#in my *giffing henry while i still can* era
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The Brother’s Reaction to MC having a Nightmare
bAby
this gif... holy SHIT
Lucifer
Whether you started the evening snuggled up under his chin or all alone in your room, he’s an extremely light sleeper since he’s got to keep an ear out for Mammon being stupid at 2 am
So when you start to move restlessly and/or whimper and cry, naturally he’ll awaken and see what the issue is
Lucifer will sit up and gently rest a tentative hand on your trembling shoulder, so as not to startle you
His presence only seemed to make it worse! Your tears got bigger and your cries got louder, your breathing became more uneven until you woke with a start, your own shrill scream scaring you into a frightened, crying ball in front of him
Boi is at a loss…
Was this his fault?
“MC, darling, what has gotten into you? Are you alright?”
“L-Lucifer?” You whimper, watery eyes roving aimlessly in the darkness “L-L-Lucifer?! Where are-”
Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, he reassures you: “I’m here, right here princess,” “I’ve got you, it was just a dream MC... nothing to worry about.”
Strokes your head, smoothing your rumpled hair and supporting your back while you hide your puffy, tearstained face in his collar and cling to him for dear life until you calm down
You’re still shaking when the usually stiff demon presses a kiss to the crown of your head and begins to rock from side to side, murmuring gentle, reassuring words in your ear
“Nothing can hurt you as long as you’re in my arms, MC.” “Deep breaths my love, deep breaths…”
Mammon’s vivid scary stories before bed had obviously been a bad decision, Lucifer decided as he dabbed your cheeks with a kleenex
his poor, sweet human having nightmares about silly campfire tales…
How endearing, yet upsetting
He’ll carry you to the kitchen bridal style and hold you close after getting you a glass of water, then carry you back to bed and tuck you safely against his broad chest for the rest of the night making a mental note to hang Mammon upside down from the banister the following morning
Mammon
He woke up from his dream about goldie who had read “∞” on the ATM and opened his door in answer to the frantic knock to find his favorite human crying
You rushed into his arms, burying your face in his chest to hide your shuddering sobs, nearly sending the now blushing Avatar of Greed off balance in your haste
“Jeez, human! Wha… What happened? Why’re ya crying like that?”
No, like seriously, plz stop crying babie or he’s gonna cry too
Returns the hug, holding MC firmly as he regains his footing and manages to shut the door behind you
“MC, sssh, I’m right here! You don’t hafta worry, ok? Luckily you’ve got the best demon on the job to make ya feel better! Hug me as hard as ya need, ok?”
*forehead and cheek smooches*
Lets you curl up in his lap until you can talk to him without stuttering or choking on tears
Holds you the whole time, almost as if he’s afraid to let go for fear you’ll cry again
“Bad dream? What was it about?”
“Th-Those characters from Levi’s horror game w-were eating you alive and I c-couldn’t move!” You whimper tearfully, “You were begging me for help a-and I couldn’t do anything to save you from them because every time I moved th-these ropes got t-tighter around my neck a-an-”
First of all, he’s horrified that Levi showed you those games when he knew they gave you nightmares. Unfortunately, you had to if you didn’t want to be called a normie for the billionth time that week
Second, he, the great Mammon, begging a mere human for help? Yeah right
Even though he knew in his heart of hearts that that would definitely be the case
“They’re not real, remember that. And if you still think those freaks are lurking in the dark, come find me and the great Mammon will protect you!”
You can't help but giggle and hug him more tightly, knocking him back onto his pillow
Neither of you felt like moving, so Mammon pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and you snuggle together until the morning comes
At the breakfast table, Mammon doesn’t hesitate to screech at Levi for giving you nightmares while cradling your tired, sleep-deprived body against him
Leviathan
Doesn’t hear MC’s knock at first, he’s too absorbed in the 14th episode of I Was Eating Avocado Salmon Sushi at a Hundred-Yen Revolving Sushi Restaurant When Suddenly I Was Thrown Back in Time a Thousand Years to the Heian Era, Where I Was Selected to Be a Personal Chef for a Princess and Was Later Chosen as a Possible Candidate to Be Her Husband… Now someone Please Tell Me How That’s Even Possible
As the knocking gets louder and more frantic, the otaku finally notices and pauses the anime, goes to the door and opens it a tiny bit
Just enough to see the teary-eyed MC, hugging their waist in discomfort, shivering in fear, and looking left and right down the hall for danger
“... Yeah?”
“L-Levi? C-Can I come in? *sniff* I just had a really scary dream-”
“I-uh… Ummm I g-guess,”
He lets you in and on a whim, places a tentative hand on your back
He expected you to push him away, but when you choked and rushed into his half-open arms and buried your face in his chest, leviachan.exe has stopped working
EXIT
What was he supposed to do with his hands?!?!??
MC was crying and he was just standing there like a normie? Wh… WhAt wOULd HenRy dO?
“MC, h-hey, it cant’ve been that bad… here, um let’s s-sit down a-and you can talk to me. Sound good?”
He feels you nod and leads you to his large gaming beanbag chair and you get squooshed against his side, shivering and sniveling, but warm and safe
Levi dries your face with the edge of his shirt and after a few moments of comfortable silence, you begin to explain your dream
The slimy creatures scaling the walls of the House of Lamentation with their slimy entrails dripping whitish goo in their wake. Eight spindly legs to each monster, sixteen sinister red eyes, and countless rows of gleaming fangs ready to take a chunk out of anyone who came too close
They managed to get into the house and they chased you and the brothers, but the otaku had tripped over a fallen suit of armor and a spider creature made its move before he could get away
At that point, you’d woken up absolutely terrified and rushed to see if Levi was ok
“But you’ve played horror games with me and we watched My Sister and I Found a Spider and Took It Home, Realizing Soon After it Was a Demon Who Eventually Escaped From the Glass Jar We Used for a House and Ate Our Toes, Transporting Us To Hell Where We Were F-”
“Yeah… I know… B-But it wasn’t that bad. I was reading one of the books Satan recommended. It was a really well-written horror story and it had very realistic pictures. I just can’t seem to get those gross monsters out of my head:(”
Your voice slowly trailed off and Levi realized what he had accomplished
You… You weren’t crying anymore!!
Also, you weren’t breathing really hard or shaking too much! Had… had this yucky otaku really calmed the human down?
*gasp* he was rubbing your back too!? And you hadn’t slapped his icky hands away?
You… you were ok with this? B-Being all snuggled up together on the beanbag chair?
“L-Levi, I-I’m ok now. I’ll leave you alone… I hope I didn’t wake you up…”
“N-No!”
“Something wrong?”
“No… I-um,” (he couldn’t let you get away now! This was perfect! He had you all to himself!! No WAY was he gonna screw this up!!) “You c-can stay a little longer if you’d like… I-I was in the middle of I Was Eating Avocado Salmon Sushi at a Hundred-Yen Revolving Sushi Restaurant When Suddenly I Was Thrown Back in Time a Thousand Years to the Heian Era, Where I Was Selected to Be a Personal Chef for a Princess and Was Later Chosen as a Possible Candidate to Be Her Husband… Now someone Please Tell Me How That’s Even Possible… Do you maybe want to stay and watch?”
“You don’t mind? I don’t want to intrude-”
“No! It’s fine!”
And so he fumbled with the remote and hit the play button, but couldn’t focus on a single word the protagonists were saying
You. Fell. Asleep.
On. Him.
Uh
“Maybe… Maybe MC doesn’t think I’m a… ‘yucky otaku’ after all… But don’t get your hopes up, Levi.”
Satan
He fell asleep in his chair, book resting on his chest when he heard a short, quick (almost frantic) string of taps on his door
Being a light sleeper (just like his papa), he immediately woke up to hear your voice on the other side of the door
“Satan? Are… Are you awake? *sniffle*”
It was you
What could you possibly want at this hour?
Upon opening the door, your body crashed into his own, but not before impulsively throwing your arms around his neck and breaking down on his shoulder
“M-MC? Are you alright?”
No, you weren’t
Judging by your stormy sobs and trembling figure, something must have shaken you up horribly for you to act like this
The sweet MC he knew usually kept their cool
He leads you to his big armchair and sits you down, careful to keep a firm hand on your back for support, both emotional and physical
Your eyes were wide and glassy, pupils darting to each corner of the room looking for monsters, bad demons, giant bugs, etc.
Finding none, you finally make shy eye contact with the blonde demon who has kept his arms close about you and dabbed your endless tears away until you were calm enough to speak
“MC, did you have a night terror or something?”
“*sniffle* M-hm. I-I’m sorry S-Satan, I was just so scared I c-couldn’t stay in my room all alone and you were the first person I thought of. So… I ran here. Did I wake you?”
“I fell asleep in my chair again MC. So I would have awakened during the night anyway,” He replied, “Plus, I don’t mind at all. I’m… I’m happy you came. What was your dream about?”
“It was really twisted… are you sure you want to know?”
“You’ll feel better when you talk about it and I’m always up for a story.” He smiled.
He sat back in his chair tentatively resting your head on his chest as you began describing the terrors from only minutes before
“Asmodeus and I, we watched some of those cringey teen romance movies this afternoon and somehow they morphed into a really scary dream. You and I, the rest of your brothers, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and even Barbatos were playing spin the bottle for some reason and I landed on you, but when I kissed you, you turned to dust! Th-Then when I landed on Mammon and Beel, the s-same thing happened again, but no one seemed to notice! Th-”
Noticing you were getting worked up again, Satan rubbed soothing circles into your back, hushing you gently and assuring you that everything was fine and ‘innocent’ kissing games weren’t actually deadly
Unless they were
But he didn’t mention that to you at that moment
Instead, he cradled you in his lap and read to you until your eyelids began to droop once more for some much-needed sleep
Being the good boy he is, he tucked you into his bed
BUT
Before he could walk back to his chair
“Satan, aren’t… aren’t you gonna lay with me?” You ask, tired, sweet voice ringing in his ears, “I-If you don’t mind that is. I mean it is your bed, after all, I didn’t mean t-”
He’s blushing up to his ears at your request, but nonetheless rolls onto the mattress next to you and you snuggle up close and fall asleep almost instantly
“As long as you’re here with me, you’ll be safe MC.”
Asmodeus
Why… Why was he up so early? What was that noise? Wait… Where were you?
He could’ve sworn he fell asleep with you in his arms
Sitting up groggily he looked around after rubbing the crust of sleep from his eyes
Something was moving and whimpering next to him, caught in a snare of fluffy blankets
The fearful cries of “Asmodeus! Oh, Asmo please don’t die! No, no, no, NO!!” broke the sweet demon’s heart
Your ragged breathing turned to a blood-curdling scream and you shot upright, but the blankets blocking your vision increased your tearful unease tenfold and you began struggling even harder against them
Taking action, Asmo tugged at the sheets, doing everything he could to help you
When your face emerged from the heap, you took a great gasp of air and immediately began sobbing your heart out
Asmo paused, knowing it unwise to approach someone who’d just escaped the clutches of a nightmare, but he couldn’t just sit there and stare at you!
Luckily, you chose that moment to look around
Your eyes met his amber ones in the semi-darkness and you tackled him, wrapping him in an impossibly tight hug
“A-ASMO!”
“Darling, wh-”
“Oh my god! I thought I killed you! I r-ruined your pretty face! You just sh-shriveled up a-and-”
“Sweetheart, hey~” He murmured, closing his arms around your back and cradling the back of your head in his hand, “Don’t cry anymore, Asmo’s here…”
His gentle comforting coos as he rocked from side to side brought your tears to a halt and soon you were able to look him in the face
Your glassy, frightened eyes had almost a look of reverence when you ever so slightly cupped your palm over his cheek, afraid he would crumble away at your caress once more
When he didn’t, you let out a shaky sigh of relief and visibly relaxed; shoving your face in his shoulder and wrapping your legs and arms around him so he couldn’t escape
It was quiet for a moment
Asmodeus settled his forearms around your waist and said
“Dearest, are you alright?”
“I… I don’t know.” You fisted his shirt in your palms and looked at him, “That was a really vivid one.”
“Tell me what it was about!” He smiled sympathetically and stroked your cheek, “I have bad dreams sometimes too, MC. If you tell me yours I’ll tell you a few of mii-iiine!”
You couldn’t help but crack a small grin as his sweet tone and nod
“Yesterday Beel told me about the one time he touched Satan’s favorite plant. He’d seen Satan pet the stalk and petals before and he wanted to do it too. (Satan is a plant dad, fight me) But when he touched it, it shriveled up and died on the spot. I… I had a dream where I touched you and you shriveled up! I tried to help you, but every time I touched you, you screamed in pain! Then… Then you died in my arms and I woke up.”
:(
You clung to the demon as he moved, lost in thought. Settling back into the abundant pillows and tugging a sheet over your shoulders, he began to speak
“That sounds absolutely terrifying! What would you do without me?”
“Asmo…”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He nuzzled your cheek and hugged you tighter, “Why don’t we find a way to help you forget about it? I have a couple of suggestions… if you’d like to hear them~”
Beelzebub
He’d only been gone for a minute… or four… maybe five…? Right?
Why were you writhing around like that? You sounded like a lost little puppy and… were those tears?
“MC? Are you awake?”
No reply, just your continued whines of discontent and a steady stream of tears soaking the pillow
He dropped his snacks on the floor and carefully knelt on the edge of the mattress, putting a gentle hand on your forehead
Lucifer used to do that when he was sick, long ago when they still lived in the celestial realm. Maybe it would help you? Somehow? Hopefully?
The strangled sob that fell from your lips as you forced his hand away broke his big heart in two
Hold on, your eyes were closed! Wait, you were having a bad dream!
Throwing all caution to the wind (and not knowing the consequences of waking someone in this state) and began shaking you rather roughly, scaring you awake and making you bonk heads when you sat up too quickly
Now you were crying for more reasons than one
Your head hurt, two big scary hands had your shoulders in a tight grip, there was a large figure looming over you in the dark, your dream was still raging and replaying in your head, and it was really dark and uncomfortably warm
Even in the dim light, Beel witnessed the look of pure terror that crossed your face
You thought his heart was broken? Well it just fucking shattered
You were scared? Of him?
“MC, it’s just me! Don’t be afraid!”
He’d woken you up, but apparently he’d only made things worse…
Beel is vewy sowwy :(
Those lovely amethyst eyes…
“B… Beeley?”
“MC? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn-”
You silence the ginger demon by throwing yourself into his arms in unparalleled relief, afraid you hadn’t really woken up and the shadow of your favorite brother was just MC’s Nightmare, Continued
Happy you’re in his arms, he squeezes back with all his might and burying his face in your shoulder
“I just had the worst nightmare Beel. I’m so happy you’re here…” You murmur, wiping your nose on your sleeve.
“Is your head ok?”
“M-hm.”
The pair of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Beel offers you a tissue to dry your face, but you can’t seem to stop crying
“MC, maybe if you told me about it, you’d feel better!”
His sweet, honest smile made you melt
But the contents of your dream… You looked guiltily toward the bed on the other side of the room where you knew the Avatar of Sloth was sleeping peacefully
“You… You promise not to tell Belphie?”
“What do you mean?”
“W-Well I dreamt about that time… you know… when he killed me? He gave me a hug before bed like he always does a-and I love Belphie’s hugs but I can’t help but think about... that. I feel bad, it’s the same as holding a grudge! I’m sorry Beel.”
*insert pikachu face meme* = beel
“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault you had the dream.”
“I know… I feel bad though. Did I wake you up?” You ask, changing the subject.
“Nuh-uh. I was already up grabbing snacks.” He pointed to the untidy pile a few feet away. “Maybe some TSL and food will bring your smile back. Don’t worry about your dream MC, the secret is safe with me. Plus, you’re only human and I guess being killed would be really scary for you. I didn’t protect you that time, but if anyone ever tries to hurt you again, I’ll be there before you can say Burgers from Akuzon, ok?”
The smile lifts your lips before he finishes his sentence warms his heart and puts a happy smile on his own as you give him a final squeeze and whisper
“Thanks a lot, Beeley.”
Belphegor
It is said the Avatar of Sloth could sleep through anything, even the loudest storm and the echoes of 4th of July from the human world
But when the precious human cuddled up in his arms every night begins to move around and/or whimper in fear, Belphegor is awake in minutes only to find you squirming away from him and begging to some invisible entity “Just… Just d-don’t hurt them! I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, please don’t hurt me I-”
The seventh born is squeezing your hand and whispering encouragement in your ear, telling you you’re safe and that it’s just a dream
Slowly opening your eyes you look around, still terrified and jumpy from your vision, but the warm hand intertwined with yours and the comforting arm around your back, plus the familiar scents of the twins’ room slowly bring you back to reality
“MC?”
“Belphie? I-Is that you?”
“Who else would it be, dummy.”
You ignore the half hearted insult and bury your face in his chest, allowing your heart to reach a normal pace and his natural scent and warmth to wash over you
“Tell me about it. Sounded pretty scary.”
“I’m sorry for waking you up Belphie, I know how you hate losing sleep…”
“Just… Be quiet and tell me your dream!”
“S-Sorry… Um, so I didn’t know you too well yet and an angel came and took the precious grimoire, but me and Beel were caught up in it and there was this whole thing with Purgatory Hall and Luke and-”
“Your stories can put me right to bed you know that? Anyway, so what happened? Did Lucifer tear the angel’s head off?” He looked rather hopeful…
“Of course not! Lucifer was gonna make me choose who I wanted to save, either Beel or Luke and I didn’t want either of them to get hurt so I said ‘both’ and Lucifer got really mad and scary and in my dream he ended up hurting Luke and Beel and he would’ve gotten me if you hadn’t woken me up.”
“You’re welcome.”
“... *sigh* Thanks for listening Belphie.”
With a sigh of his own, he pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder
“It was just a dream. You don’t have to be afraid, you know. I’m right here for you. Always.”
“Aww, than-”
“Forget I said that! Shut up and go to sleep!”
#obey me!#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer#lucifer obey me#lucifer x reader obey me#obey me mammon#mammon obey me#mammon x reader#mammon x reader obey me#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#levi obey me#leviathan obey me#leviathan x reader#leviathan x reader obey me#obey me satan#satan obey me#satan x reader#satan x reader obey me#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#beel x reader#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#belphegor
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This is a niche post inspired by @alicehoffmans posting some incredibly vile screenshots of fans of The Spanish Princess (a show I haven’t and probably won’t watch, but am consuming through Tumblr gifs) saying incredibly disgusting things about Anne Boleyn and other mistresses (although Anne was never a mistress in the technical sense) of Henry VIII. Misogynistic, disgusting stuff, couched in that irritating as fuck Twitter stan language. I went on the offending people’s Twitters and Tumblrs to read more, because initially, I wanted to start shit, then I thought ‘These are probably just stupid teenagers who don’t know any better and are just super invested in a show, I won’t stoop to their level’ and then I saw one of them was fucking 4MOTHERFUCKING5 YEARS OLD and should know better. A grown fucking woman who purports to write historical fiction should know better about history, about the world, about reality. And here I am, writing this post. This got way longer than I expected because I am annoyed so...
Honestly, the main thing I gleaned from perusing their timelines: Some of you would do well to finally realise that kings had mistresses. We can go back and forth about how this was born from a sexist society, and a sexist attitude to the role & rights of a king vs a queen consort (and I would say ‘Yeah, it sucks’), but that is the truth of the matter. Your husband having extramarital affairs was part and parcel of being the wife of a king (and possibly, I’d argue, being the wife of a high-ranking man in general). Royal women who became queen consorts weren’t stupid, they knew this. Many of them tolerated it: take my favourite British queen consort, Caroline of Ansbach, for example. Her husband, King George II, took a mistress, Henrietta Howard, when he was Prince of Wales, mainly because he knew that, as heir to the throne, it would’ve been bad form to NOT have a mistress. Caroline’s nose was a bit put out of joint for a while, but in the end, she found she could have a fairly decent (if occasionally petty) relationship with Henrietta, who she actually made one of her Women of the Bedchamber. Caroline, in short, made it work. This is just something kings did, for centuries and centuries and centuries. I mean, in France, ‘maitresse-en-titre’ (the official mistress) was an actual fucking position at court. Calling royal mistresses ‘homewreckers’ doesn’t hold up to historical scrutiny, sorry. Worse shit was happening in the early modern era, worse than a king indulging in a bit of centuries-old bawdry with a woman with ambition, a sexuality, and sometimes, a romantic inclination.
Does this mean that queens who knew their husband was having extra-marital affairs felt great about it? No. Caroline of Ansbach was pretty laidback but even she was a bit huffy at first. My favourite historical monarch of all time, Charles II, is pretty notorious for the amount of mistresses he had. His wife, Catherine fo Braganza, was actually warned about his proclivity for women, by her mother before she left Portugal, so she had prior warning but still, in the initial months and years of her marriage, it was hard for her. She had pretty public blow-ups with Charles about it, at first. And I haven’t seen TSP, so I can only speculate but it does look like they explore, on some level, the emotional impact infidelity in a royal marriage could have and that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean that you, the viewer, suddenly throw all critical thinking to the wind because you have quite a modern, visceral reaction to “cheating.’ I’ve been cheated on, at least twice, and it hurts, it’s shit, so when I read about Catherine of Braganza desperately trying to claw Charles back to, solely, her...yes, I feel something but I’m objective and historically literate enough to realise that that doesn’t automatically make Charles, a 17th century monarch, a deadbeat, and his mistresses all equally culpable in hurting Catherine.
Many of you could do with injecting a bit of nuance into your discussions about women who, you know, actually existed, and had lives and relationships as complicated as our own. Stop calling women who were judicially murdered on trumped up charges ‘whores’ just because they, for a while, were ‘the other woman’ in a time where this was actually kind of completely normal. The only thing I might concede for someone like Anne Boleyn specifically is that it went further, and it became something a lot more “serious” than, say, the relationship Henry had with Bessie Blount (which KoA was able to make work.) This made it upsetting and ultimately disastrous for KoA (no one denies this because no one can) - but again, you were not there, you were not party to Anne’s feelings (or KoA’s, I might add), you do not know how the situation unravelled in real time. How do you know that, in a different time and a different context, you would not have ended up making many of the decisions these women did? You don’t know. And you never will know. Take a step back and be objective. Perspective.
In conclusion:
#yes i'm angry#i was gonna leave it but then i saw that woman was 45 and i was like.....no#i'm not letting grown women do this lol#and i will be tagging this#anne boleyn#henry viii#bessie blount#this shit happened when the white queen aired 500 years ago#and people went for jane shore#like.....please go outside
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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 11)
THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.
CHAPTER 10.1
WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST
Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader
Summary: Men couldn't really be trusted with a girl who had her first menstruation especially in their dimension because their hunches could get a good laugh out of you; suggesting that Cirilla has been attacked by some beast. Feelings are shown and couldn't be avoided, however; after the Djinn incident, it seems like those feelings turn into cravings that seem to be voracious for you and Geralt.
Warnings: Sexual implications. (But, still no smut. I'm frustrating myself in this one) Mention of breasts. Ha! Geralt being one enchanted and cheeky lil' shit. (Ya’ hot witcher 😫😘🥰😒) Reader being one innocent, naive lil' shit as well. Jaskier and Geralt being idiots. Cirilla being our soft baby. Mention of coochie. Honeypot slang also means vajayjay. The menstruation talk. Blood. Also mention of WOW characters and LOL.
Words: 8.8k
A/N: 💖 Thank you for all the positive feedbacks I've received from this fic of mine! This is quite long but I hope you'll love it because I did! Hehehehhe! Thank you to @uncoolcloudyhead because she has told me about the menstruation idea and I actually liked it so here it is! THANK YOU, BB'S! Also, this is prolly my bday update for Henry Cavill! (It’s already May 5 in my time, so...Heehehe) HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVEYYYY! *CRIES* WHERE YOU AT? WE STILL HAVE BABIES TO MAKE, HENRY. 😭😭👶😭😫🥰😂😂😂
TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!
Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!
MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!
Random familiar voices came echoing outside the room. The sun was shining, in a way that got you groaning because it was attacking your face in full blast. There were ravens standing on the edge of the windows, chirping quietly as a form of your alarm. You've straightened your arms to reach for a certain person who had slept beside you, but you've tapped the mattress to feel the cold white sheets, informing you that he had already been up for hours.
You were alone. Again. Well, it wasn't like you and Geralt had a rule to not leave the bed when the other hasn't yet nor did you both have some sort of relationship that gives you that kind of priority.
The loud exclaims began to echo louder, lifting your back to squint your eyes and scrub them with the back of your knuckles; swiping off the morning glory that has been stuck on your eyelashes. You've heard the panicked voice of Cirilla down stairs as you rested your back on the headboard, listening to their talk, "I'm bleeding, Geralt. Why am I bleeding?!"
Then, Jaskier's voice resonated next, "She needs a healer!" pause. "What beast must attack her in such a delicate part of a child?!"
The witcher woke up with Cirilla never leaving her bed. He'd knocked on her door three times because they had training today before he'd heard her screech so loud, throwing the sheets away to see her bed with blood.
Shock was the least to describe Geralt's expression, he was utterly floored when he realized that their house has been invaded by some type of beast that devours a woman's delicate pearls. He deeply tried to search inside his head for whatever was close enough to be too sleek that he hadn't heard the monster enter their house nor did he even got the gist of its smell.
The monster was technically too good or maybe somehow idiotic as well because of how it probably only bitten Cirilla in between her legs.
"Jaskier, calm down." Geralt deeply rumbled, eyebrows tightly creased to the extent of thinking too much. The bard huffed to himself, crossing his arms in a snobbish way to watch Geralt leaning on their new dining table, hands flat as he had his head dropped down, thoroughly thinking it through.
"You're panicking as well because you've been too distracted with your delightful slumber with your midget that you were slacking and your witcher senses were unrealiable because of your protective fingers threading along the scented locks of her hair---"
The witcher snapped his head back to see Jaskier forming flowery sentences about what he saw last night. Though, he processed it and simply to say that he peeked through his room to see you and Geralt cuddled in each other's arms, "Did you enter my chambers?"
Jaskier looked around to see who he was talking to, but see no one and muttered an answer devoid of guile, "No?"
Geralt roughly growled, his nose scrunched in ferocity as he gave the bard a sharp glint of his cat-eyes. He should've left the door locked last night, "I'm locking the door next time. You can't be trusted anymore, bard."
The bard had a smug look on his face, a winning grin because of how he had caught the witcher red-handed. Geralt gave him a subtle roll of his eyes; ignoring the gloat etching his features.
The princess of Cintra stood in the middle of the kitchen, her beige silky night gown all bloody from her thighs down to her feet like there has been bloody murder. She was cocking her head in a way that tells she was wondering what has happened and why she feels no pain other than the part of her lower belly.
"Geralt, the only thing hurting is my stomach. What beast was it?"
"I...don't know," the witcher sincerely murmured, sighing a loud one as he straightened his back and stood tall, his amber eyes scanning Cirilla from head to foot to see what else was wrong; though, she appeared to be utterly normal, "---If it was a beast, then it is too conniving to have invaded our home,"
You cautiously took a trek down the stairs, your soft pitter-patters along the wooden staircase can be heard by the witcher as he instantly snapped his head to where you're coming from. Howbeit, before even jumping on the last step, you've took a sneaky peak at the family; head out in the open as your eyes immediately saw questioning amber eyes that held softness beneath the glow while Cirilla and Jaskier has been arguing.
What a wonderful sight to wake up in the morning; maybe having your three wishes from the djinn can be worthwhile when having Geralt look at you with a hint of such tenderness; stirring warmth growing in your belly.
You've raised a hand to give him a little wave before receiving a surprising small beam from the witcher himself as it was completely out of the blue; you've expected him to arch a brow or scowl but today seemed like a better day than he had prior to the mornings before.
Jaskier continued to deliver his tirades, palms spread out to exclaim Cirilla's current condition that knocked down all their feathers first thing in the morning, "Oh, dear gods! You looked like you were stabbed--stabbed in the---"
When you've suddenly emerged from the staircase and in the guise of being sardonic, your face was apathetic as you sarcastically muttered; pacing through the middle of the kitchen and interrupting their panic attacks, "This is why men can't handle a child alone; more so, a woman especially in times like this,"
From the moment you've seen Cirilla and that blood trailing down her legs, staining her night gown; you instantly knew what was happening. It was a natural circumstance in the lives of women.
Cirilla was having her first ever menstruation and these men were thinking of other worst case scenarios that made you wince from how uneducated they were about a menstrual cycle of a woman.
"Midget." You've heard Geralt acknowledged your presence, those butterflies in your stomach twerking from his gaze that rested upon your face; yet you tried your best to appear like he wasn't giving you any effect.
Probably too late for trying to let him know that you weren't that into him because you actually were. Big Time.
You were head over heels for the amber eyed witcher; even feeling a lot more after you've wished to a genie.
You bashfully bit the insides of your cheeks, clearing your throat to retain from squealing by how the witcher was trying to melt you with his peepers, "Tell me what beast it is," a demand was sent to the bard who gave you both rogueish looks when he glanced at the witcher who kept on staring like he was smitten with you.
The bard couldn't help but try to bite his tongue from saying any mockery to the both of you because there was a serious situation at hand, "Ughm. We've had hunches about a Nightwraith because it has been a full moon last night," Jaskier explained, holding his cup of water on one hand while the other was used as gestures as he continued to widen the scope further, "---Also, they appear in meadows or fields, and apparently we are in one. Right, Geralt?"
Jaskier glanced at the witcher, his forehead furrowed in seeing the witcher who still has his gaze fixated on you. The latter only gave him a pleasant hum to answer his question; never sparing him a glance.
"Hmm."
In which, Jaskier couldn't help but dramatically roll his eyes at Geralt from not being able to keep his eyes away from you, "Oh. Oh-no-no-no-no, here he goes again,"
You've clicked your tongue, trying to hide the blush from the witcher as you turned your heel a little and angled till you were face front with Cirilla and Jaskier, your side-profile only being seen by the man who kept his eyes solely on you like he was trying not to let you get away from his line of vision.
Oh, dear. He was utterly making your insides go in a twist.
"Nightwraiths eat women's coochies?" you lightly snorted, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing out loud by how clueless Jaskier was.
He slanted his head to the side, thinking what you actually meant and raised a hand, "I eat coochies," pause. You've snorted another one, louder than you had before as Cirilla was looking at the bard like he'd transformed into something else, "I mean, you were referring to cookies right?" Jaskier subtly pointed to the witcher beside you.
"---Geralt does too,"
Your snorts were suddenly ceased all of a sudden when the bard pointed to the witcher who still had his eyes fixated on you. The snort died down and so was the smile that was about to creep up your face at the realization and memories that Jaskier and the lady in the marketplace said that he'd bedded a lot of women already, only does his whores in brothels and actually thought he'll live like that forever.
Huh. So much for the hoity-toity. Geralt was a fuck boy in his dimension. He's a fuck boy, you needed to remember that. Do not relish in the thirst. Do not. Not today. Not ever.
Fuck boys are assholes. But, if it were boys looking like Geralt...then, why not the lucky impaling?
You cleared your throat and push those thoughts away, "I bet he really does. No doubt," a nasal, sarcastic response was enough for Geralt to give the bard a glare of his cat-eyes. He sensed the hostility when Jaskier has said whatever he did, and the small frown etched on your face was no good.
The bard gave him a shrug, eyes all guileless and questioning.
You crossed your arms in front of everyone, masking up the prior disappointment and insecurity with a small, teasing smile, "What's the next theory? Sylvannas Windrunner? Illidan Stormrage? any world of warcraft characters? Or maybe league of legends too?"
Jaskier was expressive as he bellowed, "Gibberish. Utter gibberish, Small rat. We do not speak alien language,"
"You know aliens?" you blinked in surprise, eyeing the bard with a look of antonishment for even knowing what an alien is before he began to take it back, "I don't know, did I say aliens?"
You've narrowed your eyes at the troubadour, trying to see if he knew what he was saying but see none but only a confused epic teller. One tap, two taps on your arm and you gave a tiny beam at everyone, giving each a look of reassurance as your gaze lasted longer when you've passed by Geralt and then Kolby who was crouched under the living room table.
They've waited for your answer, patiently and intrigued by what they could learn from a person who lived in another dimension. You gave a soft sigh before grinning like a cheshire cat, "You are panicking over a girl having her period,"
Thus, your explanation made their foreheads crease a lot more as they couldn't understand.
"Do you both trust me?" you've given Jaskier and Geralt a look. The witcher gruffly answered in a jiffy, quick as a wink when he did so; leaving Jaskier to give him the craziest expression he could create.
"I do."
"We don't especially when you came from another dimension---" he gave his friend a double take, feigning the stun and offence as he brought a hand to his chest like he broke his heart, "---A traitor you are, Geralt!"
You gave the bard a crooked grin, shaking your shoulders to infuriate him, "It seems like your witcher trusts me enough, Jaskier."
He crossed his arms like a braggart, loudly huffing to his disappointment and shaking his head in consternation, "Oh, I swear he's acting like the dunderhead he is again. Next thing you know, he's as cold as a dead Alghoul's bum,"
A quick trudge towards Cirilla, you've gently held onto her shoulders; giving her a genial gaze of your eyes as she eyed you back skeptically.
"Cirilla, you need a warm bath. You feel uncomfortable, correct?" in consequence to your question, she'd felt another blood flow down her thighs, making her squirm from how uncomfortable it felt. It's like an endless stream that she couldn't handle, "I want the blood to stop, it doesn't cease!"
You gave her arm a gentle pat, trying to dispel her fears and perturbation about periods, "Don't panic. That's normal. I also do get that because I'm a woman. I prolly would soon. We get it every month, alright?"
Jaskier paced towards where Geralt was; regarding what seem to be a captivated witcher who was watching you handle Cirilla like a mother.
"Geralt." the minstrel tried to catch his attention, yet he paid no heed as Geralt was likely and certainly giving you the heart eyes already, "---I thought I may never see you acting like this again but this is perfect for bribery and another marvelous epic to be written. Geralt of Rivia, thoroughly under the rat's spell as you may see fit, looking like the witcher would give her the sun, an eye of a dragon, a dead body of a Golum or the moon if she wanted to," his bard of a friend scoffed, finding humor from the doting Butcher of Blaviken.
Geralt turned a blind eye from Jaskier's jeers. His expression lethargic as he continued to gawk.
"Why? Why must I be born as a lady?!" Cirilla fumed out of nowhere, slightly growling to whatever mischances she have gotten.
The rhymist threw an arm around the smitten witcher, his silence humoring him to the bones as he snorted, "You can ask Pavetta and Duny on that,"
Cirilla of Cintra gave him a lour as you bunched the hem of her nightgown, bringing the ends of it in a degree that let you saw the small pool of blood she created. Obviously, there were no napkins in their time if the men in the household don't even know what a period is. You tried to think how you would get one when you remembered those DIY menstrual pads in Pinterest that you have saved in your phone; maybe making one would be nice, "Will you get me new clothes for Cirilla? Let's give you a bath, shall we? I'll also try to create something that can help the blood from dripping,"
The request was sent to Jaskier, since he wouldn't be frugal for any help that was asked. Though, you were moved and taken aback when you've instantly saw Geralt stepping out of the ground he was rooted on and literally given effort to your demands.
He was certainly giving you wonders that will never cease in each passing day.
"I can get that---" the bard stumbled when Geralt moved away to your command, puffing out a breath as it gave his heart a jump, "---Oh. Geralt's doing it already, you're quite helpful today, witcher. You're very much appreciated!" he loudly tattled, watching Geralt evaporate from the walls of the staircase.
The bard snickered; giving you a shit eating grin, "The power of honeypot can be quite impressive, don't you think?"
You've gave him a baffled glance, tilting your head in wonder. Honeypot. You thought in the back of your mind, it sounded nice and scrumptious to your ears and so you left it at that; sending the bard a twinkle of your smile and an ingenuous flicker of your eyes because you didn't understand him and his references but chose to be kind.
"Maybe it is quite impressive, Jaskier."
You were gobsmacked to see a room that had a largely square in-built bath tub nailed to the floor of the room; like a bath house back in the medieval times. You've crouched beside the undressed princess, mindlessly tapping the floor with your index finger as you waited. They seem to be bold in terms of their body; thinking she would dismiss you once she was unclad from her night gown but alas, Cirilla wanted you with her. Not that you mind because she was also a woman and maybe she was just very much comfortable with you.
"I must say, you like Geralt?" she uttered, very straight to the point as you stopped tapping on the marble floors. You've heard a splash and realized she was already washing the milk away from her skin.
That question. Do you want her to know your honest thoughts?
"Oh--what?! yes, I mean--no. Yes?" you sheepishly stuttered, swallowing your embarrassment down your throat because it was that obvious to the eyes of people.
Cirilla quietly giggled from your bashful reaction; finding it funny that you were that shy enough to tell her.
"You always blush. Always clumsy and fidgeting whenever he's around. It tells me how much you like him when he could get you acting weird like that,"
You bit your lip, feeling the heebie-jeebies come around because of the topic at hand, "I think he likes you too," she surprisingly revealed, scrubbing some Epsom salt around her skin.
The abrupt presumption made your heart skip a beat. That wouldn't be possible especially that you were...you. A weird, insecure, small woman who came from another dimension wouldn't be liked by a dashing witcher. You expected nothing with the affection you had for Geralt, your hopes always on the low to keep the disappointments lesser and the pain more tolerable.
Besides, you were useless. A midget who held no strength nor magic within you. Your existence would certainly only be a burden for the witcher, so expecting fondness from him was the least of your worries.
You were happy this way, just seeing or having the witcher around before he sends the cargo off to her rightful dimension.
Cirilla was unaware of your frown as you crouched behind her, she continued to tell her findings out in the open; oblivious of how your self-doubt was starting to eat you up alive, "Geralt can be quite unscrupulous by bedding tons of women in brothels,"
You studied her from behind, forcing a smile at the honest facts you've received since the day you've arrived, "Who'd given you that talk?"
"Jaskier. He tells them whenever he's drunk. You couldn't trust the bard with your secrets, he tells them in the midst of his intoxication,"
"Yet, he didn't give you the period talk. Nobody did, even though they knew what it was and just chose to act like idiots," Your mouth fell into a tight, thin line. Obvious that you were dismayed by their lack of teaching thereof, it was not like you expected the witcher to give her the talk; Geralt of Rivia, teaching Cirilla what a menstruation is to his child of surprise. It can be comical because all he'll ever say was 'Hmm's' and a ton of 'horseshit' with that scowl on his face because he didn't know what it even is. You've had hopes for the toubadour but he'd crashed those faith of yours by telling Cirilla that it was probably a Nightwraith.
You'ce softly bitten your lower lip as you tried to elucidate what a menstruation is to the princess, "Having a period, symbolizes your maturity. You're beginning to grow older, a flower that's about to bloom. You're turning into a woman now," pause. "You can bear a child if you..do the birds and the bees with the man you love, Cirilla. But, bleeding means to tell you that your ovaries is actually punishing you to death because you haven't gotten pregnant yet,"
You've heard soft splashing of the waters, seeing the child turn to her curiosity, "Birds and the bees?" there was a soft wince that came from you, lately realizing the words that came out of your mouth. So much for being educated about periods yet here you are labeling sex as 'birds and the bees' like you were a Tumblr account.
Nevertheless, you continued for the better of life and for her sake as well, "It's an act where a man and a woman does a natural deed after they're married or before when they both prefer it to as long as it is with consent. It can bear you a child," another biting of your lip got you scrapping your dried, chapped lips; tasting a little bit of blood as you do and suddenly hissing to yourself as your fingers held onto your vermillion, "---Sometimes, it can be because of love or utter lust. Happens between lovers,"
The lioness of Cintra gave a nod of understanding, swashing herself with her bathwater before straightaway delivering her thoughts to you, "If you and Geralt become lovers will you do the birds and the bees too?"
The question caught you off guard. Entirely floored as you felt your saliva caught in your throat, igniting loud sputter of coughs as you felt like choking from her query, "W-WHAT?" Cirilla beamed back at you, looking so child like as her smile turned into a grin.
You couldn't imagine how stunned you appeared to be like at the princess, "---Did you even understood a single word I said?"
She seemed to not care for your genuine explanation about menstruation and took your 'sex' labeling into account, the mistake of naming it like a fable would probably drown you in your own shame as she went on; especially now that she knew you honestly told how you liked her father or step-father or---how Geralt is labeled for the princess.
Her smile turned pensive as she poured the water from her palms down her arms. She continued to wash, "Though, you probably won't be bearing a child of your own,"
Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together, perplexed by what she was trying to point out, "Huh?"
"Barren. Sterile. Comes in becoming a witcher when they had their trials,"
Now, you were gobsmacked. Utterly dumbstruck that you couldn't form any words to say.
Your heart stopped beating from the news. His fate took everything away from him, included being infertile; a man's duty on earth to have an heir or another form of happiness for one man is to see a child of his own. Yet, because he was a witcher; it was impossible that any form of magic wouldn't do the job just as how Cirilla explained the whole thing to you.
Though, there was Cirilla as his child of surprise so you didn't know if it was a bad thing or a good thing for Geralt.
You've looked at her, solemnly. "They've taken that away from him too?"
She subtly nodded, peering back at you, batting her long eyelashes as her blue eyes gave you an earnest gaze, "They've taken everything from him. Even his childhood which explains why he's...unstable and complicated to understand," pause. "---If he somehow hurts your emotions with his words, he probably doesn't mean that at all or it's just a habit that he does; pushing people away because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings well,"
Thus, as she muttered her next words; her eyes turned downcast and face turned as long as a fiddle like she'd remember something that already was in the past, "---It took decades for Geralt to accept his duties for me,"
The whole talk ended with that. His duties for the princess of Cintra; giving you a head start that she was his child of surprise for a distinct reason. A reason that made the princess fall into silence and you didn't try to dig onto the information because apparently, she appears to be sensitive at the topic and you respected it.
Cirilla offered that you should bathe as well when she was finally dressed in casual leather clothes that had been given by the djinn since you've wished for it. They were now blessed with more clothes and food; you name it, the Djinn has made it possible.
You gently took your bandages off, seeing how it was better than before. A lot better. The medicine was magical for it to be better in just three days; or maybe the numbness tells you that it was going well when it probably even wasn't on the inside.
"I'll fetch you your towels, Y/N." Cirilla softly announced as she was all dressed and proper, her ashen hair wet and all down as she fixed her leather boots.
You gave her a genuine smile as you tried pulling your tight leather boots free, "Thank you, Princess."
She stood beside the thick frame of the wooden door, brushing her locks with her fingers and trying to untangle them as she talked, "Ciri or Cirilla will be fine. It feels different and...enlightening when somebody doesn't tries to treat me like one,"
She was that type of princess. A humble one too. You were obviously lucky on getting to meet them because they were decent and kind. A quick nod was sent for her wants as you deeply respected it before she left the bathroom.
Before you could even go stark naked, Jaskier was kind enough to drop the towels for Cirilla; you've sent your thanks to the bard but eventually groaned when he left and saw how it was a bunch of face towels and not actually a large bath towel that you could use while you try to get your clothes in Ciri's closet because you forgot to take them with you.
So, there was reasons as to why Geralt was sometimes hostile as he can get. However, the antagonism has somehow faded through time to time for certain reasons; especially noticing how gentle he can get after raking those fingers through your hair as he slept was the most amiable gesture you have gotten from any man, ever.
But, Jaskier was right. You never know when he begins to turn cold like an Alghoul's bum because he was complicated to understand sometimes.
You were thinking about Geralt as you sat in the end of the tub. His prompt thoughtful gestures that certainly dithers your feelings for him while you were in your birthday suit. A soft creak of the door was heard and you languidly continued to scrub at your breasts; giving them gentle rubbing with some Epsom salt with a little bit of lemon that you've managed to get from the cupboards; not glancing over the princess as you pointed at a small wooden chair and expressed your gratitude for her kindness.
"Thank you, Cirilla." you continued to heedlessly exfoliate your body; abruptly pointing at the chair as your eyes were fixated on your body, "You can lay the towels over there, I can get it."
Chances of being lucky has never been a part in your life. Hence, hearing that familiar, rough, low baritone of a voice you've desired to have for the rest of your life as you bathed was surely giving you the shilly-shally when you've seen Geralt of Rivia standing rooted on the ground; his amber eyes bemisting with obscure thoughts that you certainly also felt as his eyes were glued to your perky, unclad chest that was displayed before him.
He was a man; heedful of his needs and wants. Especially that the woman bathing in front of him has been clouding his mind since day one. The witcher would obviously stare and ogle at the unexpected blessing that you ought to share.
Geralt was apparently staring at your boobs and he shamelessly seemed to not care at all.
"Ugh," he hoarsely croaked out, those glowing peepers clouding with something primal, raking your form with those piercing eyes as you were knocked out of your socks by seeing the witcher whom stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the bath room, "I've fetched you your---" Geralt cleared his throat, forehead creasing in surprise as he went on with his gawking; ceasing the moment to sketch the image inside his head by heart.
"---breasts---towels, I mean towels. Fuck," the latter gruffly cussed, scrunching his nose for even admitting that he was impudently ogling at your tatas.
You didn't know what to do as your arms began to fidget, trying to find anything that could cover you up as you panicked; not used to being in decent in front of people especially by a man who has crept inside your heart. The water furiously splashed as you squirmed in your side of the tub, yelping when you've seen those face towels far from your reach and you've decided to just cover your breasts with an arm.
Fortunately, your breasts weren't that huge enough for some nipple slipping. So, an arm would suffice. As well as your heated center that was covered with your bath water.
"Geralt!" you've finally called out the elephant in the room, doing nothing but stare at you like you've saved his life, also humming in a pleasing tone as he blinked, arching a brow in amusement.
It was utmost shameful to be seen by a man you were fond with; thoroughly starked like you were showing him your adorable sized watermelons at the witcher who didn't seem to mind the image. "Where is Cirilla?!" you demanded and panicked, the heat flowing up your face when you glanced at Geralt in utter stupefaction.
The witcher was trying his best not to snicker from what he'd seen from you like it was a gift to mankind; his mankind, "Plotting her vengeance for my attitude prior to that day," he remembered that he'd pissed the princess when he planned to bring you back in your world with a Djinn. Therefore, Cirilla was salty about the whole situation and didn't forget the retribution that he needed to receive after pissing the child off.
You could hear the nark and frustration in his timbre, though he sounded to be too quelled to your surprise that he actually didn't find Cirilla's plan to be rather much annoying because of what benefits was given, "---and she already got what she fucking wanted. That cunning child,"
The latter clicked his tongue, blinking out of his amazement in giving him an accidental flash of your breasts. Well, he'd seen more breasts than any type of normal, but seeing yours was different. You could see the crooked smile wanting to carve upon his lips, making you narrow your eyes back at the witcher who found everything delightful, "She promised you were...decent,"
Your brow instantly rose at that, skeptically glaring back at the witcher, "Is this decent enough for you?!"
Thus, he cocked his head to the side, feeling his heated gaze on you alone; never leaving, "Even...better?"
You've finally hugged yourself together, both arms crossed to cover those angels you were hiding from, giving Geralt the death stare as the witcher continued to gape; eyes definitely intrigued for what else could he find pleasing to look at. His face was now back to being stoic and serious but his eyes seem to be the opposite.
"Stop staring!" you timidly commanded, voice higher than usual due to the embarassment.
He didn't need to be told twice. Geralt sighed in way that got him smiling, entirely beguiled by your reaction.
You were a conservative woman, even pure as well based on how you were panic-stricken by being immodest. Unlike those other women who he has been with, they were all poised and unfazed by showing their perfectly shaped bodies at the witcher who they find utmost alluring and ravishing.
Yet, here you were. Being you.
"I'm trying." Geralt snickered, his grin lifting his lips in haste when you couldn't see his face as he turned around.
It was like you can feel him grinning. You knew he was grinning and so you stated your accusations out loud as he was grinning from ear to ear, "I can see you grinning! Judge my body for all you want! You probably saw better," "
But, his smile slightly fell when he'd heard your voice waver a little at the final thought of your message; hearing a little bit of insecurity or maybe a lot more if you were covering them up to not let them see.
"You---You can leave the towels there. Don't look as you do!" you pointed at the wooden chair close to him, raking his form from hair to foot and still couldn't believe how large his build was. A puff of breath left your lips when you could feel yourself grow hot that had more than a blush, your fingers suddenly flying up till you've touched the weird symbol that was inscribed in between the valley of your breasts.
The symbol was totally strange although familiar because it held no meaning for you. It was like a colorless tattoo or a scar that was meant to be there; an image that you have already seen or encountered because it was with Geralt.
It consisted of the witcher's medallion.
You've only seen it when you began undressing, wondering why it was even there in the first place.
"Hmm." he gravelly hummed, seeing his shoulders slump as he thought about it too long. How would he even place the towel without looking like an idiot pacing backwards? "I'm warning you!"
Geralt gave a scoff, turning his booted heel halfway that you could only see his gorgeous side-profile. He never looked at your way again, though it was thoroughly tempting for the witcher but he respected your wishes and just stared straight at the wooden chair that was a meter away from him.
Your naked presence didn't cease his jests, "It doesn't sound too threatening now, does it? Especially that it comes from you,"
An adorable growl erupted from you, igniting a chuckle from the witcher as it was the first time he heard it for all his life and it was certainly the cutest, "What are you implying then?!"
"That you're a tiny midget trying to scare off a big, bad witcher," his grin grew bigger as he went on with his teasing.
You've eyed the large towel in his hands, actually thanking the witcher for sending them off to you because of Jaskier's foolishness; grateful that you wouldn't run off the hallways completely naked because you only had face towels, "Is that even a decent towel? Not a face towel like how Jaskier tried to give?"
Despite of only seeing his side profile, you were sure his grin fell from the moment you've mentioned the bard, "He'd went in?" he grumbled with a spiteful tone, making you question him in silence, "---with you bathing?"
"What's wrong with that, Geralt?"
There was a murmur, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he said but you knew it doesn't sound like he enjoyed the idea of Jaskier walking in on you while you were unclad like it was nothing unlike him who'd been given warnings and death stares like you wanted to throw knives at him.
"That bard,"
Was he feeling the way you're actually thinking how he felt? you couldn't help but try not to scoff this time, never wanting to get caught that you were finding his irked reaction rather funny, "I was clothed when he did. Unlike you,"
He'd ignored your response as you watched him saunter towards where the chair is, gently dropping them on top of the clean set of face towels that Jaskier has managed to give, "These are your towels, midget." Geralt mindlessly muttered, heedless of his next words that came out of his mouth, "---all new, soft and perky...Ugh, fuck."
The witcher rigidly stood straight, his shoulders falling as he exhaled a long breath; waiting for the tumult of your loud protests, "You're describing my boobs!"
Did he seriously just tell you that your breasts were perky? Small? Or you just thought perky meant small for you?
Geralt had his brows in a twist, crossing his arms as he glared at the wooden chair, probably already dying from how he was giving daggers to the poor seat in front of him, "Your what?"
"My watermelons! My tatas! I know what you're thinking and how dare you tell me they're small?!"
The latter didn't meant it that way. He meant that it was upright and firm. Definitely firm as he'd already seen it with his own amber eyes, "I wasn't saying it was miniscule," he explained with a very relaxed pitch of his voice. The topic not shaking him off.
"---It's the right size for you,"
You were now red-faced, finding the whole ordeal of talking about your breasts with the man you fantasized about was giving your features a reaction of being too flustered by the words he say, "Geralt!" it was a sheepish loud hush and scold for the witcher to cease his talking, "Stop talking about it! This is embarassing!"
Geralt amusedly clicked his tongue, amber eyes downcast as you saw a slip of his smile before fully turning his broad back as he ignored you on the side, eyes focused at the door which will give him a way out.
Maybe after you bathed, he needed to also have his based on how your irresistable presence began to take its camp inside his leather pants.
"I'll...alright," he roughly cleared his throat, a hand on the wooden door before you suddenly beckoned him to stop.
"Wait!"
The witcher could help you with whatever symbol was on your chest. He was the only person who could explain what was happening to your body right?
Those constant withering you feel on your chest whenever he was around, a desire that wanted you having him up close and maybe ever closer than you wish for? The scorching want to touch his face, feel his body caressing you in a way that nobody else could?
The type of scorching thirst that made your soul corrupted from all the lewd thoughts inside your head. You've had it last night, when Geralt was up close and raking his fingers through your locks; by the time you were sweating and having the potent urge to just devour the man who was thoughtful enough to put you to sleep, all you wanted was to be raunchy with all the obscene whisperings inside your head.
It was like somebody wanted you to do it; to have your body corrupted by the witcher and you didn't know if he felt the same way.
Your thoughts was heading to a path that you didn't know about; since the moment that the witcher came into your life.
Geralt heard the splashes of the water, meaning to say you stood up; utterly naked and wet from your bath that it made the witcher's body turn stiff. "You're making this difficult for me, midget..." it was a serious warning that got your chest feeling all sorts of things again.
You swallowed the filthy want away and covered your body with the towel that reached beneath your knees as you paced towards where he was, "Don't worry, I'm all clothed now. I just need to show you something,"
"I've seen more than enough of your breasts that can get me---" he started with a dangerous tone of his timbre, but you immediately backpaddled and tied the towel in between the valley of your breasts, the symbol showing above the towel as you awkwardly fidgeted your toes on the ground, "No! Not that! This!"
He'd felt your nervous pats on his shoulder, urging him to turn around and when he did; Geralt was aware of that shining symbol carved on your chest like a necklace that he also had.
The witcher stared at it with utmost peculiarity, his forehead creased too deeply that made you ponder if he was mad at what he was seeing but you knew he was just trying to understand whatever it is that was outlined on your chest.
Thus, he'd inspected each and every curvature, ending at an image that he also had on as he worn it as a necklace for whenever he was in battles since it was sensitive to magic.
"It's...weird," you curiously mumbled, glancing down at the glyph on your chest before tilting your head till you could see the real one gleaming before you, rested upon his wooly chest that you so wanted to touch since last night.
The way it crawled in the deepest parts of you was antagonizing as you couldn't find any relief other than whenever Geralt was touching you, it somehow lessen the uncomfortable, scathing feeling.
A very odd feeling that couldn't be helped.
Hence, in the twinkling of an eye; Geralt already has his calloused, rough fingers merely brushing that mark you had on the valley of your chest, sparking a hitch of your breath as it got stuck in your throat; the witcher, touching a part of you that nobody else did yet.
"Did I say you could touch?" you bashfully whispered, all flustered when you've felt him gently tracing the emblem.
"Hmm."
"But, your touch somehow helps the ache and the bath did too as well," an earnest answer was sent to the witcher, his amber eyes snapping away from the symbol to give you a glance; seeing a satisfied flicker of your eyes as you found it soothing, "Very weird,"
From the moment his fingertips came in contact with the image stuck in your chest, you've held out a satisfying sigh; feeling the slight sting slowly pass by like a wind when Geralt has his fingertips on your flustered skin. His amber eyes were heavy, focused and entirely warm as his gaze darkened in question.
"How weird must it be?"
Was it also the same feeling he had before you both went to sleep? the moment you both had when you've first arrived after going home from the swamps? That temptatious feeling that got him all frustrated for desiring you?
Thence, you continued to dance on fire, whispering your next words like a secret you never wanted to reveal. A surprising urge that got you all bashful but somehow gaining self-assurance for even saying these things out loud, especially to the man whom you were smitten with, "I...feel things that shouldn't been thought about, corrupted feelings that would describe me as sinful..."
Were you really saying all these out loud? How? Why? yes, you were and you didn't know what force has taken you to even say these out loud like a minx.
The witcher leaned down for your sake, never getting to entirely tilt your head till you were giving yourself a stiff neck. He'd had those amber eyes of him, dancing in curiousness; his eyes sharp, cimmerian and held scampishness that you never saw until today.
"---about you..." the sound was utterly guileless. His thoughts wanting nothing but to taint the purity away if he was given a chance. The silence he has been giving, blinding you into saying more; hoping he would take the chance before it even ended without you knowing, "---It's like I've wished for something that will make me suffer...makes me more curious about you than I've ever been before,"
You've held your breath, seeming to be enraptured by the witcher who wanted nothing but to melt you in his gaze. His glowing Aurum eyes enticed by the perilous spell you've cast as he cocked his head to the side, a look of mischief mixing with the curiosity drowning in his peepers.
"You are having desires," he murmured as a matter of fact, enticed by the close proximity that you both shared. His breath fanning your face in a way that got you smiling as you've genuinely thought out loud, "Scorching...desires that makes me pant like a dog in heat, Geralt."
You could feel Geralt slightly move closer, inclining his head a bit more to have a better look upon your face, the brilliance of his enchanting eyes definitely more bewitching as he was giving you the mischief that pooled around his eyes, "Which explains...last night?"
Your heart was pounding so fast as you've held onto the ends of your towel, tightly than you could ever do because playing with fire was technically not a great idea especially when it was his; feeling the apprehension starting to take over by his intimidating but fascinating presence.
"Yes. You--You didn't need to state the obvious---"
A soft yelp was released as the witcher abruptly hauled an arm around your waist, grabbing you like a basket of groceries as he pulled you closer; overlapping that personal space you needed as he peered down before you, amber eyes burning with the desire you both wanted to release. You've ogled back at the man, blinking with that vindicated look of yours as it made him crazier and unstable.
Hence, his reply made you crazier as well because the least you expected was his virtue on filling that forbidding feeling that was needed to satiate.
"I could revel those desires you have that is needed to sate," he hoarsely taunted, emphasizing his words while he somehow stared between your lips and those batting doe-eyes as he seemed to be ensorcelled by you, "---I'll indulge your curiosity all night long or even days thereafter," his next words turned breathlessly low, stirring a primal warmth that got you suddenly excited for what he could offer.
"---If you'll let me,"
You were totally swept off your feet, maybe literally as you felt the tip of his nose tickle yours in a way that got you captivated, saying words that surely got the better of yourself as you fluttered your eyes closed, feeling his warm breath hitting your mouth enticingly palpable and peril to even experience, "God, That...was hot,"
Was that the response you only managed to create? Yes. You've honestly told the witcher he was hot when he was basically trying to woo you over and fill in those desires you wanted.
You've felt his breathing turn slow and erratic, the pillowy texture of his vermillion slightly tickling your mouth as it made your heart thump so fast that you were worried you were having a heart attack. Your eyes tightly shut just waiting to be kissed by the witcher himself as this moment was undeniably flattering.
You knew you were looking constipated while you awaited for those soft lips to land on yours. But, what you got was just a low, hushed growl and a puff of air that roughly slapped your lips as the witcher groaned out loud, his mouth momentarily whisking away that made your heart itch in a way that got you softly whining to yourself when he'd slightly leaned back.
Your nose was scrunched up to the extent of telling him that you were dismayed from the lack of lip touching like it was an intentional tease of his sly self. But, you never said it out loud to lessen the embarrassment that you wanted to kiss him that badly.
He was truly the living thirst to your randy teenage life before and a person who made you insane.
"The bard just doesn't know when to stop," his fiery, golden eyes looked through you, but it seemed to be distant as he had his eyebrows in a frustrated twist, nose also scrunched in a way that he was completely irked to the bones.
The witcher had a nasty scowl on his face. Did your breath stink?
"JASKIER." Out of nowhere, Geralt loudly exclaimed through gritted teeth, his arm around you never leaving as you stared into his eyes that also never left yours since he had you in his burly arms.
Due to your frantic state that keeps you antsy and fidgety, it decides to strike while the iron is hot. Meaning to say that you're taking the perfect opportunity to do something embarrassing. You've arduously stood on your tippy toes, struggling to reach Geralt's height before puckering those chapped lips of yours and doing the inevitable.
A quick, soft, honeyed peck on the side of Geralt's lips got him rooted on the ground, expecting it to land on those mouth of his that you've been dying to kiss but decided to taunt the big, bad witcher by pressing a peck that was dangerously close to where he wanted.
The latter was used to women who were straightforward, sexual and knew what they wanted. Thence, having a woman who's timid for wanting what she wanted was giving him a headache because of how your taunts were poking that rage of desire he had with you.
It was utmost frustrating and irksome because he wanted more.
You've dropped your feet to the ground before you heard the door creak where Jaskier emerged from and had a huge grin on his youthful pretty face, "Why, does anyone want me to rub chamomile onto their lovely bottoms?"
Geralt's hold on you slightly loosened as he looked at you with that questioning and frustrated look on his face, giving a grimace for whatever child-like kiss you have given him. It was completely unsatisfying. He didn't expect that and you couldn't help but want to snort and giggle at the same time from how stunned he appeared to be.
The witcher snapped his head to where the bard is, giving him a sharp lour that tells Jaskier that he ruined something important and he better get ready for some beating.
Jaskier gave a nonchalant shrug, "Don't give me that look, I was about to give the small rat her chamomile but it appears to be like she's having her own kind of chamomile being given by you, witcher." he roguishly muttered, wiggling his eyebrows.
You were sleek enough to slide away from Geralt's sturdy arms, swerving from his delightful presence with those butterflies flying wildly inside your stomach. A deep groan of disapproval was heard in the room when you've both given the men looks of query and saw Geralt glaring at the bard for his interruption.
Your fingers began to fidget over the hem of your towel, hair all drenched as it dripped to the ground. The citrusy scent that has been your brand lingered in the air as Jaskier gave you a once over, his pretty blue eyes scanning your indecent outfit before you've seen his adam's apple bob up and down; the bard's eyes twinkling in some sort of way that made you even more flustered.
"Ughm, I need to dress up? Bye!" you nervously exclaimed, shifting on your footing before grabbing onto the door and escaping from the eyes of both men that lingered on you.
When the door slammed shut, Geralt continued giving the bard a stinky scowl. Jaskier eyed him skeptically, muttering a defensive 'what?!' before hearing a dangerous grumble of the witcher's protests.
"Bard." Geralt gravelly warned, his mouth releasing an intense blasphemy for the defensive troubadour who tried appearing innocent like he wasn't admiring your newly bathe look, "I hope a fucking Nightwraith gelds you at night,"
YES. IT’S FOOKIN’ LONG AND Y’ALL GOTTA HANG ON TO THE NEXT CHAPTER BECAUSE IT’LL BE LIT! (Sorry if there are typos in this chapter!) FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!
Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthor
#muse: geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt x you#geralt x reader#geralt x female reader#geralt x y/n#the witcher#witcher au#the witcher au#jaskier#cirilla#white wolf#butcher of blaviken#Henry Cavill#henry cavill x you#henry cavill x y/n#henry cavill x reader#WOTN#witcher of the night series#Witcher of the night#geralt of rivia fic#geralt of rivia series#seb-owns-these-tatas#the witcher fic
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The Marks of Running Ink pt.85
The Walking Dead [Soulmate AU]
Pairing: Negan x Tory Miller (ofc)
Summary: History had never been wrong about the lengths human beings would go for survival, for pride, for love… Tory Miller never thought she would see it unfold with her own eyes, not after the end of an era, but she could understand. Now, their war was being fought in all fronts. Negan’s was for pride, Rick’s was for survival, both of them were unstoppable forces. And her war? Tory’s war was for love.
Warnings: SLOW BURN, angst, swearing, death, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, child endangerment, general trauma, drama, mentions of infidelity and polygamy, general lack or morals, mentions of nudity, graphic sexual scenes (nsfw), mentions of blood, apocalyptic world. As always, I don’t want to give the story away in the tags, read at your own risk.
Author’s note: so, I was out of tumblrs all of yesterday, DNS error or something. Anyway, I published in AO3 first, wich is...weird.
You’ve been waiting for this chapter too. It’s been four years in the making.
gif credit
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
War
Doveport, VA
Tory tried to keep her hands from fidgeting as Rhodes prepared the instruments for Vera’s c-section, but it was difficult.
“I haven’t done one of these since my resident years.” The good surgeon commented with a self-deprecating smile that shot her nerves to the stratosphere.
“Not a good look, Rhodes.” Tory muttered with so much acidity she surprised herself.
His green eyes fell on her with a gently understanding expression and he continued preparing in silence, but it didn’t actually last.
“You remind me of my wife, she didn’t appreciate my sense of humor either.” Henry…Rhodes, looked away. “She was a registered nurse, got infected and we didn’t realize, I had a late shift.”
She knew what came next, the doctor would tell her his story, and Tory didn’t think she could bear with the knowledge of what happened to his family.
“N-”
“She’d bitten our son, devoured him actually.”
Tory’s stomach churned uncomfortably at the words; no, it was actually her Peanut moving; but it was still as awful.
“How…” Rhodes turned to look at her. “How can you say it so calmly?”
“I can’t change it, nor the fact that I buried out largest kitchen knife in her skull with all my might.” The doctor’s words fell flat, but his eyes were ignited, a fury she could hardly reconcile with his gentleness was burning in his irises. “Have you ever had to do something like that?”
She nodded.
“Many times, for many different reasons,” Tory paused and then looked him in the eye. “some I even enjoyed.”
Henry Rhodes smiled at her apparent cheek.
“You don’t seem to be quite as savage.” He commented.
“I guess this brave new world has taught us that we are all barbarians in a way.”
Like Negan? Her inner dialogues were getting on her nerves these days, but that little voice was not wrong.
Her new lover said nothing, but he seemed to agree with her.
He’d made his work area look decently like a hospital set-up, but the fact that they were severely lacking didn’t escape Tory. There was no anesthesia save from a few milligrams of morphine and lidocaine. Vera would have to be severely drugged with one or simply numbed with the other, and her friend was lucky too, for remembering her blood type, which Roy was compatible with, surprisingly.
They had actually started keeping a little blood bank in one of the precious freezers that Charlotte had pilfered from a warehouse near Greenbrier. They hoped it would not be needed.
Doctor Rhodes straightened his spine and gave her one last look.
“We’re ready.”
It was stupid.
They were most definitely not ready, and Vera was infinitely angry at them, not that she had a chance to express her anger. Chase bore most of the brunt.
“You did this to me, you asshole!” she hissed as Henry cut through her uterus and Tory tried to drain the fluid as fast as she could, while Addison readied the soft flannels to clean the children.
“I am sorry, my love, I promise you,” Chase held her hand, not even flinching at the iron grip of her fingers, which Tory definitely admired. “We are not doing this again, you know that.”
Time would come to prove him wrong, but they knew jack shit at the moment.
“You have a boy.” Rhodes interrupted and Vera burst into tears as the boy started to cry weakly, visibly aggravated at being taken out of his warm cocoon. Once the umbilical cord was cut, Addison took the little boy and cleaned him with the specifically warmed water placed beside the bed.
“He is beautiful, Ve.” Addison whispered, before placing the little boy on his mother’s chest. Vera kissed his dark blond head as Chase whispered softly at his wife.
Rhodes took the opportunity to reach for the remaining twin, who was even tinier than the first.
“Also a boy.” Rhodes smiled and cut the cord, passing the baby to Addison again, while Chase tried to help Vera latch the first little boy.
Tory watched as Rhodes cleaned and detached Vera’s placenta, it was not…for the faint of heart, and this time, her stomach definitely protested at the sight. Tory admired the swift work of Rhodes’ hands as he cleaned, sew closed and sanitized Vera’s wound.
“The tie’s done, Vera. Now we need to dress the wound properly, okay?”
She simply nodded, but both parents were too busy with the little ones to actually pay decent attention, but Tory simply understood.
She helped Rhodes as he applied a bit more numbing before cleaning again and then properly dressing the wound. That required Addison and Chase’s help with the babies, as Tory kept Vera sitting upright and Rhodes bandaged her whole abdomen.
Vera kept as much composure as possible in the face of her pain, but her smile was radiant as Rhodes carried her to another bed and Tory gathered the soiled bed clothes and put them in the washing bin dedicated to the infirmary.
Chase and Vera were talking quietly when Tory came back to congratulate them, Addison was sitting at the end of the bed with a smile in her lovely face as Vera helped her youngest in latching to her breast. The baby fuzzed a little but finally took and he started gulping greedily, much to Tory’s amusement.
“Are you going to tell us the names? She asked the newly minted parents, who shared a look.
“We actually wanted to ask you something Tory,” Vera started softly. “You’ve said little about certain things, but Chase suggested…Thomas and Peyton.”
It was a terribly beautiful thing.
Tory hadn’t even thought about names for her own child, not really, who would in her situation? And here, Vera and Chase were offering their babies the names of her dead family members, but they were leaving Henry for her. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and she nodded, unable to speak through the sudden knot in her throat.
“It would be an honor, really guys.” She whispered, barely able to let the words out.
Chase gave her a grateful smile and Vera took his free hand.
“Thomas and Peyton Owens.”
“Welcome to the family.” Addison declared as she patted Tory’s hand and smiled.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
A week later
Negan woke up, and even though his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, he was hardly taking in the details of the drywall work.
It was the middle of the summer, and he was sure he felt cold all the same as he sat up on his mattress. The bed felt entirely too big for him alone, but he hadn’t dared call for any of his wives, he’d actually sent them away to help out to the bullet factory.
Finally, he got out of the bed and into the shower, it wasn’t the appropriate moment to be wasting time idly, contemplating all his past and future decisions.
Negan had a plan and that plan had to work.
I can’t watch you destroy him or watch him destroy you.
He scoffed at the words rolled through his thoughts, Tory had abused her moral standing a bit too much, and he wouldn’t admit that it had hurt to know she’d fucked someone else not even a week after leaving the Sanctuary, or that she kept doing it constantly enough to show in his arm.
Some part of him wondered if this was payback for what he’d made her suffer the past twenty-four years with his lack of care and disregard for her. It was a definite possibility.
Tory was a good person in the general sense, but she could be incredibly vindictive in very self-destructing ways, as Negan had realized once he got to know her better, and she played dirty, somewhere between grey and dark grey, if he was being specific.
Not that it mattered now.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
He watched the crowd under him and wondered if they were still here because they believed or because he was that fucking powerful.
Another thing that didn’t matter as long as he won today.
“Look at me, looking at you,” Negan forced a little chuckle. “in case it’s not abundantly clear why I’m grinning from ear to ear, it’s because you magnificent creatures are about to usher in a beautiful day.” His audience was captive, but he could see the disdain in some eyes, his wives included in that category, which stung. He’d been warned, hadn’t he? “Now what Rick and his mini-pricks, dicks and hicks don’t understand is that there are winners and there are losers. You lose, you die, you live, you win, you got a prize, you get the shit and that shit gets you more shit!”
His eyes fell on Eugene, whose expression was a mix of fear and determination, smart and still a coward.
“We got Eugene from Ricky! He made us enough bullets to blast their asses into the stratosphere, we live, they’ll die. See, what Ricky doesn’t understand, he thinks that everybody wins, that everyone lives, that’s cute, that’s bullshit. We show people the truth so they can be saved…” Negan stopped, just for dramatic effect. It finally dawned on him, right there, looking down into what he’d built.
Negan felt incredibly alone.
“Before it’s too late, that is who we are. We are Saviors!”
The roar of his people didn’t feel as jubilant as he wished it did.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Tory flinched a little and Rhodes turned to look at her.
“What is it?”
“There’s something wrong…” she rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, and sure, her eyes fell on Negan’s scrawl, it looked like a freshly made tattoo.
Now you don’t have a damn thing.
Rhodes gave her a long look and then sighed.
“What are you going to do?”
A thousand things went through her mind in that moment, and the glimpses of a workable plan started to form.
“I need to talk to Roy, excuse me Rhodes.” She said, her mind already away from them.
“Name’s Henry.” He corrected teasingly.
“I know.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
He knew he was a decent shooter, but Negan relished the trueness of his aim as he made a little triangle in the dummy with Rick’s name painted over it.
It felt strange, there was no remorse when he sent the group of idiots that would set the trap for Rick and his merry band of idiots, they had betrayed their own cause after all.
Eugene was suggesting a firing line, all aligned to fire at maximum capacity he said.
To take as many of them out as possible, one gun in every hand would be ideal.
Negan liked that.
It was perfect, almost poetic.
He looked at the priest, Gabriel still had trouble to properly focus his gaze, not that it would change things.
There would be a cleansing after this.
He would confess.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Tory entered the room where she knew her father was holed up with a talkie while fixing the numbers for crops and rationing for Doveport.
He didn’t even lift his head when she entered, nor did he make a move to stop her when she turned the radio on. Tory’s intent was on getting anyone to communicate her with Negan.
As she turned the talkie on, she heard Jesus’ voice first.
They were talking about coordinates that she knew had nothing to do with the Sanctuary, or…anything to do with shit.
“That’s the Old Mill Road.” Roy mentioned absentmindedly.
“What’s there?” Tory asked while dialing, looking for the right frequency.
“Nothing.”
So, she was right.
“Though,” Damn it. “there’s a big horde close to those parts.”
That intel was completely unknown to her.
Her father turned to look at her and smiled.
“You wouldn’t know, it’s something I saw years ago, that herd has been there for ages.”
A voice came from the talkie and Tory perked up.
Again, coordinates, this time from somewhere else, they mentioned a clearing and a hill.
“Roy, you remember Lucas’ frequency?”
“He didn’t have one,” Roy answered patiently. Her baby brain was really showing these days and Tory hated it when it didn’t let her explain herself.
“God, I miss cellphones.” She groused.
“Tory?”
“Yeah?”
“Today is supply day.”
Tory’s eyes widened.
“I thought we stopped that after what happened with the whole biter invasion of the Sanctuary, Roy.”
He tsked softly. “It’s actually just a check-up that Doveport is not about to raise in arms against the saviors.”
Tory blinked. “Do you imagine these people would do that?”
Roy shrugged. “Not precisely this lot, but you’ve seen Rick, and then there was Charlotte’s brother before that.”
“Charlotte had a brother?” Tory asked, truly surprised.
“Had is the operative word. He is dead.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Lucas sighed as he arrived at the wooden doors of Doveport and hung his head, propping it on the wheel. He was tired.
Martha had been awake most of the night, worrying about what would happen and how they would all survive if something happened. Lucas had no answers for her. She was right now, the person with most experience at the Sanctuary, everyone else was with Negan, setting up the trap for Rick.
“You look like shit, and that’s something coming from me.”
Lucas smirked at the sound of Tory’s voice and he lifted his head.
“Really, is that a way to welcome a friend, California?” he asked, watching as she rolled her eyes so hard, he couldn’t see the grey of her irises.
“I didn’t come to welcome you. I came to ask for a favor.”
“Whatever you want to use me for, Tory.” He joked. She grimaced.
“I want you to take me to Negan.” Tory asked, her eyes soulful and nervous.
“Except that.” Lucas answered.
“Lucas, please, I have a bad feeling.”
There was a moment of silence in which they just looked at each other. Lucas knew her, if he didn’t help, Tory would do something stupid on her own, and if he did, he would put her and her kid right in the middle of a fucking battle.
“Don’t make me do this, Tory.” He pleaded. “You got out.”
“I know, and you know that I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.”
Lucas turned away and took a deep breath. What could he do? She was saying the truth, and he could do something to protect her if he came along, even if Lucas hated the idea.
“Get up, loser, we’re going zombie hunting.” He relented.
“Is that a pop reference?” Tory asked with a confused expression. Lucas frowned.
“Don’t you dare talk to me if you didn’t watch Mean Girls.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Tory was pensive as Lucas drove, watching through the window of the car as they sped over the old road.
“What is on your mind, California? I can’t have you distracted out there.” He said, not taking his eyes off the road.
“I always have a lot in my mind, Lucas, not like you don’t know that.” She snarked.
He chuckled softly and threw a look her way.
“You’re a shit liar when you’re distracted.” Lucas pointed out, getting his eyes back on the road. “You’re thinking about how to stop them, aren’t you?”
Tory nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see a way, those two want to do away with each other, and I’m not against it, this brave new world is not for people like Negan and Rick to be in such close proximity of each other.”
“What would you do?” he asked, his voice serious and considering.
“The previous leader of Alexandria was a senator; did you know that?” Tory asked, looking at Lucas. “She was a good woman, a bit naïve if you ask me, but that was her prerogative, she had lived sheltered until Rick came and hell broke loose for us.”
“I’m sure you have a point…” the former paralegal said.
“Yes, she once said that politics and governance was about doing what was better for the people, even if it was horrible, but never to the extent that it would destroy you or crush you.” Tory sighed. “Negan and Rick don’t have that, they are driven through their survival instinct, through what they have done to get here, and that will destroy them.”
“Not one or the other?” Lucas wanted to know.
Tory laughed, it was a bit bitter, but still a laugh. “No, the both of them will lose, sooner or later, no matter who wins today; there’s always something out there.”
Silence fell between them for a while.
“Remind me to be the fun uncle to your Peanut baby, they will need it.”
Lucas ignored the quiet murmur of ‘asshole’ as he exited the main road.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
They had a good vantage point.
Negan could see as the group of armed people as soon as they came to the clearing; Rick was leading them, Daryl at his side.
He made a sign and the whistling started. They looked around them, unable to really identify where the noise was coming from. Negan almost laughed. He would have, if he didn’t think his men would feel overconfident. Rick had demonstrated over and over that he was an unpredictable rival.
“Well, damn Rick, look at that,” he mocked, “pegged again, pegged so very hard.”
Yet, they were confused, looking for him now, they only had to advance a little bit.
“I ambushed your ambush, with an even bigger ambush.”
“How about you step out and face us?!” Rick roared.
“Oh, I am everywhere, Rick,” he said, now smiling to his walkie, impressions be damned. “some more bullhorns, more walkies, pick a direction and run. See how you do, make it fun for all of us.” He turned to see the neat line of Saviors around him. “Guess what else I did? I brought some of your old buddies back, your friend Eugene? He’s the person who made today possible.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
The car came to a stop and Tory perked up, Lucas was looking ahead still, hands around the wheel.
“It’s over there, right over the hill, they are waiting for Rick.” He explained. “A neat line of people with their weapons; fully charged to massacre whoever Rick brings here.”
Tory nodded, looking the same way he did; she could hardly imagine how that would end, she didn’t want to.
It wouldn’t be nice.
“Look at me, Victoria.” Slowly, Tory turned to look at Lucas, whose expression was dead serious and concerned. She could count with one hand, and she’d have fingers left, how many times Lucas had called her by her given name.
“You have a baby inside you, you have to be careful, for them.” He said. “If I say run, you will fucking run, no fighting, no snarking, no shitshow, you will run. Swear it.”
“I swear.” Tory conceded.
Lucas nodded and then gave her a gun. “Use it wisely, it has only six shots, got you something though.” From behind his back, he handed her Henry’s old hunting knife.
Tory blinked back tears as she took the familiar, well-loved handle back.
Maggie, Michonne, Carol, Morgan...
“How…I…”
“You are handy with that, use it, whoever comes for you is a foe, even if they were a friend once.” Lucas said.
“Okay.” Lucas smiled at her answer.
“Come with me, then, California.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
“…Gabe, he’s gotta go too.” Negan cocked his Glock at the back of the priest’s head. “We’re cleaning house today, Rick, then…there’s you.” He sighed. “It never had to be a fight, you just had to accept how things are. So, here we go. Congratulations, Rick.”
Negan turned the walkie off and turned to Eugene; the man didn’t even hesitate.
“Three.”
The line started to advance on them, Negan would have given anything to be able to watch from the other side.
“Two.”
Everyone aimed.
“One.”
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Lucas stopped and Tory slammed into him at the same time the echo of the shots rang cleanly through the air.
Shots and screams of agony.
It took only a few seconds before Tory felt the burning pain in her right hand.
“Fuck.” She hissed. “Lucas…”
“I know, we gotta run.” He said.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Negan’s hand hurt like a motherfucker. He groaned in pain, trying to gather his wits as he stood. Eugene was watching him, as if he had no idea how it was going to work out for him.
“Eugene, you son of…” He had no chance to finish as the good for nothing fucking priest punched the hell out of him, but still, not enough to completely throw him.
Good ole’ Lucille was there for him, and Negan didn’t hesitate to hit Gabriel, or Dwight; he tried to punch him with his tied hands, the idiot.
But Negan knew, he had to run if he wanted to make it.
The sound of the shots followed him.
“He’s running!” he heard, but only barely, over the sound of his panting breaths, and the throbbing pain of his hand and cheek.
I can’t see you destroy each other.
Of course! Of course, he would grow a fucking conscience now, of all times.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Tory heard the groaning before she saw the walkers shuffling their way.
“Run, go get that idiot soulmate of yours!” Lucas ordered.
“But-“
“Tory, I fucking told you!”
Tory took off.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Negan ran, stumbling a little as he saw the tree in the distance.
He heard the shot and ducked, barely on time. The glass breaking was amplified by the escalating headache that came from the pressure, from the pain, from the running.
He barely had a moment of reprieve, Rick was far enough, and was enough of a good shot to fucking nail him if he got out from behind the tree.
It was too quiet for a few moments; Negan knew that Rick, harebrained idiot he was, was most likely running his way, so he prepared, steeled and turned around.
Sure enough, Rick was running at top speed towards him, hand already out, throwing the first blow.
He ducked and grunted as Lucille collided with Rick’s middle.
Rick threw Lucille off of his hands and finally nailed the first blow; a mean right hook to his chest. Negan punched back, but it hurt him, more than Rick; even if he cried out in pain. Rick, bastard that Negan knew him to be, didn’t miss a fucking beat as he tackled Negan to the ground. They rolled over the dried leaves, crushing them as they almost went downhill.
However, Negan did to get Rick off of him? He didn’t know; who cared? Negan got to his feet and kicked him. Ribs and liver.
The satisfaction of hearing Rick complain was so good, Negan almost felt free of pain for a moment.
He picked up Lucille, relishing on the familiar weight, thinking if he should bash Rick’s head in.
“Just so you know,” Negan panted out. “eeiney, miney moe? Bullshit, I made a choice.” Rick glared at him, burning hatred in his ice blue eyes. “I just didn’t wanna kill a kid’s dad in front of him.” Then he went in for the kill. “Turns out, that would have been the best thing I could’ve done. Had I done it, that kid would still be alive.”
Rick kicked him hard.
Right in the fucking shin.
They both groaned in pain.
“You’re beat…your people are down.” Rick growled.
“I’ll get out of it, I always do.” He got up first. “Is just you and me Rick; and you… you’re torn open.” He wheezed out a little chuckle. “I’m bigger, I’m badder, and I got a bat.”
Rick panted. “We can have a future.”
“I know I will.” Negan pointed out. Tory came to his mind, shaking her head at him, smirking as if she knew something he didn’t, screaming at him without fear…telling him she loved him. Yeah, he had a future.
“Just give me ten seconds, so I can tell you how-”
Negan almost laughed, was Rick trying to pitch him something like a bad sales rep?
“No.” he growled.
“Ten seconds…for Carl.”
Fuck, Rick knew how to throw low blows.
Negan had really licked Carl a fuck ton. He was a smart kid and a badass. He was too fucking young too.
“Ten. Nine.”
“Carl said- he said it don’t have to be a fight anymore-” Rick heaved.
“He was wrong.” Negan growled. “Eight.”
“No, he was right.” Rick contradicted. Negan had never felt so furious in his life, so furious he couldn’t even speak, and for the first time since he was a kid, Negan felt frustration come in the form of tears as he gripped Lucille.
Rick looked at him, his eyes low.
Fuck, he should have paid attention.
••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Tory ignored the pain in her side as she ran when she saw them, a few hundred yards away.
She would recognize Negan’s form anywhere, she knew it.
And Rick.
It was weird.
Probably because it wasn’t her life, but Negan’s at stake in front of her. She kept running a few more yards, Negan was raising Lucille and then he stopped, lowering the bat slowly.
She was so close. So very, very close.
Then…
Then... Tory noticed.
It was a minimal glint, a bit of a flash, and then Rick moved in a way that was so very familiar to her. His body turned a bit to the left, then he opened an arch to the right, slashing through the air.
The scream she wanted to let out was lodged in her throat as she stumbled; a feeling of despair blanketed her as Tory kept running, while her legs felt like lead.
Negan fell to his knees.
Then he fell on his side.
Rick looked up. He saw her, she knew, it was evident that he didn’t care.
Blind hatred pushed her forwards, her eyes zeroing on Negan’s prone form as he laid on the dried leaves. She ignored the crowd behind the leader of Alexandria.
Whoever comes for you is a foe, even if they were a friend once; Lucas told her.
Tory came to her knees right beside Negan, his eyes were closed. Her mind was blank.
In the sight of his blood, of understanding that Negan would actually die, her mind went completely blank.
No training, no knowledge, no ideas.
Nothing.
Only him.
“You, damn idiot.” She whispered. "You absolute asshole, I told you so..." she sobbed.
He opened his eyes, just a bit.
She saw the man approach her and her hand went to her gun.
“I’m a doctor.” He said, no fear in his voice, only kindness as he knelt and checked on Negan’s wound. “Can you apply pressure?”
Tory nodded.
“You can’t fucking die, you understand?” she whispered, barely containing another sob as her hands became bloody. “You can’t die in here, we’re having a baby.”
#negan#negan fic#negan angst#negan x ofc#negan x tory#the walking dead fic#twd fic#the marks of running ink#negan soulmate#my writing#chapter 85#you did your waitin 4 years of it
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March 2, 2021: The General (Review)
Just like The Gold Rush, this was a charming movie!
Keaton, unsurprisingly, turned out a fantastic film, especially for the time period. Seriously, it’s insane how well this film holds up today! Shame that it almost ended Keaton’s career altogether. Because this film was NOT successful in 1926, mostly because dude made a film about the Civil War, with the Confederates as the heroes, only about 60 years after the conflict! Yeah, people weren’t hyper-jazzed about that.
UA was now super-against funding films where Keaton had complete and total control. But, he was still Buster Keaton, so they kept him on, but put some restrictions on him. Ironic, given that UA was founded to prevent EXACTLY that. Keaton was not about it, even though the two films that followed were at least somewhat successful. One of them, Steamboat Bill, Jr., produced ANOTHER of the most iconic shots of film history.
Yeah...wow. But this was the last film that Keaton made with UA, and he moved to another studio after this: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, or MGM. And THAT was a HUGE mistake, because his creativity was heavily restricted by the mega-studio, and they would deny many of his requests. If it weren’t for them, Keaton would’ve broken into talkies FAR earlier than he did, and may have revitalized the entire industry. They also made him use a stunt double, forced dialogue on his scripts when he’d purposely omitted it, etc. He wasn’t happy.
And not just in his career, either. See, it’s around this time that his marriage to Natalie Talmadge completely falls apart. They give it another shot in the early ‘30s, but officially separate and divorce in 1932, with Natalie getting basically all of this money, and taking his kids away from him. This, combined with his struggles with MGM, drove Keaton to alcoholism, and he was institutionalized. There, he met his second wife, nurse Mae Scriven. That lasted 2 years, after an unhappy Keaton cheated on her in 1935. And again, the divorce left Keaton essentially bankrupt.
MGM was tired of him, too, and in 1933, they fired him. Not a great year for Keaton. He signed on with a few other studios, became a writer for the Marx Bros (more on them tomorrow), and was eventually hired by Columbia Pictures in 1939. And that was...OK, but Keaton wasn’t happy still. And then, on the horizon...look! It’s another marriage! This time, it was to Eleanor Norris, whom he married in 1940. Their marriage would last for 26 years.
And Keaton was still around. This happy marriage apparently stabilized him a little bit, and he’s able to re-release his old films with new music. He also gained new fame on a new medium: television. He appears on talk shows and game shows from the 1940s into the 1960s, while also appearing in films throughout the ‘50s and ‘60s! He eventually made a return, and even had a cameo in...It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World WAIT WHAT
HOLY SHIT IT IS HIM!!! How did I never know this? One of my favorite comedies of all time, with a metric fuckton of cameos in it, and how did I not know that Buster fuckin’ Keaton was one of them? Hot damn! His last major film appearance was in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum three years later, and at 70 years old, he still did his own stunts and pratfalls. A class act until the end. Literally.
Because, much to his own surprise, he died of terminal lung cancer on February 1, 1966. And I say to his own surprise because...well, nobody ever told him he was diagnosed with cancer. Yeah, he thought he had bronchitis, and was diagnosed a month before his death! He never found out that he had cancer! Isn’t that fucked? Today, he’s buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park, in Hollywood, CA, with a hell of a lot of other stars. Crazy, huh?
Oh, and do yourself a favor: even if you don’t watch his films, just browse this website (or even the GIF feature in post-writing) for GIFs of Buster Keaton. He’s a legend, and you can see why through these GIFs alone. But enough about his career as a whole: what about this film by itself? Well, read this for a Recap, and read on for my Review!
Review
Cast and Acting: 9/10
Well, first things first, Buster Keaton was a star for a reason. He’s unsurprisingly fantastic in this film, and his comedic stylings are far different from Chaplin’s. His deadpan expression is oddly iconic, and works well in the environs of the film. And that’s not saying anything about the action...but I’ll save that for later. How was everybody else? Marion Mack was pretty good, better than Georgia Hale was in The Gold Rush, anyway. Glen Cavender...existed? Yeah, outside of those two, nobody gets much attention. Granted, it’s Buster Keaton, so the film could get away with that.
Plot and Writing: 8/10
Obviously, here, we need to focus more on the plot than the writing, but it’s still good! I didn’t touch upon the real historical event this is loosely based on (and I do mean loosely), but it’s an interesting story. Throwing in the love story alongside wasn’t a bad idea, either. Do I think it’s perfect? I mean, no, for a few reasons. Mostly the fact that...this doesn’t really feel like a comedy. Like, I know that it is, and there are enough moments that feel comedic...but just barely. This works far better as an action film than it does a comedy, is what I’m saying. Is it fair to judge it by comedic metrics, then? Maybe not, but this film has always been billed as a comedy, and...I don’t think that fits. Sorry...all five writers of the screenplay. Damn, really? Yeah, alongside Buster Keaton, we’ve also got Al Boasberg, Clyde Bruckman, Charles Henry Smith, and Paul Gerard Smith on this. Huh. OK, then.
Direction and Cinematography: 10/10
I mean...come on. This is fantastic. Clyde Bruckman and Buster Keaton direct, while Bert Haines and Devereaux Jennings are the cinematographers, and all of them do a fantastic job. I don’t even have much to say here, because the directing and shot composition of this film are wonderful. Seriously, no compaints.
Production and Art Design: 10/10
THEY. COLLAPSED. A BRIDGE. WITH A TRAIN ON IT. FOR REALSIES.
Music and Editing: 9/10
Finally, I did enjoy the music for this one! Editing here (by Buster Keaton and Sherman Kell) is great, while the music (by...one of people, depending on the edition you’re watching), is great! I think my version was by William P. Perry, but I’m genuinely not sure. I version I watched had some great music, though! Not as memorable for me as The Gold Rush, but still fantastic on its own.
92% capacity on the Hype Train! All aboard!
A hallmark of film history, as previously detailed! But now that that’s done, it’s time to break the silence. See, in 1927, the “sound film” or “talkie” finally came onto the scene, thanks to new cameras and film-making technology. Sound could now be tied with film footage, leading us into a new era for film, and for the comedy genre of film. Now, you could HEAR the jokes, rather than see them. And, as if to make up for lost time, the next burgeoning film stars would be fast-talking, wisecracking jokesters, and the next heirs of the vaudeville era. And one group would take this role above all others. And we’ll look at them next.
April 3, 2021: Duck Soup (1933), dir. Leo McCarey
#the general#the general 1926#clyde bruckman#buster keaton#marion mack#glen cavender#jim farley#comedy april#user365#365days365movies#365 movie challenge#365 movies 365 days#365 Days 365 Movies#365 movies a year
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This is a little random but I remember reading your thoughts on marriage story which made me l a u g h. But I would really love to hear if you watched any other of the Oscar nominated films and what you thought of them. You don’t have to but I’d be really interested to know!
Haha, thanks, anon! I’ve actually been really slack this year - normally I would’ve watched all the Best Picture nominees and many of the others too, but I’ve been so uninspired by this year’s crop (and been a little frustrated by how much less time there was between the announcement and the ceremony) that I just haven’t gotten around to watching them. I’ve watched a few though, so:
Marriage StoryI actually thought this was fine while I was watching it, albeit way too long, but the more distance I’ve had from it, the less I’ve liked it. I think the performances were good, but the script was often weak, the visual imagery and symbolism remarkably immature for a seasoned director, particularly given the subject matter (I mean, closing the gate on each other together? Oof), the characters and the relationships outside of the central one underdeveloped (I mean, was the movie even going to slightly unpack the husband/mother-in-law relationship?), and the overall film incredibly self-indulgent. In particular, I thought the casting of the son - Henry - was really bad. Not only was the actor too old for his behaviour in the film, but he was where the stakes of the film lay, and half the time he felt incidental to the overall narrative or - worse - you didn’t care about him at all.
Once Upon a Time in HollywoodErgh, I know Tarantino is problematic as hell, but I usually enjoy his movies still - particularly Death Proof and Inglorious Basterds, but I had so many issues with this film. As an ode to a particular era in Hollywood, it’s fine, but it’s a mess when it comes to character arcs and narrative pacing, the subplots are hamfisted, the fantasy sequences were never clearly signposted enough to distinguish between fantasy and reality - something that isn’t always necessary in a film, but I think was in this case - and it had VERY strange messaging about gendered violence. I mean, Brad Pitt’s character was the hero, and he’d murdered his wife and then violently murders two girls at the end, and is rewarded for it? Sure - he murdered a guy too, and they were Manson girls, but the deaths of the girls lingered in a way Tex’s didn’t. Plus Sharon Tate and Margot Robbie were both wasted as essentially set dressing. Really, really odd film.
ParasiteCan I just insert the Lady Gaga gif?
Truly brilliant film on practically every level. The shifting dynamics between these two families, the parasitic behaviour of both of them, the incredible visual design, the performances, just! Ah! Loved it. Plus the narrative twist halfway through blindsided me in a way that I don’t think I’ve been blindsided in years at the movies, and there was a moment in the cinema where I leaned over to my friend, and said I have no idea how this is going to end and that’s a feeling I don’t think I’ve had in years either.
JudyChose a very, very strange time in Judy Garland’s life to focus on, but Renee Zellweger was great, and the film itself was pretty good. I don’t think it did too much new with the bio pic formula, but that’s okay.
Knives Out It’s a very controversial opinion, but I didn’t like this at all, haha, and it really confirmed for me that I don’t particularly like Rian Johnson as a filmmaker (he’s just not to my taste). I thought this movie really sucked out its own narrative tension and drive by the way it chose to structure itself, the phenomenal cast was wasted as the extended family was essentially stunt casting, and it felt like the issues the movie was trying to address were gleaned from twitter headlines and that the process of reading those headlines was about as much thought that was given to them. There was no deeper exploration of the topics of classism, enitlement, racism and immigration beyond a briefly satisfying comeuppance at the very end. Otherwise, it just felt really empty and pretty masturbatory to me.
I also saw Toy Story 4, Missing Link and Avengers: Endgame, but that’s basically it! :-)
Did you guys see any of the films?
#movies#gosh#this post seems so negative haha#i do like movies generally!#just this year was v disappointing
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okay so!! drizzle here with my second child. susan is a completely new muse, and honestly i don’t know what i’m doing ( tho lbh, when do i ever? ), but i’ve written down some hcs that should hopefully make at least some sense and be somewhat helpful?? let’s just get into it. trigger warnings: death, mourning, super brief mentions of anxiety/ panic
SIMAY BARLAS? No, that’s actually SUSAN BONES from the GOLDEN TRIO ERA. You know, the child of HENRY BONES and SOPHIE BONES? About to begin SIXTH YEAR, this HUFFLEPUFF student is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as CIS-FEMALE and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be SENSITIVE, PERFECTIONISTIC, and CYNICAL but also COMPASSIONATE, INDEPENDENT, and HARD-WORKING.
so susan obviously comes from the prominent bones family, that has close ties to the ministry and have been very against blood supremacy for a long time now. her parents, grandparents, uncle edgar and his family were all murdered in the first wizarding world, so susan was raised by her remaining aunt amelia. since she was only one year old at the time her parents died, she has no memories of them, and only what amelia has told her. the first wizarding war obviously had a huge impact on her family, and unlike some children that grew up in peaceful ignorance of the devastating effects of the war and blood supremacy, she’s never not seen the effect it had and the terror it caused. still, she’s grateful for the life she’s been given. her aunt was amazing and worked hard to make susan’s childhood a good one. and it was, for the most part --- she knows she could be so much worse off, and she’s grateful that she had amelia and for everything she’s given her. still, sometimes it was difficult not to let grief and bitterness and cynicism seep in, on birthdays and death anniversaries and those moments she’d catch her aunt grieving in private
when she came to hogwarts, she was quickly sorted into hufflepuff. she was briefly considered for slytherin ( not quite long enough to be considered a hatstall ) due to her ambition, resourcefulness and determination, but ultimately her hufflepuff traits won out and her admiration for their attitudes and beliefs. there hasn’t been a day where she’s thought she was sorted into the wrong house --- she’s a hufflepuff through and through, and although she only had her aunt growing up, she found another family in her hufflepuff classmates, one which she will always be grateful for
susan is very enduring and persevering tbh. in part i think it’s just how she was raised? i mean, amelia lost all her family except for susan, and suddenly she had this baby she had to raise --- she definitely had to adapt and persevere through it despite the losses and grief she felt. susan knows that life can be cruel, it can bring you down, it can try its hardest to break you, but she also knows that she has to find a way to adapt to it and keep going? susan doesn’t view breaking down or being overwhelmed by negative emotions as a weakness, and when life gets tough she won’t ignore them or pretend she doesn’t feel them. i mean, it’s not something she wants to display in public, but in private or around people she trusts she’s comfortable with falling apart if that makes any sense?? she would never want to go through life as an emotionless zombie just to stay ‘strong’, but she also won’t let her emotions bring her down or stop her from moving forward? we’re closing in on 2 a.m. over here so i am most likely not explaining this well at all lmao, but this gif from the bold type ( go watch it ) kind of sums up her general attitude and approach to the challenging parts of life:
fifth year was... not fun. still reeling from the loss of cedric, umbridge changing essentially everything they loved about the school, the fear of the approaching war, joining the d.a. in hopes of being able to protect herself and her loved ones --- all things that contributed to it being a Stressful Year. not only that, but her best friend hannah abbott lost her mum and susan had to watch her spiral out of control with little to no idea of how she could help her through it. furthermore, the death eaters that murdered her uncle edgar and his family escaped from prison, and throughout the school year she was pestered with questions from other students about her family and how they were murdered, understandably causing her a lot of emotional distress. she tried to focus her attention on the d.a. and the rest of her classes that umbridge hadn’t changed too much, but at the end of the school year she was just relieved to go home tbh and attempt put that behind her
sorry to say susan, but it only gets worse after that. in july before the start of this school year, amelia was personally murdered by voldemort in their home. susan was at a friend’s house at the time --- she wouldn’t be alive now if she’d been home --- but she was the one to discover her. i’m not gonna go into any details because none of us need that, but it was clear amelia had put up one hell of a fight, and it was obviously a traumatising experience for susan
since amelia had been her last living relative, susan was now an orphan with no other relatives to turn to. thankfully enough, hannah’s family were willing to take her in so that she wouldn’t have to go to a children's home/ into foster care. can’t even begin to explain how relieved susan was about that tbh, it might have been too much for her to handle otherwise. she may not have any blood relatives left, but she still has a family that will support her and catch her when she falls, and that familiarity and knowledge really does so much in helping her feel less alone and not letting her somewhat cynical nature bring her down, and just mourn her aunt in peace??
legit where would susan be without hannah abbott?? she’s happy she never has to know the answer to that
really into things like scrapbooking, pottery, knitting, photography and other creative mediums?? just finds them to be a good way for her to relax and not think Too Much for a while, plus she gets something beautiful out of it at the end ( she is here for the #aesthetic ). she might not be excellent at all of it ( her knitting is definitely Questionable ) but she finds it therapeutic
usually makes yearly scrapbooks for the hufflepuffs that they can keep in the common room to look back on fond memories, and that new/ future students can look through and see how close-knit they are. sort of a way to show them that although they may be away from their parents and the home that they know, they have a family here too that will support them through their years here and be there whenever they need a friend??
definitely did a little scrapbook in honour of cedric that anyone who wanted to help out with could, so that future generations got an idea of what an incredible person he was, and that he’s not just a name that’s remembered
is probably working on a scrapbook rn about her family, partly as a way to help her process and deal with the fact that they’re all gone now, and partly just to make sure that they’re not just another couple of names on a list of the deceased either. i mean, the bones family is well known in the wizarding world, especially in connection to the ministry, so she knows they won’t ever really be forgotten, but amelia was more than just the head of the department of magical law enforcement, and susan wants to show that. like i said, it’s just a scrapbook for herself and not something she would actually share, but she just kind of wants to show who they were as people and how much they mattered, even if it’s just to herself?? and obviously she didn’t know her parents or grandparents or the other family members that died during the first war, but she’s trying her best to do them justice based on the memories amelia told her about growing up
definitely that student with perfectly colour-coordinated notes, organised binders, meticulously planned study timetable, detailed essay plans etc. etc. and just really looks like she Knows what she’s doing even if she’s just screaming on the inside
if she had grown up in modern times, she would be like.... ridiculously devoted to the bullet journal system and just make it aesthetic af. tho i guess now that she’s in the future, she might get the chance to actually try it
not one to procrastinate; knows it won’t do her any good, and would rather dive right into a task so she can give it her all. which is a good thing, because if she did procrastinate, she would likely Die from stress ( she already sort of is ). she can be a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to her schoolwork ( putting it lightly tbh ). she’s been known to finish an essay ( which she edited several times to make it Good Enough ) in the evening and then the next day decide that it is not, in fact, good enough and quite literally burn it and start again
honestly i’m making myself stressed just thinking about it pls love yourself susan and don’t make life harder for yourself
for someone who seems so organised and put together, she actually has no idea what she’s really doing --- the future after hogwarts is just a terrifyingly blank canvas to her right now. she feels an extreme pressure to live up to her surname, especially now that she’s the last survivor, because her family did so much good. they were some of the brightest wizards and witches of their age, especially her aunt amelia, and it was part of the reason why they were targeted. susan just wants to make them, and herself, proud. she wants to make a real difference in the world, but whether that means heading into the same career field as amelia or doing something different, she’s not sure of yet
that’s also part of the reason why she puts so much effort into her studies --- when she finally figures out what she wants to do, she doesn’t want to realize she can’t do it because she didn’t work hard enough in school or anything. she just wants to give herself as good chance as possible to succeed
so. it’s pretty clear that susan Cares about her academic life, but it doesn’t come close to how much she cares about her friends. she will drop everything for you, no questions asked. even if you wake her at three a.m. the night before a big exam, she’ll stay up with you for the rest of the night if that’s what you need, talking or playing games or drinking a comforting cup of cocoa --- whatever you need. she’ll panic about the consequences later, for sure, but she’ll be there when you need her. she only had her aunt growing up, but she views her friends at hogwarts ( especially the other hufflepuffs ) as family, and she’ll do anything for them. they don’t have to consider her family in return, but she’ll definitely try her hardest to be there for them as much as possible
really good at braiding hair?? usually wears her hair in a long braid down her back, and is always willing to braid others’ hair, especially the younger students. the big sister of hufflepuff tbh
is honestly just. Terrified by the war, by the death eaters, by voldemort. i mean, the wars have claimed her whole family --- there’s never really been a time where she didn’t understand how serious the war was, how devastating the impact of it could be. how frightening of a time it was. one thing that hits her particularly hard is the fact that her family were great wizards --- they were so talented, and they still ended up dead. if they couldn’t make it out alive, what chance would susan really stand if the death eaters decided they wanted to rid the world of the last surviving bones member? she’s just so scared
that being said, she isn't someone who would let her fear paralyse or stop her from doing what's right? she's still going to fight for her friends, for the justice of her family, for the targeted muggleborns and blood traitors. she'll do anything she can to help dumbledore's army, even if she's scared as hell the whole time
in terms of the time travel thing, susan is Stressed and Conflicted. amelia's death is still so recent, susan doesn't even know what would happen if she met her here --- whether she would appreciate getting a few more moments with her aunt or if it'd just make the grieving and eventual goodbye harder ( because susan wholeheartedly believe there has to be a way for them to revert everything back to normal ). there's also the chance that she could run into her parents, or the other family members she never got to know --- and although she's always wanted to get the chance to know them, now that it might actually be a reality, she doesn't know how to feel. of course, there's also the worry of how this could affect the war, and the world as a whole --- what would happen if there was no way to fix this?? basically, susan is conflicted af atm and she is Not here for this situation.
at long last i will Shut Up and leave you with her pinterest board
#eras intro#( about. )#wow once again i rambled A Lot#is anyone even surprised at this point#death tw#mourning tw#anxiety mention#panic mention#edit: just noticed tumblr cut off the last few bullet points smh but it's been fixed now
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