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mizoosis · 1 year

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みんな… おやすみなさい🖤 This is a few days late, but happy second anniversary OMORI! I posted this on Twitter and of course can’t write much, so I'll do the honors here.

TW for talk of mental health, hospitals and self harm. Please move from this post if you are uncomfortable with such topics, for your own sake. Thank you❤

I discovered OMORI in 2014. I saw that little trailer in my recommended as a kid and watched it. I got super inspired by it, but never did much else. 2018 rolled by and I found out about the Kickstarter. I couldn't back it up because y’know, I'm a broke teenager, but I still tried to follow its development until I just lost interest. It's now early 2021. My friends are talking about OMORI and begging me to play or watch it. I eventually caved in and didn't expect anything special. Boy was I wrong. I came into the game completely blind, and experienced everything raw. - The first ending I got was the 'true ending', where Sunny and Basil accept their actions and trauma. I cried so much near the end, especially during the Final Duet (but I'm sure that got most people). I had expected a cheesy rpgmaker horror game but instead I got an experience I will never forget. It's themes stuck with me. I hadn't played a game like it before. A game that accurately represents mental illness, trauma and anxiety. I have been suffering from depression basically since the fourth grade. A lot of bad things happened in my life and I was becoming aware of it. I started to feel down and hopeless, often resorting to sleeping all day, drawing and slipping into my own imagination and disassociating. - I soon realized that this wasn't working, and only felt worse. I'd say around fifth grade was when I started to hurt myself. And I couldn't stop. I slowly fell deeper into my depression as I eventually came to terms with the fact I was a transgender person. The first time I tried ending my life was only a few years ago. That led me to be forced to out myself to my family, which thankfully went well and they pledged to help me transition, which they still do to this day. - Despite being able to transition, I still felt like things were missing. I still felt depressed. I realized that I was suppressing my trauma from years prior to the point of forgetting it. And once I was reminded of it, I spiraled further. That leads to early 2022. I was close to ending my life. I was very close to death. But it failed. I gave up and decided to reach out for help. The day after reaching out I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I would go to two hospitals in the span of almost six months. Those months were some of the worst of my life. But somehow I grew as a person. And as time went on, I improved despite the challenges I faced while inpatient. My head became clearer. Because not only was I taking medication and therapy, but I thought of Sunny. - Yes it's kind of silly that I was inspired by a fictional character but Sunny's recovery and journey through his mental health and trauma pushed me to keep going. And ironically, I eventually met someone there named Sunny who also liked OMORI. We became really close and I think about them often. They were the only person from that horrible hospital that had a positive effect on me. In August of 2022, I was finally released. Shortly after my discharge my family moved across the country at short notice. I once again became depressed, having to leave my old friends and life behind, but I realized by moving, I can start anew. And that's what I've been doing ever since. I'm the happiest I've ever been and I'm about to turn eighteen in a week as of writing this. I never thought I would live to adulthood. - As cheesy as it is, if I never found OMORI I probably wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have been encouraged to get help sooner. I would most likely already have killed myself or ended up in the hospital for hurting myself. As harsh as that is, it is sort of true. This seemingly silly game about a boy dreaming up adventures with his friends has changed my life completely. I'm grateful for the OMOCAT team for working on this game and putting so much love into it. And I love a majority of the community as well. I have met so many kind and creative people through Discord and Twitter. Why am I opening about this on the internet then? I want to show that things do get better. No matter how old you are, no matter how bad things are either. - I used to think I would never make it anywhere but here I am, I have amazing friends, I'm working on passion projects with others and I draw all the time and enjoy it. My drive has improved because of this game. I don't know what I would have done without it. This game means so much to me and so many other people. I can't believe its been two years since it released already. I'm hoping to continue to love it for more years to come. Thanks so much to OMORI and the fandom that loves it so much.

#omori #omori game #omori fanart #omori fandom #omori sunny #omori mari #omori aubrey #omori hero #omori kel #omori second anniversary #mental health #personal vent #vent post #vent tag #artists on tumblr #digital art #art #fanart

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purplechaosguardian · 1 year

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Cyclebreakers

The studio newcomer meets a legend

Audrey had never expected to find a relatively normal looking human down here. Granted, she never thought she would fight monsters made of ink or running and hiding from a demon, or having superpowers, so maybe she’d be better off if she just started bracing herself for the strangest outcomes. Nevertheless, she had to blink hard, just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her, just to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, that there wasn’t a person that was so close, yet so far away, with only a panel of glass between them.

Nope, he still sat on the stool, scribbling away in the notebook, like his life depended on it. Knowing this place, it might very well be.

Audrey cleared her throat, suddenly finding it very dry. “Hello? Sir? Can you help me?” The man turned his head ever so slightly towards her. “You must be really lost if you’re asking me for help.” Despite everything, Audrey had to fight to hold back laughter. If only he even knew half of it. “I’m just looking for answers. About the Keepers. Wilson. The Cycle. Anything could help.” How much do you know about what happened here? How long have you been here? What do you know about Joey Drew?

“What’s your name?” It was the only bit of information about herself the past few hours hasn’t forced her to question. “Audrey. What’s yours?” “Honestly, I’ve almost forgotten.” He placed his notebook on the stool, and Audrey had let out a gasp when she was met with the face of the most tired man she’d ever seen. And she thought she looked exhausted after working all night. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I-.” The man spoke up once more. “Don’t worry about it, I look rough, I know. But as for your question, my name is Henry. Henry Stein.”

“Have you been a prisoner long?” “When the Keepers think you’re a threat to their plans, they lock you away. Forever. Still, it’s given me time to think. Things like: if you haven’t eaten in years, you might not be human. Still, I’d rather it be me than him, although I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore.” Henry smiled, completely deprived of joy or mirth. Audrey couldn’t believe it. Henry was just an old man, she couldn’t imagine that he could be seen as much of a threat to anyone. “Why would you be a threat to them?” Henry came closer to the window. “I’m what they call a Cyclebreaker. Once upon a time, I knew how to start the cycle over. And when that happens, everything begins again. Completely new.” He sighed, out of exhaustion or frustration, Audrey couldn’t tell. “Obviously Wilson and the Keepers don’t want that to happen.”

Resetting the cycle. That may very well be the answer she’s looking for. A chance to start things over, before everything went to hell. A chance to make everything right. “How did you do it?” “Reset the cycle?” Henry pointed to his right. “It turns out, the Ink Demon himself is the key. This world is his, but even he must obey its rules. For now at least. If you can get him to look at something very specific, it will reset everything.” “What is it?” Henry held an ink stained finger up, turning back to the stool and picking up his notebook, drawing as he spoke. “It’s just a reel of film, labeled with the words, ‘The End’.” He held the notebook to the glass for her to see, and Audrey committed every last detail to memory. “I can see it in my mind everyday.” Henry motioned to his left. “They keep it upstairs in the Pit.”

Audrey nodded, filled with determination. “I’ll see if I can break in and steal it. Maybe, if I reset the cycle, we can make things better for everyone here.” Henry stared at her with a look of concern. “And what about you?” God, there were so many things Audrey could say, so many things she wanted, but all that could come out was “I just wanna go home.” Henry nodded, a feeling of solidarity between the two of them. “So did I.” He turned, about to walk back to his seat, but stopped to give her a genuine smile. “Good luck Audrey. If you need me again, you know where to find me.”

He had his back to her once again, and Audrey headed towards the Pit, filled with renewed vigor. She had to bring an end to this. For herself, for Henry and Alice, for Bendy and every other poor soul trapped in this hell with her. She just had to.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #henry stein #henry batim #batim Henry #audrey batdr #batdr audrey #audrey drew

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blouisparadise · 2 years

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Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Accusations Will Get You Everwhere | Teen & Up | 1390 words

Louis started rutting against the inside hem of her pants. She moaned at the feeling of her clit moving against the rough material. She rocked eyes rolling back when she felt a tug on her long brown hair. Her hips stop moving. She looked up, eyes glassy and cheeks a light pink.

“Mm, my little whore couldn’t even wait until mommy got back? Could she?”

Louis shook her head as she continued grinding.

She whined when Harry let go.

“What do you want, baby?”

Louis moaned. “ Want you to fuck me.”

2) I Fall To Pieces When I’m With You | Explicit | 2001 words

Harry fucks his omega good after a long day of work.

3) No One Will Hurt You As Long As I'm Here | Not Rated | 2844 words

Harry was shocked. He wanted to scoop the boy up and tell him he would protect him forever, and no one would ever hurt him again, but he knew it wasn't the time to do that.

Instead, he opened the door for Louis, made small talk, and walked him to the door when they arrived at Louis'.

4) Everyone Thinks That They Know Us (But They Know Nothing) | Explicit | 3660 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

A peek into Harry and Louis’ relationship after the Oscars.

5) Be A Good Baby (Do What I Want) | Explicit | 3758 words

Harry takes care of Louis for the day and ends up fucking the girl on her soft bed.

6) You Make Me Sick | Explicit | 3859 words

Morning sex sounds like the perfect way for Louis and Harry to start their day, if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry has work. He remembers a game from their sex book about faking ill, and soon he’s on the phone while Louis is on Harry’s dick. Harry must keep his boss on the phone for as long as he can stand it while ignoring the sickeningly dirty things his boyfriend is doing to him.

7) Teacher's Pet | Not Rated | 5642 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old omega student who has a crush on Mr Styles, his 37 year old English teacher, who's the most lusted after Alpha of the school. Louis plays with himself in class. Mr Styles gets his rut. Disclaimer: I don't know anything about teaching or teacher's assistants etc. So don't take it too seriously.

8) New York, Send Me Home | Explicit | 6013 words

The stunt is finally over for Harry!

9) Outline Of My Sins | Explicit | 6551 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 453: AU where alpha Harry is an art student who is taking a figure drawing class and omega Louis is the nude model. In the many years that Harry has taken art classes, he has never been more hot and bothered than now, having to stare at a beautiful nude omega model for hours.

10) Take A Ride Into The Danger Zone | Explicit | 7561 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Jensen Ackles.This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You’re so tiny and weak, you could never be anything other than the submissive little pillow princess you are.” Jensen teased, moving Louis’ wrists to hold them with one hand only as he used his now free hand to grab and knead at Louis’ meaty bum, he brought the boy closer so he was sat on top of his bulge.

“I would never know if I’d be good at domming because you never let me try!” The boy whined, squirming in Jensen’s lap, trying to set himself free from his boyfriend’s large hands.

Prompt 227: PWP inspired by Doja’s song “Freak”.

11) I Would Wait Forever (And Ever) | Not Rated | 10002 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is brave but has the worst timing in the world, Harry doesn't want to lose his best friend and they just don't communicate enough.

12) Like A Hurt, Lost, And Blinded Fool | Not Rated | 13919 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

ABO college AU where alpha Harry is a frat boy and he asks omega Louis out multiple times but he rejects him every time because Louis doesn’t like how frat boys act towards omegas. One night at a Halloween party, Harry dresses up as a stormtrooper and keeps his mask on all the time and flirts with Louis and Louis flirts back without knowing that’s Harry under the costume.

13) Blackberries And Cherries | Explicit | 13984 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a witch and Harry is his human friend. When Harry needs help focusing on his schoolwork, the obvious solution is to ask Louis for a potion. You could say things don’t go quite right.

14) Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out | General Audiences | 14263 words

Note: There’s no smut but since it’s omega Louis, it’s been included in this rec list.

Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers

15) Rendezvous | Explicit | 15357 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"Harry's got a date tonight." Zayn greets him.

Louis misses the good old times, when people used to say hello.

"Why's he got a date, Louis?"

Louis has no time for Zayn's nonsense, he's late to crash Harry's date.

He only came here for one thing.

"I need the fur coat." he announces. "No questions asked."

16) Ugly Love | Explicit | 16112 words

The 1860s Au where Louis is a prostitute and Harry's a governor, they both are in love until they aren't.

17) Sweet As Honey | Explicit | 21501 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.

18) Too Slow, Love| Explicit | 21762 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

And Harry is so far out of his mind, staring at his full lips as he continues to sing the lyrics of that song that keeps playing in the back of his mind and Louis needs too much to put his lips on the curly one. And frustration fills his system, because he wants Harry so badly -he's made it clear so many times- and Harry makes no move, gives him no sign even though he wants him too -Louis can feel it in his gaze, in his gentle touch, he can feel it right now-.

He slid his hands down the curly one's chest starting to rise and modulated just for Harry to see: "you're too slow, love."

19) Soapy Lace, Let Me Embrace | Explicit | 26897 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

You know when, in movies, there’s always this character who’s one step away from death? And as it’s nearing they can’t do nothing but pause and relive all of their life, the moments that changed them forever and brought them where they are, as they are. Well, that’s exactly how Louis feels. Feet stuck in place, stunned by the view of what Harry’s holding between his fingers, Louis can’t help but open and close his mouth, wordlessly cursing himself for all the stupid choices he made in his life which led to this moment.

The right words to describe how Louis feels at the sight of his lingerie in the grasp of the last person who needed to see them aren’t written in vocabularies yet.

20) All This Devotion | Explicit | 38047 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

He takes a deep breath. “So this party?” he says, eyes firmly on the road. “I’ll do it, if you want.”

“What?” Louis says, voice quiet beside him.

“I’ll come to your sister's party. It’s going to look weird if I don’t now, right? Like, she’ll wonder what happened.”

“I guess, yeah. You don’t have to though, I get that it’s weird. Pretending to be my alpha, my boyfriend,” the omega says, not understanding what Harry is just now fully realising for the first time.

He wants to be that. More than anything.

21) The Hope Of It All | Explicit | 42336 words

Harry looks gorgeous, just like he always does. He’s wearing his signature black, tight, skinny jeans, a band tee and his varsity basketball jacket. The combination of his perfectly styled hair and the black ray bans over his eyes are enough to make Louis stop the rubbing motions on his arm to just let himself gaze at Harry, eyes dreamy and heart stuttering.

“Take a picture, it would last longer.” Zayn smirks, side eyeing Louis with that annoying, knowing look he gives him every morning when they repeat this same routine.

“Shut up.” Louis groans, ducking his head and rubbing in the last of the lotion. “I wasn’t even staring,” Louis says as his eyes wander back to Harry, where Naomi has now attached herself to his side.

22) Please, Deceive Me | Explicit | 42439 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

After a few minutes, when Harry’s finally settled he says, “Well, I guess you don’t have an explanation for that either?”

“Well, you did follow me of your own accord, I owe you no such thing. I’m a stranger Harry, I could have led you anywhere. I think between the two of us you’re the one who owes me an explanation.” Louis puts his hands on his hips as if to emphasize the point.

Harry looks down, “Well, In my defense, It was a pretty stranger that I followed.”

“Oh Harry, pretty people can be dangerous too, you know.” Louis rolls his eyes but a warm pink still falls over his cheekbones.

23) Chasing The Moment I'm Hoping Is Coming | Mature | 44486 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

For as long as Louis can remember, he’s been obsessed with the idea of love. He’s read countless books about love at first sight and seen way too many Hallmark movies. The idea of a soulmate—someone made just for him—has been something he’s longed for as long as he can remember. It’s always been on his mind, and he’s made up countless scenarios for who they are or what they do, taking inspiration from literature. His mom fills in the rest of the blanks; he’s heard many stories about a wide-eyed, toddler-Louis staring at movie after movie, begging for just one more because he was so enraptured by romance. As he grew up, his tastes changed, of course; he’s branched out to fantasy, action, and even horror movies as well, but there’s always something about romance that he comes back to. So many tales of love have been told, retold over the years that Louis is nearly positive he’ll be swept off his feet. However, there’s one teensy little kink in his plan.

He’s single.

24) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55778 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

In spite of wanting to sound lucid and coherent for his own big jump, Harry wants to be near and touch, wants to listen to whatever the omega’s saying because he loves that voice, and he's always hated talking unless he has to. They're a good pair, the two of them, a perfect balance. Louis’ all sunshine, good vibes and healthy eating, lingering hugs and sticky cheek kisses, and Harry's the complete opposite without explanation, but fuck, it feels good to be around someone like that. To have someone like that in his life at all.

Harry wants to protect his affectionate ball of light from the world's ignorance, wants to help add to the glow like starting a snowball, rolling it around until it can’t get off the ground because it’s so heavy from all the effort, patience and commitment.

25) Satellite | Explicit | 78422 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a hardworking, dedicated, loving single mum with no interest other than making his son happy, and who thinks that love will never knock on his door again. Harry is a lone man, successful in his field, and thinks he has his life together and all figured out. Wrong meets clueless, lives get turned upside down in the best way possible with the help of a cute and curious little boy, who just wants to learn more and more.

26) The Rose of Whitechapel | Mature | 100181 words

Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended...

A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

27) Only You And Me | Not Rated | 109836 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Louis goes on with his life after Harry, he hopes Harry comes back to him but is also on the search for something new. Will Harry reach out to Louis, or will Louis get over him and find something better?

28) How Many Times Will It Take (To Get This Right) | Explicit | 157805 words

Harry was watching her go, unable to meet Louis’ eyes again now that they were alone, and that’s how he saw him when the young boy leaned around Jay to peer at his mum and Harry. Harry’s jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in disbelief when two green orbs identical to his own found him and stared unwaveringly calm into Harry’s sunglasses-covered face. His small features were undeniably close to Louis’. Their noses, their lips, even their brow line was the same, but the pup’s eyes were an eerily familiar shade of emerald, and much rounder than Louis’. His hair fell in dark ringlets around his small face, which was also much too round to really say the child looked like Louis, despite the similar features. Harry sputtered when his alpha roared in his chest that Harry should follow the kid--should protect his pup. But there was no fucking way.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #monthly fic recs

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maplecaster · 5 months

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i dreamt that there was this mansion that was also a school, actually this was a recurring dream. i had the power to speak to “lost children”, kids that have been forgotten by time and space. there was this series of rooms where each one was a trial, and within each trial i would save a lost child by remembering them. they would be a ghost, and then i’d have the power to resurrect them fully once i complete the whole thing.

here’s an example. one child was a 7 year old girl, i think she was the youngest out of them all. she played the viola and in her room was a viola bow, a small piano keyboard, and some sheet music inside a drawer. you had to play what was written, but i couldn’t read the sheet music.

one of my pursuers, i forgot why they were chasing me but they were akin to bullies. i locked the door to the trial room and they teased me by pulling out a viola and playing a scale upwards. on the last note, they played the wrong note, and i knew that they did it on purpose, and that the girl played the same exact wrong note. in fact, playing that was the answer to the trial and i could move on, but they did it maliciously. they told me they wish they had her real viola so they could smash it, and when they saw i had her bow they tried to take it.

before i left the room, i saw the girl’s ghost. as i did with all the other children, i asked what her name was. ofc i dont remember it now but they were all japanese.

the next trial was the last one, and actually this one didn’t have a lost child because it was a repeat of the first child. also a girl, maybe around 10 years? i was able to communicate with her regularly through cryptic drawings that appeared on my phone. i got really stuck on what to do in this room. i asked her if we should leave before finishing (as i said it was a recurring dream, so canonically i kept leaving and coming back) and a drawing appeared of a large tree with children surrounding it. some of its branches were red and bent towards one child, the one i was speaking to, going inside her face. i figured this meant i should stay, but then i saw a new drawing which i mostly forgot by now. the next one i saw was the girl standing at the edge of a windswept cliff, a door behind her open with the other lost children coming through it. it was one of those magic doors where it was just a frame and a door, no wall, but it still lead somewhere. i interpreted this as that this was the last trial (i didnt know that before seeing the drawing)

the room was the size of a storage closet with some stuff wrapped in plastic near the far wall. i ripped open the plastic, hoping for a doorway to come, but there was nothing. btw i havent mentioned them yet but there were like 2 people with me and one of them was able to figure it out while i was stuck. he told me he said a little poem, the fifth line being “open the mansion of new york city.” now, nyc isn’t a mansion but its big and theres a lot of space so it counted. when he said that the plastic i ripped open became a portal to nyc. i figured if that counted as a mansion, and this portal can only be opened to mansions, i thought to try “open the mansion of your mind”. i dont remember the full poem, maybe it didnt even contain real words lol. it worked, and i went through the portal, but i wasn’t in the lost child’s mind, i was in a car of a teacher. the same teacher that set me on this quest. he thanked me and told me to remember all of the children. as i remembered their names, they each emerged from the same spot as me and my group did, no longer ghosts. it was really sweet ok.

#dream journal

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

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The Way Home - Chapter 16

A fresh start. That’s what she needed. Not the turn of a page, or a new chapter, but a brand new book.

She left everything behind, and just hoped that she had better things ahead.

A Hotchniss College AU

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: This chapter contains canon typical violence and references to Aaron's childhood.

Full list of warnings and previous chapters can be found on the Series Master List

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You know, you’re technically supposed to read during Reading Period.”

Emily opens her eyes and shifts so she’s looking directly up at her boyfriend, her head in his lap. He’s smiling down at her, one of his study books in one hand, with his other hand buried in her hair. She narrows her eyes at him in jest, reaching up to poke him in the cheek.

“Leave me alone, I had an exam today.”

Aaron smiles at her, his dimples carving deep marks in his cheeks. “And you have one tomorrow.”

She groans as she curls towards him, her forehead against his stomach, “Don’t remind me.”

Aaron chuckles, his hand cupping the back of her head as he looks down at her adoringly. She couldn’t believe she’d ever worried he would judge her for her past. In the three days since she’d told him, explained why she had started to pull away from him, he’d barely left their side. Even though they were both in the middle of their finals, for him his last ever finals of law school, he’d stayed with her. Studied with her. An adoring look on his face the whole time.

Emily doesn’t remember the last time she had felt so content, and she had never felt closer to admitting to him that she loved him. Her bravery lost every time she came close.

“I’d like to take you on a date,” he says, drawing her attention back to him, and she smiles up at him curiously, “It’s been a while, that's all.”

“You don’t have to take me on a date, Aaron,” she replies softly, “We already spend all of our time together.”

“I want to,” he says, briefly putting his book down entirely, his attention completely removed from criminal law, “We deserve to have fun.”

“We both have exams all week.”

“Saturday then?” He offers, raising his eyebrow at her. “We could go to the movies, make out in the back row.”

She feels her smile widen, and she bites her lower lip to try and control it. “Saturday it is.”

He raises her hand to kiss her knuckles before picking his book up again, his spare hand going back to playing with her hair. She closes her eyes and lets the feeling lull her to sleep.

Aaron made her feel safe, his mere presence something that soothed her soul. Made her happier than she ever remembered being. He had never tried to fix her, to mould her into something he thought she should be, but merely accepted her for who she was.

He loved her for it, even though he had never said the words out loud. She couldn’t blame him for it, because she hadn’t said it either - not when he could hear her.

She looks up at him and smiles at the look of concentration on his face as he goes back to reading his book, his spare hand mindlessly moving through her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp. It makes her love him even more, that he was looking after her, letting her know he was there, without even really meaning to. The action was so natural to him that it came with ease.

He made her feel safe.

Safe enough that she almost let herself forget about the danger that lingered just around the corner.

___

“Next time, I’m picking the movie,” Emily says, a wide smile on her face as Aaron raises an eyebrow at her. She unhooks her hand from his, just to loop her arm through his, leaning into his side as they continue to walk, only a few blocks from their apartment building.

“And what was wrong with it?”

“Apart from the fact you were gawking at Uma Therman the whole time?” She teases, laughing when he stops them on the street, his hands on her hips.

“I think you’ll find, I was actually making out with you the whole time.”

Emily smiles at him and it’s lost in the kiss he pulls her into. She sighs as she settles into the familiar kiss, something that had become commonplace in her life but still lit a fire in her belly every time. She moans as he deepens the kiss, licking across the seam of her lips as she opens them without hesitance. He pulls her closer, holding her tight against him, his hands firm on her lower back.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against her lips, barely breaking apart to draw breath or speak.

“Let’s go home,” she replies, kissing him again, not wanting to be apart from him even for a second. It briefly crosses her mind that she doesn’t know if she means her apartment or his.

It felt ridiculous, sentimental even, that home for her was wherever he was.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. To love someone so much, to be so certain about it after such a relatively short period of time in a lifetime of uncertainty.

She pulls back from the kiss, her hands grasping at the lapels of his coat. She smiles at him, kissing him quickly again before she moves back just enough that she can speak, her breath skipping over his lips, her nose pressing into his cheek.

It was time to be brave, to tell him the words she’d been swallowing back for weeks.

“Aaron, I l-”

“Hello, love.” A voice sneers from behind her, rendering her speechless, as if his hand was a vice around her throat.

Aaron notices it too, her warning from weeks ago that Ian was Irish still in his mind, the accent making him react similarly, his hold on her tightening as he looks past her to see the man he had once seen following her on campus. Emily turns to see Ian standing behind them, a sneering smile on his face that turns her stomach, making her chest seize.

Aaron steps in front of her, something that makes Ian chuckle, and Emily holds Aaron’s hand tightly, seeking out the comfort only he could provide.

“Leave her alone,” Aaron says, his voice stern in a way she’d never heard him before, “or we’ll call the police.”

Ian chuckles again, taking a couple of steps towards them, “And tell them what, exactly? That I’m just standing here in the street?” He looks past Aaron to Emily, his eye blue eyes settling on her, “There’s nothing to stop me from doing that.”

“Ian, don’t do anything stupid,” Emily says, grateful her voice doesn’t shake, that she doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Stupid?” He sneers, tilting his head at her, “Like telling my girl you were my whore.”

The insult doesn’t shock her, it was something he’d yelled at her more than once in the lead-up to him breaking into her old apartment, but it doesn’t stop the way it hurts. His cruel rewriting of their history, even though when she looked back at it now she saw it for what it really had been. He’d used her, said all the right things again and again until she ignored the signs retrospect made as clear as day.

“Don’t call-”

“I didn’t tell her,” Emily says, cutting off Aaron’s defense of her, her hand squeezing his even tighter, a silent plea to let her handle it that he abides by, “I didn’t even know she existed and as soon as I did I broke up with you. I don’t know how she found out about me.”

“Just because you got your mother to do your dirty work doesn’t mean you’re innocent, love.”

She freezes again, her shock making her voice shake this time. “Wha…what?”

“That posh bitch mother of yours came to see Chloe,” he talks a step closer to them, and Aaron takes one backwards, taking her with him, “told her all about us. Then she left and took my fucking son with her.”

She sighs, fury at her mother building in her chest, competing with the fear already residing there to stop her from drawing in breath altogether. It all finally makes sense. The lack of judgement from her mother when everything went wrong, the offer of help that came free of any comment. The fact she’d paid to help Emily move and start again.

It was guilt.

“I didn’t know,” Emily says, her voice firm, “Just leave us alone Ian, we should both be allowed to move on.”

“Move on?” He shouts, “Because of your stunt with the restraining order I’m not allowed to see my boy at all.”

She sees the fury on his face, and how he steps forward, but Aaron intervenes, his hand firm on Ian’s chest as he pushes him backwards.

“Stay away from her,” Aaron says through his teeth, putting more space between them as he wraps his arm through hers, attempting to guide her past Ian.

It happens so fast that later she’ll realise it only lasted a matter of seconds, but time slows down as Ian grabs at her wrist, yanking her back towards him in a way that hurts, making her yell out as she feels the bones shift beneath her skin.

Aaron separates himself from her for the first time since Ian had approached them, shoving the other man hard enough that he lets go of her.

“I said fucking stay away from her.” He seethes his fist in Ian’s jacket, the other man sneering at him.

“Aaron, lets just-”

“She has a way about her, doesn’t she?” Ian says, cutting over Emily’s attempt to get Aaron’s attention, her wrist cradled in her good hand. “She draws you in. Tell me, does she still-”

Ian’s words are cut off by Aaron punching him in the face, his fist connecting with his cheek. Ian is dazed for a moment before he returns the hit, catching Aaron’s left eye.

“For fuck sake, Aaron. Stop it.” Emily shouts, and it breaks through, enough for her boyfriend to turn to look at her, his eyes meeting hers as Ian hits him again.

It takes the sound of a distant police siren to snap Ian out of his fury, his eyes meeting hers as he steps away.

“This isn’t over, love.”

He disappears almost as quickly as he appeared, the sound of the sirens getting closer.

“Someone must have called the cops,” Aaron says, leaning against the wall as he looks a little dazed, “We’ll have to tell them as much as we can.”

Emily nods and makes it over to him, cupping his face with her good hand, wincing at the swelling she could already see appearing on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron attempts to smile at her, his dimple not visible because of the swelling. “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart.”

She wishes she could believe him.

___

Emily is sitting in bed, her hair damp at her shoulders, wet patches on a t-shirt that had once belonged to Aaron.

They’d been to the hospital, the police officer who had taken their statements insistent that they were both checked over. Aaron had a fractured cheekbone, and his knuckles were bruised. Her wrist was sprained, in a temporary splint to immobilise it as it healed.

Aaron hadn’t left her alone for a second in the hospital, meaning that they had to be cared for side by side, a slight haggard looking nurse just leaving them to it, later discharging them with their aftercare instructions.

She hears the shower stop from inside Aaron’s bathroom, and she blows out a slow breath, unsure how to face him now she’d had some time to herself. This was the second time he’d been hurt because of Ian, because of her. It hurt, throbbing in her chest in a way that was not unlike the pain in her wrist.

She loved him, but she wasn’t sure that she was good for him.

“Sweetheart?”

She looks up, the bruising on his face making her chest seize again. “Hi,” she rasps out, “how are you feeling?”

“Better for showering,” he replies, walking over to the bed and sitting next to her, “the smell of hospital really does linger.”

She chuckles half-heartedly, the sound dying in her throat, “Aaron…”

“If you apologise again, I won’t make you breakfast,” he smiles at her, cupping her cheek, “pancake breakfasts-”

“Are only for people who don’t blame themselves for other people's actions,” she finishes for him, remembering the first time he’d said it to her on her birthday. Months ago when she didn’t know just how precious to her he would become.

He leans over to the bedside table on her side of the bed, and grabs the brush she keeps there, his hands at her shoulders as he encourages her to turn so her back is to him.

“I’ll do your hair,” he says, gently brushing it for her before she can say anything, “I learnt to braid Haley’s hair when she was pregnant.”

She huffs out a noise she’s sure was meant to be a laugh, “A man of many talents,” she swallows thickly, closing her eyes as he runs his fingers through her hair, dividing it up into sections, “Aaron…”

“They’ll find him, Em,” he says, somehow aware of what she was going to say, as in tune with her as she was with him, “We gave them his information, everything we knew. They’ll find him, and he won’t hurt you again.”

“I’m more worried about him hurting you,” she replies without meaning to say it out loud, sighing when she feels him tense behind her.

He doesn’t say anything as he ties off the end of her braid, flicking it over her shoulder as he gently pulls her back, his chest pressing up against her, his arms tight around her.

“I’m sorry, Em.”

It makes her frown, tilting her head back to look at him. She sees the way he is clenching his jaw, a ghost of something in his eyes she’d only seen a couple of times before.

“What for?” She asks, raising her good hand to cup his neck, her thumb at his jawline, trying to ease some of the tension there.

“For reacting,” he says, clearing his throat, “for hitting him,” he shakes his head at himself, “I shouldn’t have.”

Her frown deepens and she turns so she can look at him properly, “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she soothes him, “you were trying to protect me.”

“I always tell Jack we should never put our hands on other people,” he says, as if she hadn’t spoken, as if he wasn’t even really aware he was talking, “I never wanted to be…” he drifts off, clearing his throat again as he looks at her, the sadness still present in his eyes, “my father was a violent man, I always told myself I’d never be like him.”

She closes her eyes and sighs as it all settles into place, comments he’d made, things she’d witnessed over their time together. Fitting together like pieces of a grim puzzle, letting her see the final picture of the man she loves.

“You’re nothing like him, baby,” she says, the term of endearment slipping out without her meaning it to, “nothing at all.” She can see he doesn’t believe her, and she kisses him gently, still so aware of his injuries. “Jack worships you, and you’ve never made me feel anything other than lo-” she cuts herself off, her smile wavering, not wanting to say it now, to tarnish it with this memory, “safe. You make me feel safe.”

He looks at her and nods, releasing a breath she thinks he might have been holding for years. He kisses her quickly.

“We should try and get some sleep.”

She nods and lets him guide her to lie down. She settles right up against him, soaking in the warmth that always flowed off of him. He hugs her tightly, his lips against her forehead as they curl up together, seeking comfort from each other.

“Everything will be ok, sweetheart,” he assures her, and it takes all of her strength to not burst into tears.

She turns her face so her forehead is pressing into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, taking as much of him as she could, so she could remember what it was like to be with him.

“Yeah,” she says, hoping he takes the shake in her voice to be a reaction to the events of the evening, “everything will be ok.”

She’d make sure of it.

She’d let him go.

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner

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avitus-ostrander · 11 months

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5 comfort characters & 5 tags

Thank you @sonderlativ for the tag

#1 - Varis zos Galvus (Final Fantasy XIV)

Many of my favorite characters are not necessarily comforting. I do not handle character death exceptionally well. After being brutally emotionally tortured by Blizzard for years as they slowly and agonizingly character assassinated and killed off a character I loved (who at the time was a comfort character, helping me recover from another character death), I was left unable to get attached to anyone.

Enter Varis.

I remember finishing the ARR MSQ and seeing him show up and thinking “ooh the new emperor is really attractive…” and that was kind of fun. I hadn’t experienced that sort of instant pull to a character in quite some time. It still took an act of will to allow myself to actually get attached to him. And then, after some agonizing, I decided to ship my player character, Aurelien, with him. This was the most self-indulgent thing I had ever allowed myself to do.

He also got me back into drawing after a multi-year hiatus. If anyone wants to see some random shipping pics, they can be found here.

He’s a serious, dedicated, deeply flawed person, and I love him immensely. Also, his relationship with my OC is possibly the only ‘healthy’ relationship I have ever written.

#2 - Millions Knives (Trigun)

This will come as a surprise to (probably) no one who is following me here.

So I’d been having a pretty difficult time and was struggling a lot. I’d pretty much given up on being alive and was just mindlessly counting down the days.

Then my best friend suggested we give Trigun Stampede a try. I was skeptical, because reboots often burn me and Trigun was something I loved from my childhood, but I figured if it sucked we could hit the bricks.

When Knives showed up and announced his presence by playing the piano, I completely lost my mind. I instantly felt something I had not felt in SO LONG. I regained the will to live. I felt EXCITED to be alive again.

I really tried to fight it for a few days, but I couldn’t. I gave myself an undercut. I smiled uncontrollably at any mention of anything even tangentially related to him. Hearing a single note from a piano made me feel like I was going to faint from joy. Finally, I confessed to my best friend that I was deeply obsessed.

The reason he does not make the number 1 spot is because this fixation has come with some serious emotional upheaval, as I evaluate some of my unresolved issues that I see reflected in him. And also, Varis is such a minor character that I just didn’t see that much negativity about him. Knives is in the spotlight a lot more, so it can be more challenging to just casually indulge without running into people who hate him.

No one has to like him and I can see why some people wouldn’t, but he brought me back to life and sometimes I just want to be able to feel happy about that.

[Honorable mention here goes to Legato for helping me through my Knives-based angst when it comes around. He was my favorite from Trigun in my youth and one of two characters I built a character shrine for (if anyone remembers those).]

# 3 - Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

This one is a bit more obscure in its reasoning. Levi was actually my favorite character in Attack on Titan, but I wrote this figure skating/hockey AU where Erwin is arguably the best figure skater in the world and, just before he can prove this in competition, he gets injured and has to give up his dream.

Years later, a bitter and aimless Erwin discovers Levi, who is participating in underground murder hockey tournaments, and decides to take him under his wing. Erwin regains his sense of purpose. Levi stops risking life and limb on a daily basis. And I got insanely attached to Erwin while working on this crazy AU.

There was a comic I was working on for the prologue for it, but I only got 3 and a half pages in, because I couldn’t figure out how to render the climactic scene. (for those interested: pg 1, pg 2, pg 3)

#4 - Yuri Plisetsky (Yuri!!! on Ice)

I swear I don’t exclusively like angry blondes…

But I might (almost) exclusively have them as comfort characters.

Yuri on Ice is in general one of my comfort shows. I’ve loved figure skating since forever, so an anime about figure skating was a dream come true! It doesn’t hurt that the main characters are adorable.

But this mega grouch was my favorite. He is angry and standoffish, but really soft on the inside. And he’s an incredible skater. What more could I ask for?

(Everyone should brace themselves for the potential that everyone on this list will be drawn skating at some point, if they haven’t been already)

#5 - Malokh Skullsplitter & Auralion Duskwither (World of Warcraft)

So these two are OCs. As such, I don’t have any great color pictures of them. I started coloring this one, but it’s stuck on a tablet that needs fixing. All of my other pictures of these two are even more outdated, so this will have to do.

I haven’t played WoW in ages and am not sure I ever will again, but I still love my characters dearly.

Aura is a Blood Elf shadow priest. Malokh is an Orc warrior.

Anyway, Auralion has been my absolute favorite OC for about… 13+ years now? Like everyone else on this list, he is an angry blonde. He’s also a (very slightly) older twin. When I don’t have a current obsession, I draw/write stuff about him. This is not his proper hair. This is his hair growing back after he was nearly incinerated. Here is a picture of how his hair normally looks.

While Aura embodies a lot of my struggles and I channel a lot of my angst into him, Malokh embodies a lot of the things I feel like I need. It’s about to get kind of personal here so feel free to skip to the end…

As a little kid, I had the misfortune of simultaneously finding out that death was a thing and that it could be violent and terrible, and I never felt safe again. My parents comforted me by telling me that I was not important enough to murder, and my takeaway was “these people won’t and can’t defend me.” So I decided I would be the person to defend the family. I became a very aggressive, very cruel person because I didn’t feel safe unless I was the worst person in the room.

But really, all I wanted was for someone to say they would protect me.

Malokh embodies all the things I wanted as a kid. He is fiercely loyal, compassionate, intelligent, patient, and he would absolutely wreck anyone who threatened the people he loves.

I have loved orcs since I was a little kid and first played the original Warcraft RTS game. There was something very comforting to me about being so big and strong that you didn’t really have to be afraid of humans.

I ship him and Aura in the red quadrant (because I do Homestuck style shipping for some of my OCs).

And Malokh has black hair, so he breaks the pattern!

Anyway, tagging: @skuppycake, @dragonofeternal, @evilgeometry, @setsuntamew, @arahith

No pressure if anyone does not want to do this or doesn’t have time! I tried to message everyone to make sure it was okay, but I am not sure if all of the messages got through. I was getting a lot of ‘message not sent’ errors and lately when I try to comment on posts it takes multiple tries for anything to show up.

#5 comfort characters tag thing #Not going to tag anyone mentioned because it would not be useful for anyone in the tags #I want to reiterate that this isn't necessarily an ordered list of favorite characters - just comfort characters #There are some characters I am deeply attached to that did not make this list. It was a tough decision.

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abbatoirablaze · 1 year

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Tig's Daughter, Chapter 8

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: angst, gun violence, mentions of sleeping around, character death.

“I’m still mad at you.”

He smiled as I threw some of my popcorn at him. I giggled when he tried to catch it, his arms wrapping low on my waist, “Eddie…”

“I’m glad your dad let you out tonight,” he said seriously. My heart fluttered as I felt lost in the moment, lost in his sweet look as his thumb grazed over my hip, “Alex…”

I got lost in his eyes, just staring at him, completely content with life, “I don’t want these moments to end, Eddie…”

“They won’t.”

“Come on sweetheart, we gotta go in.”

My heart ached as I looked at the funeral home, my body freezing in its place, not allowing me to move, “I-I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, come on.”

“I can’t go in there, dad,” I whimpered pathetically, giving him a look, “d-don’t make me go in there…”

“Pretend that he’s not even there baby…” my dad whispered against my temple, before pressing a firm kiss to it, “coffin’s gonna be closed. You won’t even see him.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not in it though,” I whimpered again, “I-I know he’s gone dad. He’s not ever coming back.”

My heart raced as my body trembled beneath his. I arched my back, my chest reaching forward and meeting his lips as they caressed my curves, “Eddie…”

“I got you, Alex,” he whispered gently, pressing another series of wet kisses over my breasts. I gasped when his tongue laved over one of my nipples. His arm held me firmly against him as his hips never faltered, “Fuck…”

I felt my walls clenching down around him as we both reached our highs. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut to ride the wave of pleasure, but I couldn’t tear myself away from his gorgeous orbs. He stopped peppering my chest in kisses, instead choosing to capture my lips.

I swallowed his moans as his balls tightened and I felt his warmth spreading throughout me.

My steps sounded hollow.

I felt hollow as I made my way through the funeral home.

There was a place for everything.

Old ex-military members that were friends with him had come. But a majority of the people were from the club. They had come from other chapters to worship the ground that the prospect had walked on.

He was a hero in their eyes.

He died for the club.

He died trying to protect the vp’s kid against that Irish bastard.

I felt tears sliding down my cheeks as my dad led me to the main room. My breath hitched when I saw the coffin. It had trinkets on top of it. A kutte. His kutte. My heart ached even more when I saw that the prospect patch had been ripped off and in it’s place it read ‘redwood original.’

“One day I’m going to be a full-fledged member,” he smirked. I giggled lightly from his chest, my fingers drawing little shapes across the expanse peppered lightly with chest hair. He gave me a look, his features puckering together ever so slightly, “what? You don’t think I’m going to be a member one day?”

“Oh, I know you are,” I smiled, leaning into him, “and when you do, I’m going to be your old lady…”

“What are you talking about baby,” he chuckled, his hands tucking themselves underneath of my chin, “you’re already my old lady.”

“Things you should never say to an eighteen-year-old.”

He laughed, his grin breaking free, “what? You don’t wanna be my old lady?”

“I’m eighteen, Eddie. I don’t want to be called an old lady in general.”

“Fine…you’re my girlfriend,” he conceded, “better?”

“Much…”

“I-I have to go,” I said quickly, pushing myself from my father’s grasp, “I-I can’t be here, dad. I’m sorry.”

“Alex…wait.”

I could hear the smallest of footfalls behind me as I bound out of the funeral home.

“It’s raining…you shouldn’t be up here.”

“Fuck off, Kip.”

He frowned, looking between me and the bottle of liquor, I’d pulled from downstairs, “did something happen?”

“Who the fuck is she?”

His brow furrowed, “what?”

“The chick from Nevada,” I growled, taking another long pull from the bottle, only to cringe at the taste of it, “who the hell is she and why is she here? I know she didn’t come for Clay. Everyone knows Gemma, and she wouldn’t risk being murdered by her.”

“She doesn’t mean anything, Alex.”

My gaze flickered to his, “she followed you from Nevada, Kip.”

“Stop calling me Kip,” he frowned, “I hate when you call me that…it makes me feel like I did something wrong.”

“You cheated on me.”

“I never cheated on you…I would never-“

“BULLSHIT!” I yelled, throwing the bottle of liquor down as I stood up, “That’s fucking bullshit Kip. Why would she follow you if-“

“She came on to me and I told her to back off!” he said quickly, “she’s trying to become an old lady by any means necessary, okay? She came onto me, and Clay saw it so he fucked her. She came for Clay, but Gemma broke her damn nose, Alex. I don’t love her. I don’t even care about her though. There’s only one woman I love in this world and she’s standing in front of me.”

“Y-you love me?”

The look on his face made my heart hurt. He looked like my question had been a knife and I’d been the one to stab him, “of course I love you, Alex. I wanna marry you one day.”

“ALEX!”

I didn’t bother looking behind myself.

A van had stopped in front of me, and the door slid open. I was so lost in my thoughts that the fact that he was in all black and had his face covered didn’t set off any warning bells.

I could hear the screams behind myself as the man’s gun came into view.

The heavy footfalls that had to be my dads behind me as he tried to make his way towards me in time.

And it all seemed to go in slow motion as the first bullet left the chamber.

I fell to the ground because of the blowback.

My head hit the cement behind me.

But it didn’t hurt.

I didn’t feel any pain.

I only felt a warmth in my belly that exploded outwards, encouraging me to close my eyes and sleep it all off.

#sons of anarchy season 1 #sons of anarchy season 2 #sons of anarchy #tigs daughter #soa tig #tig trager #alexander trager #soa half sack #half sack #eddie epps #kip #motorcycle clubs #motorcycle #mc #charming

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screechthemighty · 1 year

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God of War fic posting time! Ignore what time it is, shh, don't worry about it. AO3 link will be in a reblog, full chapter below!

rose colored boy: part three

There were rumors that Thor had been spotted in the area, which meant a lot more people in the Mountain than usual. Faye would have gone to see for herself, but two things stopped her. One: she had promised she wasn’t going to try and fight Thor, and she was self-aware enough to know she might break that promise if she saw the bastard.

Tow: the mountain’s volunteer guards wouldn’t let her leave anyway. They didn’t try to restrain her, but their quiet pleas were enough to guilt her into staying.

Please. We can’t afford to lose anyone else. We don’t want to make things worse.

So Faye stayed. She tried not to think about things too hard, though it was difficult. Her mind kept racing to the fact that he was just…out there. Maybe he was hurting someone else. Had anyone warned the settlements just out of reach? They must have tried, right?

Stop it. What do you think you’re going to do, Faye? Fight the god of thunder with just your bow? It would be stupid and she knew it.

That awareness didn’t soothe her restless energy. She couldn’t focus long enough to draw or tend to her weapons, so she went for a walk, hoping the movement would calm her down.

She was deep in the Mountain when she heard the music.

Something about the tunnels made the already mournful tune even more so. Faye was transfixed, despite the ache the sound created in her chest. She followed it to the source: a little stage carved into the stone, with people seated on the floor in front of it in close huddles. Amund was playing while a different giant sang in a deep, soothing voice.

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku…

She had heard the song a few times before. It had always been so solemn for a lullabye, but she couldn’t make herself move away. Faye sat down on the edge of the crowd and closed her eyes.

Hraktir í útlegð hreimn…

It was the first thing she’d been able to focus on that wasn’t her racing thoughts. The stage was well-placed, enhancing the sound of the music. The audience was completely silent as they listened. It felt like everyone had come here not to think, to just follow the feeling of the music and feel some peace.

It was working.

Jötnar ei guðir né dauðlegir…

And it was that togetherness that really helped. It reminded her why she’d come here. For her people. So that they could be safe, sing their songs in their halls, be together. The circumstances weren’t perfect, but this was how it should be.

Til fjall í Jötunheim…

It was almost a kind of rebellion, really.

The two men on the stage kept performing, song after song. Faye lost track of time; she only realized that it must have been late when they stopped performing. The crowds started leaving, but Faye lingered, hoping to speak to Amund. He caught sight of her as he gathered up his instrument, grinned, and waved. Faye waved back.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” he said as he walked closer.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” Faye said. “I didn’t even know this place was here at all.”

“Oh, it’s a little out of the way, I know. And we can’t perform all the time, there’s…” He gestured down one tunnel. “...still a lot of digging that way, people coming and going with carts and stuff. But we play when we can. It’s really…” He looked around. “I don’t know. There’s just something special about here.”

Faye nodded in agreement. “How often is when we can?” she asked.

“Why, thinking of coming back?”

She nodded again, and she meant it. If coming out here meant she could relax…it would be good for her, she thought. “I’d love to hear you perform. You’re really good. And your friend, too.”

Amund looked taken aback, then flattered. “I’m…glad to hear that. Uhm, I can…try to let you know if I see you around? It’s usually once a week.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.” She glanced at the other giant and waved. He waved back, though she got the distinct feeling he was trying not to eavesdrop. “Well, I won’t keep you…”

She thought he was going to protest, but he only said his goodnights and watched her walk away.

Funny thing was, she didn’t think she would have needed much convincing to keep talking.

She went to as many of his performances as she could after that night. It was something to look forward to beyond the hardships of her day to day, a distraction from her fears and worries that actually worked. She found the perfect place to sit, towards the edge of the crowd, where the music seemed to hit her ears just right, closed her eyes, and listened.

It was a blessing to have that kind of calm. To have someplace where she could relax. There was so much happening outside of the mountain, more threats that she’d ever realized while she was living in Jötunheim. But here?

Everything was fine.

She and Amund talked after most performances, unless she was so tired that she had to leave early. He was interesting. Even as they talked more, he never turned into that stereotype of musicians that Ruvik had always warned her about. He wasn’t overconfident (not self-sabotaging, either, which she appreciated), but he was funny. And he was willing to put up with her when she started rambling, which was more than she could say for a lot of people. Sometimes his fellow performers watched their interactions with interest. It took her a few conversations to start thinking anything of it. At first she wondered if they’d heard of her, but when she thought about it a little longer…

They think something’s happening here. Or might happen.

She remembered how Amund had looked at her that day in the cave. He hadn’t quite looked at her that way since, but he was also excited to see her. He was never forceful about anything…perhaps he only wanted a friend, but also thought she was beautiful. That…could happen, right?

Damn it, she wasn’t sure. Most of the time, when men opened with a compliment, they only had courtship on their mind and either gave up when she wasn’t interested or kept pursuing until she had to get forceful. Any of her male friends or acquaintances had never expressed any interest or observations on her beauty. (More often than not, they were saying that about Guðrún instead, which was both understandable and entirely fine with Faye.)

But here she was in this situation. Dancing around things with a man who, she had to admit…was handsome. He looked almost noble when he performed, serene, like images on a shrine dedicated to some ancient poet. She couldn’t help smiling when he smiled. He had an easy laugh.

…damn it. Damn it. Did she have time for this?

She wasn’t sure. But the question didn’t stop her from coming back.

The worst days, strangely, were the days when she didn’t do any fighting at all. When it was too risky to fight. When she had to get as many people out as quickly as possible and without being detected. Where doing the slightest thing wrong could lead to death, for her and many others. They crept through the woods like wounded animals, trying to escape stalking prey.

She hated it. She hated it more than any fight. She would have gladly chosen to go against the Allfather himself if it meant not having to slink through the woods, praying that the distant storm was only a storm. It took her longer than normal to calm down on those days. She’d sit in the darkest and quietest corner she could find back in the Mountain until she stopped shaking.

That wasn’t working tonight. Her body still felt like it was going to fall apart. Her mind raced. She wondered if she had done something wrong, if she had lead Asgard right to them.

But they know where we are already, don’t they? There’s no way they don’t. They could come to kill us at any time. Why hasn’t he? What’s taking him so long? Why doesn’t he just…

Faye slapped her own face as hard as possible. The sting brought her out of her thoughts, just for a moment. Long enough for her to get up and start walking.

I need to do something.

She knew she should probably tend to her armor and weapons, but she kept walking. She knew subconsciously where her feet were taking her before her mind really caught up. The sound of the tagelharpa only confirmed it.

Amund was performing.

There was a fairly large crowd. Faye recognized a lot of the faces: they were all people she’d saved today. She avoided their gazes and sat back in her isolated little corner. Eventually, she ended up lying down. The solid feeling of the floor against her back helped ground her.

She didn’t like that it wasn’t working as well today. But that didn’t make her want to get up, either. Being upright wasn’t a good alternative.

Faye closed her eyes. She could’ve sworn she felt the low bass of the instruments and the vocals humming through the floor, as if the Mountain were singing with them. Some dwarves and sculptors claimed that the rocks did speak or sing to them. Guided their tools. Showed them what to do.

Maybe they were onto something.

The performance didn’t seem to last long enough. The feeling of music was replaced by the feeling of footsteps. Faye wasn’t in any danger–her corner was just out of the way that she wasn’t at risk of being stepped on, secluded enough that no one stopped to ask if she was okay. Honestly , she probably could have fallen asleep there and not been found by anyone. She even considered it. Moving was too hard by far.

“Are you okay?” asked a voice above her.

Faye cracked an eye open. Amund was standing not too far away, his instrument held carefully in his arms. “Tired,” Faye admitted.

“Oh. Do you mind if I sit?”

“Only if you don’t mind that I’m not great company tonight.”

Amund sat down about an arm’s length away, apparently undeterred by how dull her voice sounded. He held the instrument as if he might start plucking its strings, but it stayed silent. “Another long day?” he guessed.

You have no idea. “The longest. I was looking forward to resting, but…” She shrugged. “...not in my stars tonight, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. Not…in an it’s my fault way. You have my sympathies way.” Amund’s free hand traced over the strings. “Have you thought about finding someone to help you? I mean, it's not that I think you’re incapable, it’s just…”

He hesitated. The silence stretched on long enough that Fate felt the urge to fill it (though, to be fair, that didn’t take long with her). “Are you volunteering?” she guessed.

“Oh, no, I’d just slow you down,” Amund said, his tone strangely self-deprecating. “But…I mean, if you needed…” He took a deep breath. “You do so much for everyone. Someone should help you too, Laufey.”

The earnestness in his voice caught her off guard. She’d heard similar words before since coming to the Mountain, but it felt different this time. The fluttering feeling, like a bird in her ribcage, was certainly new.

“You can call me Faye, you know,” Faye said suddenly. It was the only thing she could think to say, the closest she could come to articulating that feeling.

It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all she could manage.

Amund smiled as if she’d given him something precious. “Faye,” he corrected gently. “I hope I wasn’t too forward. I just…want you to be all right.”

“No, it’s…I understand.” She couldn’t keep looking him right in the eyes. “Thank you for thinking of me, Amund.”

The bird struggled harder against her ribs.

Faye didn’t think she’d be able to keep it contained much longer.

#song from the fic is ''lullaby of the giants'' from the soundtrack btw it's my favorite #god of war #god of war laufey #fic: rose colored boy

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bloodletterepicness · 2 years

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Penthouse Play...

I don’t think it’s a legit idea for someone, whose mind that never fucking stops, to take an extended vacation. I was going out of my fucking head and there wasn’t much left up there to begin with. I’ve reorganized The Pit three times, I lost count on how often I’d redone the sound system and I have stepped on Fritz’s toes more often with cleaning and moving furniture around, that I was sure, soon he might poison my food.

I was getting antsy, inside my skull and my own body. I had outlets and no reason not to use them. It was either go to the Penthouse for the weekend or stay at the Manse and drive everyone off their rocker, including myself. The choice was obvious. First, I placed two texts, and then I had my own personally trained crew of Doggen in place, stocking my place at the Commodore and making sure it shined like an ebony diamond. It wouldn’t stay that way long and just thinking about the next forty eight hours was enough to have my bulge held tight behind my leathers growing and my throat tightening with groans.

I left the safety of the Brotherhood Grounds and came to form on the balcony of my Penthouse. With as old as I am, tricks of the mind came as easy as breathing for me, which is why all it took was a mere thought and the doors silently opened, revealing highly polished black tile floors that shone in the moonlight. I stood there for a moment, not moving, only breathing and existing in the how and now. This was home to me, a place that accepted all parts of me, with no judgment. There were times in my past that I had fallen apart within these walls, and other moments that I had flown higher than I could have ever imagined making it. But I couldn’t deny that there was a period where being here was too much. I had to disconnect from all parts of me, to be able to reconnect myself correctly. Right now I could feel the pulse of the space beating underneath my own flesh, it was calling to me like a lover would and I was drooling at the mouth to answer it.

My shitkickers stepped over the threshold and a cascade of coal black pillar candles came to life. I removed my leather jacket, weapons and dropped them in a high back chair. Now that I was free of those items, I took my time walking through, reacquainting us with one another, so to speak. With a smirk on my face I let my gloved fingers glide along the walls, over the freshly waxed wall of shelves and I stopped at my table, lovingly rubbing my palm over it.

“Hello my old friend.”

I leaned down as if I was going to impart a secret, but this was one we both already knew.

“Are you thirsty?”

The corners of my lips turned up in a savage grin as the wood beneath my fingers seemed to hum to life with an answer and I barely brushed my stubbled cheek against it almost affectionately before standing back up.

“As am, I.”

My arms extended out high above my head and went in a wide arc, stretching hard until I heard bones snapping back into place. I inhaled deeply, drawing in the scents of fresh wax, an undertone of clean freshness, and of course my own blend of smoke dotted the airwaves. I followed all that up by making me a drink, rolling a fresh blunt and then I was ready to start pressing some buttons. Literally. In my time away from this place, I hadn’t forgotten it completely. I had purchased the two levels directly below my floor, hired a contractor and started construction. Now it was time to reap the benefits of a two year long process.

All it took was a few swipes over the screen on my phone to start things into motion…As I stood there by the end of the kitchen counter, about five feet in front of me an area of a circle opened up. It all worked to perfection, silently and without any stuttering in movements. As soon as there was a gaping hole in my floor, it was filled with a center stage that came up through the opening. There was low lighting framing the bottom that gave off just enough to send shadows across the shiny tile. As beautiful as all that was, the focal point was what was placed upon the stage and he had my full attention now.

I was in no rush mentally, but physically, I wanted to shred him to pieces. Reining myself in control wasn't a problem. I could taste all the delectable things that I would be doing to him, it coated my tongue and throat and had me salivating for the actual acts. Still yet I stayed standing where I was with a short glass in hand and a blunt in the other, watching everything about him…admiring. He was on all fours, head bowed, shoulders were pulled back tight, showing the strain across his stretched skin and bulged muscles. He was an oldie but definitely a goodie. I hadn’t reached out to him or any of the usual well trained subs in years, and yet when my text went through, it was answered in minutes. Which brought us to where we are now,

I wasn’t one for beginners, therefore I stayed clear of any that wreaked of it, and they were easily spotted. But that was the lovely thing about the world of kink, you could always find those with taste that match yours.

I brought the glass to my lips, empty the contents down my parched throat and slid it across the smooth counter before pushing away and closing the distance between me and what I wanted. With each step his body reacted, the hairs on his nape stood as his arms locked into place and his breathing was the loudest indicator, it hitched and then stopped altogether. I ate up every fucking response as if it was a physical touch to my body. My own breaths came out in menacing above whisper growls and I snapped my fangs together when I was able to touch him and that solitary sound was enough to have his chest practically bursting open with the rush of O2 that flooded out.

“No dying…just yet.”

My words were obviously laced with the deadly smirk that was mimicking my very features.

‘Thank you, Master!’

My gloved fingers slid over the top of his head, digging into the soft locks until I had a handful and yanked back until his chin was jutting upwards and his deep black eyes locked on my icy white ones. It was what I saw in that look that had my cock begging to be released from the tight confines of my leathers. It was a savage need that was pleading with me but without a single word being uttered.

“Such an obedient one…Let’s see if you can hold out as long as you used to be able to.”

His adams-apple lodged in one place and his dick was literally dancing between his parted thighs. My wicked grin grew and I dragged him forward a few inches, until he could bump his bare shoulder into me and yet he knew better than to try even that little of a touch.

‘I want to be used, abused, mutilated, degraded and destroyed. In every possible way, Master.’

I gave a nod, let go of my hold on him and walked over to my shelf. I grabbed a few basic items, choke collar, chain leash, cock cage with a sounding attachment, the obvious plug. He wasn’t here to get fucked, we both could get that anywhere. There was a very real chance my dick won’t even come into play at all. It wasn’t about that either. We knew the experience and release that one another could provide. With all that in my mind I made my way back to my toy of the night and adorned him with the loot that I brought with me. I almost laughed when I saw his excitement while I placed the metal around his neck, locked the hook in place, letting the leash hang down and then I motioned for him to sit up. I let out a low whistle as I let my gaze travel over his naked form, he bore many scars that he obtained well before his transitioning years and definitely not from a Dominant, no these were from those that were supposed to be his ‘family’. He actually blushed as he saw my deep approval of every fucking part of him, he was spectacular. I reached down between his legs, taking his nuts in my palm first, slipping them through the smooth circle before covering his dick with the cage contraption and slowly I place the long thin tube into his pisshole, teasing it in and out a few times, just to hear those small gasp that he let out, and when I thought he had enough, I closed the padlock and tossed the key over my shoulder. I gave a pat over his caged cock, stood up, and handed him the plug. He knew what to do with it and I enjoyed watching him suck on the tip before fully submerging it in his mouth, soaking it up as he fucked it between his lips, making a grand show of it for me. Of course I showed my appreciation as I took it from his mouth, circled the wet tip around the tight muscles of his ass, and he bent over fully, placing his hands on the stage floor and braced himself as I pushed it barely into his hole for the barest of a second and then rammed it fully home, shoving him a few inches with the force. The audible moan was done through gritted teeth and I smacked his ass for how good he had been during preparation.

“You are doing so fucking good. I can see that you have advanced in your training… It pleases me,”

Once again I almost laughed as he reacted to the praise and was practically strutting when I took a hold of the chain attached to his collar and led him over to my table. It was actually cute as fuck. When we reached it I stood back and watched as he stood up but when he stopped and stared at the ancient table, I thought he might be hesitating and if that was the case, it ended here and now. But he shocked him as he looked at me with a tear in his ebony eyes and placed his hand on the wood lovingly. I understood then, he had missed his sessions on my table. I nodded and he climbed up, laying himself out like the buffet he was. I waited long enough to make sure he was situated before locking both ankles in the leather cuffs, as well as both of his wrist, which were placed on either side of him and placing a full leather hooded mask over his head, taking his sight fully away.

For this occasion I wanted to be close so I chose a blade that was an old favorite, leather handle, short blade. I took a deep breath in through my nose, held it there while all the candle flames, on demand flare almost to the ceilings and as they settle down to low dancing levels a slow rush of air comes out of me.

I started slowly, rubbing the dull side of the blade down his arms, taking my time to familiarize him with it, circling along his sides and lightly scraping the tip over his hip bones. His breathing was pants that went into a small gasp but that was the only movement you saw of his body. I licked my lips, and listened to the loud rush of his blood just under the surface. It was a song and it was playing for me, reaching into me with each lyric as it coursed through his various veins.

I allowed this comfort play to go on for a little while before I switched it up, turning the polished metal over, scraping the lethal tip over the same areas, this time leaving angry lines behind. Once again only his breathing showed any response. The fact that he was able to withhold was a testament to his abilities and motherfuck, if that didn’t have my one nutted wonder tightening up snug against my raging hard on.

My words came out raspy and harsh.

“Bleed for me…”

And he did exactly that as I pressed the sharpness into his flesh covering his left peck, piercing it enough that a drop of blackness bubbled up until it spilled down his side. I was rewarded with hearing his sharp intake of breath that ended on a moan. From that point on I was Edward Scissorhands, slicing and carving his skin as if it was my own personal canvas, and while he was in my hands, he did belong to me. It was the heavy scent of his blood filling the air that had me growling through every deep cut I made into his body, relieving him of more and more of his life essence. I could no longer see any other color on him except reds and blacks. Some lacerations I took my sweet time on, digging in nice and deep until I could physically feel him react. There were other slits that were superficial but each one definitely added to the collage. If anyone was to barge in at this moment, it would truly look as though I was slaughtering the male, and in a sense, I was.

“I have you for forty eight hours. One day of play and one day of healing, and you will need the whole twenty four hours.”

The blood drenched cock cage between his thighs was frantically moving as his dick pulsated, trying to fill, begging. I reached down with my leather clad fingers, smacking the contraption before diving my hand further down to his ass and pressing the thick plug deeper inside of him. A ragged scream tore from his mouth, muffled slightly by the hood and he was rewarded with me yanking the intrusive object out.

“I think it needs more lube on it.”

I could see his head nodding before he spoke words.

‘YES PLEASE Master. It’s been so long since anyone fucked my own blood in my asshole. Pretty Please Master!’

That was all I wanted to hear, begging in the right mind set, meant every fucking thing. When you can take them to the point that they admit all the things they want, need, desire, it’s a high unlike anything else.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

I rolled the plug down his bloody torso, smearing it along the way and I didn’t stop until I could hold the plug up and it was dripping red. When he felt my arm reach down to his legs, he spread them open wider, giving me all the room I needed to get to his ass. I played with the tip, just as I did the first time and again rammed it straight into his hole, stretching him wide open and bringing about another series of moans and shouts.

I stood there beside him on my table, watching closely as the various gashes trickled all over him and the wood. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me harder, thinking about his blood soaking into the surface, permanently.

I bent down some, getting close enough that my breath could be felt against his neck as I spoke.

“Since you have pleased me greatly so far, I am going to be nice and tell you a couple things we will be doing together tonight.”

While I talked I let my fingers glide between the wounds covering his body, slipping into some of them, making them bleed anew.

“I have this beautiful industrial hook, attached to the ceiling that you will hang from, while I whip you and allow you to make a splattering mess, then at some point I will sit back and watch as you lick it all up so we can move onto other forms of play.”

#BDB #SL #V #RP #14

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jinxwrites · 2 years

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Purple Roses (OC x Kanato Sakamaki)

It had only been a couple weeks since I had moved to Japan since my dad relocated. I really dreaded having to go to school in an unfamiliar country. I felt so awkward already since I couldn’t speak Japanese. One of my dad’s coworkers recommended night classes until I got the hang of things, so here I was, standing outside of Ryoutei High School Academy an hour before class started. I figured I’d get there early, so I’d have time to get myself in order and find my homeroom to avoid being late on my first day. When I entered, I walked through a hall of lockers trying to find the one they assigned to me. I put on my shoes that completed my uniform, putting my other ones in the locker. Alright, time to find my homeroom and hopefully not get lost. Thing is, this school was huge. There were like three floors. It’d probably be best to find someone who could help me. I roamed the hallways, looking for any students or teachers to help me. That’s when I saw a guy with shaggy, black hair slightly over his eyes putting his outside shoes in his locker. I approached him with a friendly smile, “Hi, I’m new and I was hoping you could help me find my classes.”

He nodded, “Which room are you looking for?”

“Room 3-B,” I said while checking the schedule they gave me yesterday when I met all the faculty members.

“That’d be on the third floor. My homeroom is up there too, so I can walk you there if you’d like.” He gave me a smile, “I’m Akio by the way.”

“Lila,” I smiled, “and thank you so much for helping me.”

“No problem,” he shut his locker and gestured for me to follow him. As we walked up the stairs together, I told him a little about myself like why I had moved and where I was originally from. He said he was attending night classes because he didn’t have time to study during the day due to working in a restaurant his family owned. “They insisted I put school first, but I just felt bad not helping out.”

“I’d love to go there someday,” I told him as we stopped outside of the classroom. We still had about ten minutes until class started, so we hung outside in the hallway. I was so grateful I found someone to accompany me on my first day. “I guess we’re a little early,” I laughed.

“Better than being late,” we talked for a little more when other students started flooding the hallways. Akio saw someone he knew and waved, “I’ll see you around, Lila.” I watched him walk over to his friend and immediately felt awkward being alone again. He had distracted me from overthinking things, but now that he was gone, it was coming back. I headed in the classroom, sitting towards the back to avoid drawing attention to myself. I tugged at my black uniform skirt with white trim nervously as the seats filled up around me. A couple people glanced my way, but didn’t say anything. I looked so out of place. Then, he walked in. A guy who looked too young to be in high school with purple hair and matching eyes. He was holding a teddy bear with an eye patch close to his chest as he walked to his seat. I tried not to stare, but I found myself following him with my eyes until he sat down. I quickly looked away to avoid any eye contact. I could feel my face heating up in embarrassment. When I caught a glimpse of him again, he was staring at me. I couldn’t help but find him a little creepy with his wide eyes with very dark circles underneath like he hadn’t slept in days.

“She seems new, right Teddy?” His voice was soft and reminded me of a child. Wait, was he talking to the bear? What high schooler carries around a stuffed animal? What sane person talks to one in public?! Something about his mere presence in the room made me nervous. The way he stared at me with his head slightly tilted. The way he kept looking down and talking to the stuffed bear in his arms like it was alive.

“Are you talking about me?” I asked while avoiding eye contact. Crap, why did I think that was a good idea? I could have just ignored him, but no, I had to start a conversation instead. He just ignored me and continued staring down at his bear. Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in talking to me anyways. I sighed, facing forward and played with the bow on my uniform anxiously. The teacher walked in with a folder tucked under his arm. I prayed he wouldn’t draw attention to me.

“Before we begin taking attendance and the announcements, we have a new student. Will you please come up and introduce yourself by writing your name on the board?” Crap. I nodded as I nervously stood up, pulling at the hem of my skirt. The room felt hot and this blazer wasn’t helping either.

I wrote my name in English since I didn’t know Kanji before turning to face the class. Everyone’s eyes were on me now, especially his. “My name is Lila Madison. I just moved to Japan a couple weeks ago.” I bowed politely after the teacher dismissed me from my introduction. I walked back to my seat and looked down at my hands. It felt like everyone was staring at me. After attendance and the announcements, we began the lecture on the Japanese language. It was hard to follow since I literally knew nothing, but I took notes anyways.

After class, I met Akio during our ten minute break. I told him about the guy with the teddy bear. “Yeah, that’s Sakamaki Kanato. He’s a weird guy. His whole family is kind of that way though.”

“Family?” I asked curiously.

“He’s got like five brothers, but they barely look related to each other. They’re all super weird too.” He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“Weirder than a second year who talks to stuffed animals?”

“Okay, maybe his brothers aren’t that weird,” he chuckled. As I was talking to Akio, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched again. I hoped I was just paranoid considering if it was who I thought it was, he could probably hear everything we were saying.

I changed the subject just in case, “I might need your help with my Japanese. I felt so lost in class today.”

“Yeah, I can teach you,” he smiled. He was so nice. The bell rang, signaling break was over. I waved him off before returning to my classroom. Each class was like an hour with a short break between. Lunch was at midnight and we had two more hours of class afterwards. I felt like I was about to pass out. I was so tired because I wasn’t used to being up this late. Unfortunately, I still had physical education. I was never one for sports or running, so I was not looking forward to it at all. I changed into my gym clothes, putting my long, lilac hair in a ponytail before meeting everyone in the outside field. It was so cold because it was like one in the morning and there wasn’t a spec of light besides the moon, stars, and the lights on the field. We started with some stretches because we were going to be running laps. When I started running, everyone quickly passed me. A redheaded guy caught my eye who was weaving through the other runners to the front of the line with ease. He seemed to think he was in a race. How did he run so fast though? Was he on the track team or something? He finished his laps quickly while I was nearly the last one. I bent over still trying to catch my breath when he approached me.

“Are you new or somethin’? I’ve never seen you before.” He had a smug grin on his face as he observed my fatigued state. He wasn’t even breathing heavily!

“Yeah, I’m Lila. How are you so fast?” I swallowed as I straightened up to combat the dryness in my throat.

“I dunno. I mean, I play basketball, so I’m used to running around. I’m Ayato,” he gave me a smirk. His eyes were so bright green it was almost off putting.

“Sakamaki! Team up for a volleyball match in the gymnasium.” Sakamaki? He was related to Kanato? Akio wasn’t kidding when he said they looked nothing alike because I wouldn’t have known otherwise. We ran inside for the volleyball match. Needless to say, I didn’t help my team much. I could tell people were getting mad at me for barely participating, but this just wasn’t my strong suit. I excelled in classes like English or art, not physical education.

When two rolled around, I felt like I was going to fall over from exhaustion. I have never felt so tired after school before. I helped my group clean up one of the classrooms at the end of the day. I wondered who the other four brothers were since I had only met two. They seemed to stand out from the other students, so maybe they’d be easy to find. I was just curious after what Akio said. I went to my locker to grab my things and change my shoes. I was so ready to go home, and this was only my first day. Thankfully, my mom agreed to pick me up since we didn’t live far from the school. Akio was talking to his friend from earlier when he caught my eye and waved me over. I walked over and smiled, “Hi, Akio. I hope I said your name right..”

“You got it! This is Mukami Ruki. He’s a third year.” He gestured to the guy with ruffled black and white hair next to him. He had bluish gray eyes and three piercings in his right ear. Upon meeting my gaze, he gave me a smirk. I could feel my face warming up again.

“N-Nice to meet you, Ruki. I’m Lila.” I found myself stuttering while looking at him. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy at all. Akio chuckled at my expression and I nudged him for teasing me.

“How was your first day?” Akio asked as he gathered his things.

“I need a nap,” I sighed, followed by a laugh from both of them. “Hey, my mom is here, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, see yah.” He smiled and waved as I walked off. I kept my head down again to avoid eye contact with anyone else when I bumped into someone I think? They were so sturdy it’s like I ran right into a wall.

“Watch where you’re going!” I heard a male voice yell angrily. I looked up, rubbing my head and met a pair of red eyes with white hair covering the left side of his face. This had to be a Sakamaki. Again, he looked nothing like the other two, but he stood out enough to be one. “What are you staring at?!”

My eyes widened. I felt frozen in place. “I-I’m sorry I-I,” I was stuttering again. This man looked like he was about to murder me. Luckily, he quickly realized I wasn’t worth his time and stormed off with a click of his tongue. I sighed in relief. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to meet any more of these Sakamaki brothers if that’s who that guy was.

#diabolik lovers #fanafiction #oc #lila madison #kanato x oc #sakamaki kanato #kanato #vampires #mature #yandere #purple roses #wattpad #ao3 #mukami ruki #sakamaki subaru #sakamaki ayato #stalking #high school

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annakie · 2 years

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One last self-indulgent Patchy post, from almost two weeks out.

It’s been some time.

I’ve mostly been off tumblr, letting the queue run things. Occasionally scrolling the dash, not much social media lately, it was a bit Too Much outside of some direct chats with friends and running/coordinating D&D stuff.

The weekend post-death I hibernated a lot. I let myself cry as much as I wanted. I reminded myself, and I may have posted this here, I don’t remember, but that the only good way through grief is to go right through it.

My work sent a nice little snack gift box. Not much I liked in it, but the thought was very much appreciated. And the vet sent the flowers I posted about last week.

It was a little better Sunday. I ran my Sunday Night D&D game and just made sure to have a cry in the hour before to get it all out.

Last week was fine. Still crying every day, but a little less every day. I spent a lot of time on the couch watching Netflix when I wasn’t working. And honestly, I didn’t work that much most days. Watched mostly like, home makeover/cleanup shows. You know, things that make you feel vaguely good without having to actually think.

Better Call Saul finale and other ongoing shows were good distractions.

Thursday I got the call that Patchy’s ashes were ready for pickup. I went in Friday at lunch. Thanked the receptionist for the flowers they sent (which are still in the house but need to be thrown out.)

Took the very nice little bag they gave me back to the car and looked inside. The box with her ashes, tied up in a pretty ribbon, I ran my hands over the very pretty box, and opened the box with the plaster paw print. There was also an envelope I declined to open at the time. I cried for a few moments, got some takeout, went home.

Sat down and opened the envelope and saw the fur clipping in the little bag and for the first time in a couple of days I completely lost it. A long, sobbing cry.

When I’d left the vets office after putting her to sleep I nearly went back in to ask them to save a clipping of her fur, but decided not to. I knew I couldn’t have gotten through it. And I thought about emailing them later but thought it might be too late by the time I thought if it and wasn’t 100% sure I wanted it. I have a little clipping of Cebu’s poodle hair though, and it means a lot to me to still have. But I decided not to.

So seeing that they’d done it anyway, without me asking, meant a lot, but also it hurt a lot. I was so very relieved and yet it was also like a sledgehammer. Having her ashes, and a little bit of her where they’d found a perfect intersection of her three colors was so thoughtful. But it was also like that final “she’s really gone and she’s not coming back” moment. Where mentally you knew it, but it’s what the heart needed for it to be final.

I at first put the three things on the shelves behind me here in the office/living room next to Jim’s ashes and picture but realized about thirty seconds later that that was wrong, the living room wasn’t her room.

I have a little knick-knack shelf in the bedroom filled with ceramics and figurines people had given me throughout the years for various reasons. I curate it and swap things out occasionally but for the most part it’s just little mementos and decoration. There was a tea light lamp on the top of it that was a thank you gift for helping run a big baby shower about 14 years ago, so I moved that lower on the shelf and set Patchy’s things on the top. The master bedroom was her domain for six years, so a little space for her there seems right.

I’ve felt more at peace since doing that. I spent a lot of time second guessing myself the first week. And I still wonder if I should have done more. Especially still kicking myself for not taking her back in two or three weeks earlier. We may have bought her another couple of weeks of life if I had, but realistically I know time was drawing short, and she’d outlasted her best estimates. I’m mostly at peace with it. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop self-doubting, just a teensy bit.

Fry moved himself back into the master bedroom immediately upon my opening it back up, and barely has left it since. It took Pemily a couple of days to understand that yes, it’s OK for you to be in here now. It’s OK to get up on the bed. You can sleep with me again. They are both loving it. Fry especially is rarely not in there when he’s not eating. He used to watch TV with me all the time and now that’s just sometimes.

There’s a small cat tree that Patchy loved to sit under but not into. It’s Fry’s favorite thing. I’d always kicked myself for not buying two when I bought the one on clearance. Patchy literally never got into the bucket seat. The few times I’d let Fry in there when Patchy was around he’d mostly just hang out in it, and now he is in it like 50% of the time.

He and Pemily are both sleeping with me again which is... mostly good. They’re a lot more restless than Patchy. They’re both also way heavier than her -- Fry is like 13lbs and Pemily is like 18 whereas Patchy was 10 or less. So when they wake me up to want to cuddle, it’s a lot more noticeable and there’s, you know, two of them. Sleeping with the bedroom door open again is great insofar as it’s no longer stuffy in there as soon as the AC goes off, but also brighter with the hall nightlight shining into the room, and noisier as I can hear all three of them moving around and using the litterbox when they need it. Leela also likes to just scream randomly, and it’s a lot louder with the door open. Leela has walked around the bedroom but as usual, prefers her bed on the desk.

Peaches -- who I saw this week is actually a boy -- and Buster have been outside a lot. I am in the beginning stages of seeing what I can do to domesticate them. Peaches seems more likely than Buster. Going to change Peaches name, especially if I can get him inside/vetted/snipped/safe if possible. Hoping Fry can handle it well if I can get one of them integrated into the house.

Four is my limit, but Leela is 17.5. Realistically, I know I won’t have a lot of time left with her. Ever since her health scare last year I’ve been doing my best to give her the best, especially now Patchy is gone. Her last few vet visits have gone great though, so who knows. Maybe she’ll live to 20. I’ve been trying not to pre-mourn her since the last 13 months were about pre-mourning Patchy.

ANYWAY. Aside from ALL THE CAT NEWS I went and played D&D4e at Marcus’ on Friday, and this Saturday is 13th Age game night. Running my Wednesday night game tonight and going to run my SUnday night game.. tomorrow? Since we’re in the middle of like, the Most Important Part of this campaign TBH and everyone wants to know what happens and not take a week off when someone can’t make it this weekend. Also just going to run a B-team game for the rest of them Sunday anyway.

Gaming is healing.

Have been dicking around in Enderal, just going exploring/dungeon diving a lot and ignoring the main quest. Just a few hours every few days. I also replayed Boyfriend Dungeon since the DLC came out and I had only played it on release. They’d added some cool stuff. I meant to treat someone else as my main romance this time but honestly, Isaac is perfect. Still romanced everyone possible to romance except Sawyer (too young, too immature. Nice kid) and let Sunder break up with me this time instead of me rejecting him for being... what he is. It was a nice, light, fluffy break.

Also watched Abbot Elementary, and loved it. Need more please.

Today is the first day this work week I’ve had a cry about Patchy. And mostly because I re-read my previous entry to prepare for this one. I am coming out of the grief stage, not there yet. But getting close. I miss her a lot. I think about her often, but I am starting to move on.

#my pets #pet death tw #personal post tag thingy

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craighanley13 · 19 days

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keefwho · 11 months

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June 08 - 2023 Thurdday

2:08 PM

Some of my most frequent thoughts include: “I am alone” “No one wants me” “I’m not good enough” “I’m not worthy of (thing) or (person)” “Is (person) better than me?”

These are thoughts I want to figure out how to defuse from. They plague my mind. Catching them is the first step which is what I’m doing now. I’ve felt pretty good today and yesterday in general but even when I feel okay, these feelings still loom in the background. I want to truly detach from them.

7:18 PM

At this moment I’m feeling down on myself, like no one wants me around and to a greater extent, never will. I’ve been feeling like this with everything. I feel like I can’t attend events, or play games with people, or like I can’t be sexually active because it’s not welcome from me. These are all beliefs I have about myself that are not true but it’s hard to shake them off. How can I stop feeling this way? Even if I identify the feelings as they happen, I don’t know how to lessen their effect.

8:24 PM

Even if I feel bad about myself, the first thing I want to believe is that I am not alone. People care about me. And if it’s not as many people as I’d like, I have the capacity to expand my connection. It CAN be done. An equally noble priority is to stop feeling like I’m going nowhere. Like I’m stuck in one place where the only way I can go is down. I’m starting to take more interest in my art again. I have the desire to draw ponies along with new episode releases. In some way I also want to get more integrated into the furry community since I feel very outside of it.

I’d like to believe my self esteem hasn’t gotten worse. I’ve just become aware of it and it’s extent.

My heart hurts so deeply. At least I feel something.

9:16 PM

Time to spill it all out. I feel pathetic. My life has gone nowhere. I have no one that loves me. No one is committed to me. I crave mutual companionship but I do not have it. I feel unworthy. Even if I pull myself together I’m just destined to stay alone and unhappy. I have no redeeming qualities, I’m convinced I’m just put up with by people. I’m so far below anyone’s league. I don’t deserve space on this earth. This is how I feel tonight. I’m crying about it, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I wish I could stop feeling so worthless. I wish I could feel loved, by myself or from anyone else. The second I stop fighting for my survival, it’s over. There is no one to pull me up. I am all that keeps me afloat and sometimes it’s hard to hang on.

I feel no hope. I’ve lost my friends and social networks. My art is lame, I’m not what I used to be. I don’t dream anymore. I feel like I slowly edge closer to the possibility that I could actually end it. I never thought I’d be the kind of person but here I am. I’m afraid one day I actually might want to. And if I tell anyone that, that’s a quick way to make people want to distant. I know no one wants that in the their life.

I think the only thing that kept me from worsening depression in the past was my friends. I always had people that would hit me up or that I knew I could go to to hang out with. Now it’s one person that I actually feel connected to and that’s becoming unhealthy. Now I’m nearly completely alone so nothing will keep me from spiraling.

I have dinner but I literally can’t eat it. I don’t want to eat.

9:49 PM

I’m such a piece of shit. Being so selfish all the fucking time. I hate myself. Truly despise myself. For causing so much pain to everyone around me all the time just by being myself. And expecting love in return. What a fucking idiot.

10:45 PM

I seriously have never felt this hopeless. If I feel like this tomorrow morning, I’m not doing work. I might not get to bed on time. I don’t care about trying to do anything. I want to give up.

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kat-nevayra · 2 years

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[TToD] Chapter Eight - The Path Ahead

It was an odd feeling, being the first one awake. I had gotten used to the scent of breakfast drawing me out of my tent, where I’d found that Elae had been busy long before I had woken up. But this morning, I was the first one awake.

First, I decided to tend to the horses. I gave them food and water, also rewarding Milkshake with some attention. She’d seemed worried about me the night we returned, so I wanted to assure her that we were okay. I didn’t know how long we’d been gone, but there was relief in the fact that our horses were still here. We couldn’t have lost too much time.

After tending to their needs, I gathered firewood to make breakfast. Along the way, I decided I would gather some extra wood to take with us. There wouldn’t be much firewood where we were headed next. We’d need to be prepared.

Once I got a fire going, I produced a few ingredients to make oatmeal. Since I wasn’t a very good cook, I picked an easy recipe. I’d watched Elae make it a few times during breakfast, so I figured I could make it without a recipe. As I began to put ingredients in the pot, I heard my companion begin to stir.

He opened his eyes, speaking in a drowsy voice, “You… saved me…”

“Of course, you’re my travel partner,” I told him. “Besides, Ophelia probably wouldn’t let me go free if I left you to die here.”

He laughed. “Of course. Freedom is the priority.”

“Eh, you’re what actually makes this quest bearable. Freedom is just what makes it worth it.”

“Worth dealing with me?”

“No, worth dealing with stuff like that,” I said, looking back at the library. “If I can go my whole life without ever getting trapped in a labyrinth again, I will die happy.”

“Unfortunately, we still have two artifacts to recover. Though, I don’t think either of them are protected in the same manner.”

“Thank goodness.”

He and I shared a little laugh. We were both grateful to have made it out of there. But something seemed to bother him. He’d done nothing but sleep since we were separated, and yet he looked tired. He was quieter, in the way he sometimes got on our journey when he was sleepy. Were his nightmares still affecting him?

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Though I still need to see a doctor, I think,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem tired, and… when I found you in the maze, you were crying.”

“Ah. So you’re worried about what I saw, then?”

I nodded.

“It’s nothing, really. Just some stuff from my past. I’ve fought in a lot of wars, even before my sister became the empress. That stuff tends to stick with you, no matter how long ago it happened.”

I knew nothing of his experiences, but could somehow understand the feeling. I had my own things that stuck with me. Even now, I was making memories that would never leave. The labyrinth, the collar, the eyes in the woods… Once I completed this quest, I would never forget it. Of course, that was assuming I completed it. Either way, I'd die with the memories.

I found myself relieved to see Elae safe. His smile was infectious, and hearing his voice again made relief crash over me in waves. Seeing him safe, although injured, gave me a sense of security. I felt like everything was going to be okay. But I worried about him too. The collar around his neck shimmered in the sunlight, even from beneath his cloak.

I didn’t understand. How had I never noticed it before? It seemed like such an obvious detail in hindsight. Without his armor, the elven silver stuck out against the rest of his outfit. He wasn’t one to wear jewelry, so he just wore simple fabrics. Except for the brooch that held his cape together. That was made of a beautiful green gem from the mountains, wrapped in the same silver.

I desperately wanted to ask him about the collar, to find out what happened to him. But the elven knight was a secretive person. The only thing he’d really been willing to share with me was his reason for coming along. He was pretty honest about his relationship with Ophelia, but not much else. He’d likely tell me not to worry about it. He always did.

“Elsie, are you alright?”

I hadn’t realized that I was staring. “Oh! Sorry, I just-”

“How long have you known?” he said, touching the glimmering metal.

“Not long. Since last night… when I found you,” I replied. “I guess I’m just trying to understand it. You’re the sweetest, most lawful person I know. I can’t think of any reason someone would want to collar you.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I can think of many. One that comes to mind is paranoia.”

“Paranoia?”

“Ophelia is incredibly paranoid. It’s why she banned magic; so no one could contest her power. And as for the people who work for her, she’s always worried about traitors. So this collar makes me obedient. I’m forced to follow any order she gives me, with little room for free will.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t do anything without me in the Ancient Library?”

“Indeed.” He looked away from me with guilt in his eyes. “It’s why I couldn’t have been of more help. But her orders were very specific, to ‘follow your instruction within the relic domains’. It makes assisting you difficult, but I tried my best to protect you anyway. Unfortunately, we as her court are kept on tight leashes… in both literal and metaphorical senses.”

“At the very least, it doesn’t seem like she gives you too many restrictions.”

“She doesn’t know she has to,” he said, before adding quietly, “She thinks my mind was broken a long time ago.”

I had so many answers, and yet an equal amount of questions. If the empress thought he was broken, then it made sense why he acted so strangely when we met. It explained the way he only spoke when spoken to, as well as his silent nature at the beginning of our journey. But it opened up even more questions. What had happened to make everyone think that way about him? What was Ophelia so afraid of, and why did it lead her to force obedience from her own brother?

In an attempt not to pry, I pushed away the questions I had. I didn’t think I was going to get more answers. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me later. Besides, he was still recovering from whatever happened in that maze. I wanted to give him some privacy. We still had months to spend together; there would be more time to pester him with questions.

After breakfast, Elae helped bundle the wood I’d gathered while I packed up the camp. Since I hadn’t pitched either of our tents, we were done quicker than usual. This left us more time to plan our destination and get on the road.

“You said you knew someone who could help you,” I mentioned, looking at the map. “Where do we have to go to find them?”

Standing next to me, he drew his finger over the map to a town south of here. It was one I recognized, and not for good reasons. “She lives here. I believe we need to head southwest anyway, so we can stop at her place on our way.”

“You must be insane! That place is full of criminals.”

“I’m well aware of that, don’t worry. I’ve visited her before, and we’ll be fine as long as we stick together.” he reassured me. “Besides, aren’t you a criminal?”

“I’m a thief. That’s different. Those people will do terrible things to others for quick money. It sickens me.”

“You’re absolutely right; it’s horrendous. But it’ll only take a night. Just trust me on this.”

I still wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea, but I trusted him. He had thousands of years worth of experience, so maybe he knew this place better than I did. I’d never been; only having heard the stories from other thieves and travelers. Perhaps we could stay the night and then get out of there safely. It’s not like I knew where else to go, anyway.

After packing up, we got onto our horses and began taking the path that headed south. Elae told me that the journey would only take a few days, and we’d be traveling away from the forest. I felt a small amount of relief, since that meant I wouldn’t be haunted by the eyes. Unfortunately, as we rode under the open sky, I wasn’t rid of my worries.

…And soon, they would be proven right.

#writers #my writing #my ocs stuff #elsie sparrowood #the elven knight elae #the thief of dusk #revised by my editor (aka my bf)#revised on release :)

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

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