm before adding, in a dull, reproachful voice :

- And the baby, have you thought about it ?!

I widened my eyes, caught off guard, expecting anything but those words.

- You're pregnant, damn it ! If you really want to keep it, at least make the effort to take care of yourself ! What if something happened to you, did you think about it ?

- I...

In fact, I was left speechless. What was this weird blackmail Lance was doing to me ? And why was he getting so angry, so worried about something he had made it clear to me that he didn't want ?

It didn't make sense anymore...

Much too annoyed, my anger fell like a breath when I saw once again, his eyes fill with a thousand emotions far too unbearable for one person.

- Lance, I... I'm going to be more careful, I promise you, I said with difficulty. Nothing will... nothing will happen to me and the... baby.

He remained lost in my gaze for several seconds, suddenly seeming on the verge of breaking completely when he realized, with a hint of panic, the virulence with which he had squeezed my arm. When his fingers came loose, a sharp pain came over me at the same time as the trace of his huge hand marked my skin, but it didn't hurt me as much as the look he gave me at that moment.

A look totally horrified, frozen by the dread of his sudden gesture.

- Damn, when I tell you that I can't be a father, Andraste... he choked back.

(Chapter 32)

#eldarya #i am not your enemy #eldarya fanfiction #eldarya fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #eldarya lance fanfiction #Beemoov #otome #eldarya lance #lance eldarya #lance

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