#tw: domestic violence mention
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7/29/23 Fears prompt @allaboutnalu for Nalu Week 2023
Levy gently places her hand over her best friends, coaxing her to relax. “Try not to worry and have a little fun tonight Lucy, we’re celebrating your freedom.” The two women are at their favorite bar to drown their stress in alcohol, music, and maybe some eye-candy but who’s gonna snitch? It is a comfortable place that they’ve been coming to since their college years, and since they know some of the employees, they even get drinks for free sometimes.
“I can’t help it,” Lucy sighs. “Everything’s still so fresh,” she absentmindedly reaches up and touches her left cheek below her eye where it was punched a week ago. Thankfully, the bruising has gone down and it’s just tender still. This is the first time in probably a year that she’s been to this bar or really spent the night out just with her girlfriends because of her ex’s controlling behaviors. “Dan just won’t leave me alone. I’ve even seen him driving past my job or home like he’s keeping tabs.”
Lucy Heartfilia has just gotten out of an abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend Dan. It started out like so many domestic abuse situations where they are perfect gentlemen, sweet talking, and romantic, but slowly and surely the psychological manipulation began. Guilt-tripping her when she wanted to hang out with her friends or visit her own family. Making excuses for why he wanted to drive her to and from work. Throwing tantrums when he didn’t get his way, verbally berating, or making rude comments about her appearance only to switch gears and be extremely apologetic. Dan would tell her he’d commit suicide if she left him, and so the guilt also kept her from leaving for fear that he might actually go through with it. Of course, it’s all a trap, to lure her back in emotionally and make her feel like things will get better.
It was always that hope of change that she hung onto as the cycle repeated itself again and again. Abuse and repentance. But there’s only so much someone can take, and thankfully for Lucy she has the support of a best friend that will not let her fall. Yeah, it’s great to be free, but there is always the sense of fear and dread when she must walk outside alone, like when she’s leaving her apartment building or office, or even shopping at the store. What if Dan makes good on his threats? She’s never been such a nervous person before that it’s sad how one bad relationship can leave a person tainted for the rest of their lives.
“Did you go to the court house to apply for the restraining order?” Levy queries.
“I did.” Lucy responds. “The process server is supposed to serve him tomorrow.”
“Good,” Levy responds with an approving nod. “Then if that bastard comes near you, the cops can throw him in jail!” She looks around to see if the server’s nearby before standing up. “I’m gonna run to the restroom, if the server comes by can you order me another drink?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lucy smiles. “I’ll make sure to.”
With the music an even tempo of soft alternative and pop, nothing to dance or too lively, it lulls the listeners into a pleasant mood. Lucy really misses coming to this ambient atmosphere after a hard week of pursuing and writing articles instead of going home to an unhappy relationship. If only… Her eyes narrow in towards the front entrance, widening in a flash as she sees Dan step through the threshold.
“Shit!” She grits her teeth and scoots down in the booth. “I knew it!” Lucy just knew he’d likely come looking for her since he knew this is a favorite hang out spot.
Lucy scans the room, eyes flitting around for a way to avoid being caught by him. She can’t get to the front door because it’ll take stepping into the open for him to grab her, and she rather not get trapped in the restrooms... Maybe, she keys onto the bar counter… maybe if she can get to the bartender she’ll at least have an ally to help her. Using the columns and darker areas along the walls, Lucy weaves through other patrons towards the bar counter.
“Lucy!”
Her body stiffens at the familiar angry voice and cringes when she sees Dan yelling and waving frantically while he picks up his pace. No, no, no! As he pushes through the crowd, Lucy sprints the final few feet and grabs onto the first guy sitting alone at the counter. Pink-hair, taller and fit wearing a nice buttons down business shirt and slacks like he just got here from an office. Under other circumstance she’d be ogling the guy not crashing his evening. “Hey babe!” She weaves her arm around his solid bicep. “Sorry I’m late!” Lucy leans close and whispers through a gritted smile, her eyes desperately focused and appealing. “Please play along!”
Just as Dan reaches them, the male who’s eyes at first startles from the intrusion, quickly catches the hint and pulls Lucy in, planting a kiss on her cheek, and all the while side-eyeing the other male. “It’s fine baby, I just got here too.”
“What the fuck!” Dan forcefully grabs the strangers shoulder and pushes while reaching for Lucy’s arm, but the stranger sweeps Lucy aside out of Dan’s way, further enraging him.
Placing Lucy behind him, the stranger stands up from the bar stool and holds his hand up to Dan’s chest without actually touching him. “What the fuck is right!” The pink-haired male menacingly narrows his gaze. “I suggest you back off buddy, I don’t give a damn who you are, but the lady clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!”
“This ain’t your problem, asshole, she’s my girlfriend!” Dan spits back.
“No, I’m not!” Lucy screams as tears trickle down her cheeks. “You abusive bastard, I’ve got a restraining order on you so leave me alone! We’re done!”
Dan ignores both their statements and makes another lunge to reach for Lucy, but the stranger open palm pushes at Dan’s chest, forcing him to stagger back a foot or two. “Leave!” The stranger snaps, growling his words. “She’s my girl now, and if you keep harassing her I’ll make you sorry!”
At the strangers confirmatory words, Dan roars and lunges at the man who sidesteps and retaliates with an uppercut to his stomach, knocking the wind out of Dan who crumples to the floor coughing. Just as Dan tries to get to his knees, the bouncers are now there and grab him by his shoulders, one on each side they start pulling him away as he continues to shout profanities.
It’s over.
Lucy slumps against the bar top, leaning on it to stop from falling as the adrenaline rushing through her body begins to wane. “Thank you,” the words trickle out in a soft tone laced with held back tears. “Thank you sir, thank you so much,” Lucy repeats over and over.
“Lu!” Levy also finally manages to break through the gathered crowd and rushes to her friends side, pulling the blonde into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here!”
“It’s over, Levy,” Lucy gently sobs a mixture of elated relief. “Thanks to this nice man here.” Now that she can breathe easier, she realizes this stranger is even cuter than she originally noticed. He has gorgeous green eyes that sparkle in the disco-type lights panning the room. The man’s smile also conveys a happy lightness that pulls you in deeper and wanting for more. She feels a bit of warmth brewing over her cheeks, but could anyone blame her after such a harrowing save by this hero?
Levy turns to the stranger while still holding her friend. “I’m Levy, and this is my bestie Lucy.” Her head tips to the side and eyes flit to the front door to accentuate the who. “That guy’s been stalking my friend, so thank you so much for helping her! He might’ve kidnapped her if he got to her.”
The stranger smiles. “It’s nice to meet you both, and don’t worry, I’m happy to help out a pretty lady in need. I’ve dealt with a lot of dumbasses over the years, so I’m used to it.”
“I bet,” Levy chuckles. “It’s a nice reminder that good guys still exist.”
Here they are chatting like old friends yet they don’t even know his name. Lucy pulls away from Levy to finish wiping away the remaining tears and clean herself up. “So, what’s you name sir?” She finally smiles genuinely. “Is there anything I can do for you, perhaps buy you a drink to thank you?”
The man pulls out a card holder and hands Lucy a business card. “Detective Natsu Dragneel at your service,” he smiles and winks. “A drink is fine, but what I’d really like is your number and to take you out to dinner if you’re up for it.”
A surprised gasp lets out as Levy looks to see Lucy’s face turning cherry red. Having known each other for years, she knew exactly what her best friend is thinking. “Yes!” Levy squeals while pushing Lucy closer to the man. “She’d love to!”
“Levy!”
#nalu#tw: domestic violence mention#fairy tail#nalu week 2023#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#nalu fic#lol I’m so proud of my edit cause I added the guy and it looks like it was originally there 😌
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Do you think the Cullens should have had different special abilities in Life and Death? Not to make them more special but depandant on the time they were changed they would also have quiet different backstories. I'm thinkin' of Jessamine in paticular but I would also like to hear your thoughts on the others.
That could have been an interesting twist on it. If, as she claims, some gifts are about personality traits being intensified (although she seems to kind of retcon this with the powers in Breaking Dawn. She says that like oh, Jasper was charismatic, Edward could understand people, but then she drops Kate and Benjamin on us, and in the guide we find out Alice was psychic even as a human so like ????), then those traits could be shaped by nurture (life experience) just as much as nature (born with it).
For example, SM has said that Carlisle's compassion-motivated self-control is so incredible it's almost a super power. But Carlisle's compassion was not encouraged by his father, it made him a 'disappointment.' In Carine, though, perhaps (for all the weird gendered reasons) that compassion would be praised and encouraged. If Carlisle almost had a super power, maybe Carine, whose natural compassion was nurtured and grew because her father saw that trait as GOOD in a daughter but weakness in a son, would have some kind of actual magic superpower rather than just, really good will power and self-control.
In the reverse, perhaps Jessamine wouldn't have a power at all, or it would take on a different flavor, because the life she would have led would have been markedly different than Jasper's given the gender roles at the time.
Now, obviously, SM can't be bothered to get into this, and to be fair it's not the Point of the project; if anything, she's trying to prove the opposite point: that things would be pretty much the same if the gender roles were reversed. Bella wasn't weak because she was a girl, she was weak because she was human, etc. But she totally undermined her point by changing a lot of the trauma that happened to the female characters in Twilight. Rosalie was raped and beaten to death by her fiance and his friends; Royce is beaten to death by his fiancee's boyfriend. That's . . . not the same. Some things I get; Carine had to start off as a nurse because there just weren't any female doctors in Europe/America for a long time. But these private life backstories didn't need to change so much. Earnest's wife could have been abusive, and then as soon as the baby was born he took it and left her, but then the baby died. That would be much closer to Esme's story than the one we got in Life and Death.
So tl;dr: I think it could have been neat to explore how different life experiences might have changed the personalities and thus powers of some characters, but SM a) didn't care about that and b) wouldn't have done it because her premise was that the characters were basically the same people just gender swapped--even though she DID change a bunch of their backstories because she couldn't imagine male characters being subjected to the kind of violence she put her female characters through.
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Book Review: "Black Wolf: The Binding of Loki" by Una Verdandi
I liked a lot of things about this book (4/5). I think it's a worthwhile read despite me disliking some decisions and aspects. I would only avoid if some of the topics are triggering or if some of the things I mention in the "Cons" list are deal-breakers for you. My main complaint is how LONG this book is. 900+ pages! I would not recommend to people who prefer softer depictions of Loki. He spirals into something akin to the Joker in this one, still a very compelling depiction regardless and I enjoyed it (I do like the Joker as a character).
Loki is not soft or silly in this book. He terrifies pretty much everyone (to the point where they don't taunt him much despite them disapproving of his lifestyle and choices, and I'd argue Thor gets taunted more over being unmanly over his beard being burnt off by Loki). What softness he had gets lost in the end. And he is impossible to humiliate because he just doesn't give a fuck about anything or how he's perceived. With the exception of Sleipnir ( it wasn't rape in this book, he spends a lot of time as an animal and wanted a child), the myths that made Loki seem like a silly fuck-up (such as the goat CBT) were omitted. He's an unnerving and unpredictable force in this re-telling.
Warnings: There's physical abuse, period-typical queerphobia, referenced miscarriages, child abuse, rape, domestic violence, lots of murder, referenced genocide, and questionable use of binding oaths. There's referenced/implied underage sexual activity, implied CSA. The morality is rather "period-typical."
Pros:
It has probably the best Sigyn characterization I've ever encountered in a book. She feels realistic and complicated. She's pragmatic and very strong and independent, and also has a history of being an abuse victim, and she takes no shit. This is coming from the blog that constantly trashes a lot of her characterizations.
I also liked Sif's characterization, and the way her relationship with Loki is interpreted here is very interesting and ends up driving a lot of the plot. Frigg's characterization is also compelling. She did everything to prevent the death of her son. This book wrote women rather well and that's very unusual.
I liked how Loki's shapeshifter powers work here. He basically has to make himself again back from scratch (he can heal himself in that way), and this book also plays with body horror (looking at his transformations is very disturbing and it's painful for him). Loki is shown to have a very high pain tolerance for this reason.
I think this book's messy dynamics and portrayals are compelling and interesting. Odin manipulates his sons and destroys their relationships in doing so while trying to avoid the Prophecy of Ragnarok.
Loki was not boring. He's compelling despite being VERY awful. The Aesir killed off his people ( a clan of Jotnar that are referred to as "Nomads") and "adopted" him, thinking they would avoid the Prophecy of Ragnarok in doing so. He's very much aware of his history and rightfully resents the Aesir for it. He spends a lot of time in animal form, and this is something Jotnar are known to do and how most of his children came to be. Loki reads like a domesticated force of nature more than anything.
I liked the Cain and Abel dynamic established between Balder and Loki. And Balder being a dumb-ass indestructible child taunting Thor into hitting him by telling him that Loki was right about Thor "having fat tits" was hilarious and got me to read the damn long-ass book.
I liked the idea of the Gods navigating modern day post-apocalyptic Midgard trying to catch Loki, and criticizing the lack of housing casually (because Rules of Hospitality).
The Jotnar are portrayed in a sympathetic light rather than evil monsters that must be vanquished.
Cons:
I liked the Logyn in this book a lot and was disappointed to see Loki evolve into a VERY abusive asshole to his wife and children. The one time I thought it plausible and found Logyn compelling this happened! Basically, Loki's marriage to Sigyn was arranged by Odin to avoid intrafamilial conflict. Sigyn gained Loki's respect with her wit and pragmatism. Loki gained Sigyn's with his parental love towards Sleipnir. They bonded over Sleipnir, and I thought that was beautiful. But in the end, it went to shit...
I know this will turn a lot of people away from this book, which is why I mention it here. I admit I would not mind as much it if I wasn't annoyed by the overall Jokerification of Loki commonly seen in media depictions. I was expecting Loki to be a very shitty husband like Thor was depicted here, but not to the extent of marital rape and physically abusive to Sigyn, Vali, and Narfi. After his downfall being caused by the loss of some of his children and establishing Loki as very parental and protective of his children earlier in the narrative, the way he treated his less unusual children due to a "spiral into madness" makes for a loss of payoff. And the one thing that really annoyed me is that they implied he raped underage Roskva because "he went mad". This is not in the myths. And IDK, the Jokerification thing bugs me. The Roskva thing felt like it was just for shock value rather than to establish more plot points (which is why I am a bit more forgiving of the "Loki is an abusive husband/father" thing in here since it has relevance to Vali's characterization).
Keep in mind the book is mostly from the POV of characters on the Aesir's side. They do reference Odin's myth-accurate rape of Rindr, but it's focused less than with Loki's retelling-only ones. There's not as much focus on the Aesir's actions of similar weight to Loki's cruel misdeeds. It's just mentioned Thor kills Jotnar women very casually, and a Jotnar in cahoots with Loki refers to putting an end to the constant "raping of Jotnar women" by the Aesir.
#LokiBookClub#Black Wolf: The Binding of Loki#Una Verdandi#tw: rape mention#tw: domestic violence mention#tw: abuse mention#tw: child abuse mention#tw: micarriage mention#tw: csa mention#book review#norse mythology#myth!loki#myth!sigyn#logyn#myth!odin#myth!thor#myth!sif#myth!frigg#myth!balder#myth!vali#myth!narvi#i can't believe i actually finished reading this!#proud of myself lol#LokiInMedia
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TYPE: Self-Para.
WHEN: Present Day vs Thirty-Two years ago.
WHERE: Jail Cell / His childhood home.
MENTIONS / TRIGGERS: Domestic violence, child neglect and drug addictions.
It was late, and the usual sound of chaos and destruction had faded and ebbed into a dull murmur. The cold wasn't kept out, seeping through the metal of his frame as he stared at the ceiling in his dimly lit cell. Isaac lay on his narrow bed, staring blankly at the cold, gray room that seemed to close in on him. A little more each night. And every day there was something new to drag him further and further down to the bottom. He was startled at a bang, even if the tension still lay in his muscles from the yard exercises he'd done. The distant echoes of clanging bars and muffled voices from fellow inmates formed a dissonant symphony, a stark contrast to the daylight hours. He closed his eyes.
His only reprieve, his only solace, was meant to be his sleeping hours, but even they had been overtaken by horrendous nightmares. His club brother's face's her face. Each night was a new kind of horror, and he believed every moment of his was his punishment. His judgement day. His prayers would go unanswered.
The harsh fluorescent lights flickered from the corridor, lighting up the room as a flash of a memory struck through him like lighting. Isaac found himself transported back in time to a small, run-down house that he once called home. Their home. The very same one he'd burnt the ground when he was fifteen years old with his father passed out in his bed.
At seven years old, innocence clung to him like a security blanket, and he wished it had been shielding him from the harsh truths that lurked beyond the walls of his parents' addictions. He knew it was hard not to, even when he was so young. Often the afterthought of his parents' needs and wants. The muffled sounds of his parents' arguing reverberated through the worn wooden floorboards that creaked with every step anyone took in the house. He'd grown somewhat thankful for that — the ability to know when to hide when his father had drank too much. Although his father wasn't a fan of hide and seek, and it often made him angrier. Unfortunately, this was the backdrop to his childhood. Isaac, always the silent observer of their turbulent relationship, and when the voices that night grew louder and louder, the smash of his objects forcing his legs to obey and brave those creaky floorboards, he found refuge in the one place he believed to be safe – the cramped confines of his bedroom closet.
He forced himself into the back corner, huddling in the darkness, surrounded by forgotten toys and old clothes, a stench that told him this hadn't been cleaned in a long time as his nose wrinkled. But he didn't care, in here he was safe. In here, no one could hurt him, or use him for whatever games they played with each other. No child should have no such fear, and no child at his age should've had to live in such dire fear. Isaac clutched his knees to his chest, desperately trying to block out the cacophony of anger that spilled from the adjacent room. Louder and louder they grew, stronger words being hauled to hurt the other into oblivion. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that the world beyond the closet doors would disappear, that he could somehow erase the chaos that plagued his every thought.
And then he heard those rushed approaching steps and his breath held, pushing himself further and further into the corner, willing himself to be as small as possible. All he wanted was to be safe, closed off from the world. Away from the madness. But when the familiar sound of his mother's voice cooed through the room in a whisper, he relaxed slightly but kept quiet. As quiet as a mouse, his mom used to whisper when his father was in a rage and would tuck him inside. Safe. This was a safe place.
The closet door creaked open, and it sounded louder than it ever had in the creepily quiet house, revealing a sliver of light that illuminated Isaac's tear-stained face. His mother, worn and weary, with a new blush purple bruise under her eye knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms so tightly he feared she might crush him. He knew then that she cried too. That this was their life and the one they'd have to come to live with, even if it haunted him. The fragrance of her tangled hair mingled with the scent of her was clogged by the cigarette smoke they'd no doubt chain smoked, but in that moment, it was a scent of comfort. Hers. And one, as he got older, that he'd wished he learned better.
"Hush baby, we don't want him to come in here," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm. Isaac hadn't even realised he'd began crying as he tugged it all him, choking on those broken breaths as he pulled back to look at her face, his own crumpling. "Everything will be alright. We'll sleep in here tonight, let me get us some comforts."
Isaac buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck before she could get up, and the way her body shook was enough to break the resolve of a seven-year-old before she was tugging away to grab his blankets and pillows. The world outside the closet ceased to exist as the gentle hum of the lullaby enveloped him, cocooning him in a momentary haven of tranquility. Until sleep began to take him and carry him away from this.
And then he jolted away.
Now, in the cold confines of his cell, Isaac clung to that memory like a lifeline, a flicker of warmth in the otherwise desolate horror of his existence. The bars that surrounded him couldn't cage the echoes of that lullaby, nor could they erase the indelible mark it left. Something he'd long ago forgot —a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, he hadn't always been alone.
#self para#isaac gonzalez#char dev#musing#tw: domestic violence mention#tw: child neglect#tw: drug addiction
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Real has been my main focus currently.
hello everyone who's still my mutual or becoming new followers despite my lack of posting atm, if your still here with me I'm glad to hear it I'm grateful that You's are here it just seems for me currently I've ended up on an unplanned hiatus, because of real life, unfortunately, 2weeks ago I had helped my sister and nephew be removed from a domestic violence situation because of the baby daddy of her child, he was mentally abusing my sister to the point she would ring me terrified and in tears and on top of that the baby daddy physically and mentally abuse my nephew, he was a restless baby and if you gave him especially to a male he not used to he would scream the house down nearly because of what his father would do to him either when he changed him and when Charlie would be in his crib, the father is why my sister is under child protection order with Charlie, because it was nothing she done and it was never her fault it was cause of claims of domestic violence on the dad but he made her believe her it was all her fault because us Garcia's were in child protection til we was 18, so now she been needing me more than ever and still currently as she gets through this rough patch, Ever since we helped her have the baby daddy removed Charlie has become a happy baby on top I've that I've had appointments working on myself with strengthen my lower body etc I've been needed by others including my client I use to be working on help with her gardens etc but I no longer do paid work for her but still help her out with some things without pay, the new year has been crazy so far, from helping family and friends, focusing on myself and we'll the potential of a relationship for once but not actively as I only see him when he comes done to Tasmania, we have had chats etc of what we expect etc and where we at with that in mind and well possibility I'll be having a little holiday at mid-February at this current time things may not calm down for me a bit too at least March so I'll be on hiatus until at least March any changes I'll try and update you all I will still pop on to check content and happy to still answer questions during hiatus if needed but there won't be any content at this stage so sorry 😐 but know I'm okay though 😘 messages are also still welcome too ☺️
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he probs didnt know he was being violent towards you tho
Perhaps
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Verena: Tentative ASoIaF/GoT/HotD Verse
Note: While I am willing to adapt certain things for a verse, Verena’s appearance isn’t one of them. I’m going to say that the reason they don’t look like other dragons has to do with the spell that made them or some yet unknown breed of dragon. Also it has been a long time since I dabbled in this universe/read the books, so if any of this information is just like, wildly wrong or something bear with me. I tried to do the best research I could, and things may still change. If anyone wants to give me advice that’s totally fine.
Verena was born in Westeros in the year 105 AC. She the third child and first daughter of a minor lord of the house Hornwood and lived a fairly pleasant life growing up. Her father was a sickly man. His persistent illness allowed Verena a certain, uncommon closeness with her father, as she spent most of her younger years tending to him.
When Verena was twelve, she killed one of her cousins in a fit of cold rage after witnessing his attempted assault on one of her sisters. She followed him out into the forest several days after the attack, and as he dismounted his own horse, charged forward and slung a rope around his neck that she’d tied to her saddle. She dragged his body down to the river and cut the rope. When pressed, she foolishly admitted her crime to her father, thinking he would applaud her actions. Neither of her parents ever looked at her in the same way ever again. They did their best to cover up what had happened, and two years later, arranged to have her married and sent south---far away from the rest of the family.
She married a man by the name of Drexel who belonged to House Bracken. He was an older, foul tempered man whose two former wives had both died under questionable circumstances after failing to produce viable heirs. For four years the pair struggled to bring a pregnancy to term, in part due to her husbands age, and in part due to his tendency to lose his temper even when she was in a delicate state. As each year passed she drew quieter and more withdrawn. So much so that by the time she managed to bring her first child to term, many people wondered if she could speak at all.
Verena had never had many feelings about children one way or another, but when she gave birth to her first son, her whole worldview changed. She went on to have three more healthy children in the next seven years. Eventually Verena would take her Lord Husband’s life after he struck one of her children.
During the Dance of Dragons, Verena’s home was set upon by strange men. They might have been sorcerers or witches, or they might have been something else entirely. They ransacked the fort, slaughtering men and women alike, and stealing away with children. When they came for Verena’s own sons, she sent them away with a servant, armed herself with her dead husband’s sword, and attempted to fight off as many of the men as she could. She only managed to kill three of them before she was struck down.
When she awoke once more she was bare of clothing and being carelessly dragged down a stone hall in what appeared to be a cave. The men chained her to a metal table and began to carve out her flesh. Several times she lost consciousness from the pain, even more often than that she silently begged the gods for death, but each time she was brought back by being doused in cold water. After they finished their carving, the things poured blood and milk into the wounds, and then began to heap glowing coals onto the table---onto her.
The next time Verena regained consciousness, they were completely changed. They no longer had skin, but scale.
For the next few years Verena lived in a cramped hole in the earth, growing at a painful and impossible rate. The man-things that held them there were cruel, and paired with an innately short temper and a predator’s instincts, Verena became a vicious young dragon.
It had likely been the men’s plan to use their magic create dragons so that they too might join the Dance and attempt to claim the Iron Throne, but few of their test subjects survived the brutal transformation, and even fewer grew into proper young dragons. Worse still, none of them were ever tame enough to ride. And so they began to fight them for blood sport in cavernous arenas deep below the earth.
This is where the verse diverges for A Song of Ice and Fire and House of the Dragon. In HotD verses, eventually the number of sorcerers and dragons are so few (due to the high fatalities associated with handling dragons and the bloodsport), that the few dragons that remained were able to escape captivity. Verena is one of them and they now roam the countryside as a feral dragon.
In A Song of Ice and Fire verses, the dragons either escape and instinctively fly to Valeria to hide or the few remaining sorcerers sealed the dragons away with a blood curse that essentially turns them to stone, and there they remain, frozen, waiting to be freed once more.
Whether or not Verena can take a human form anymore is on a verse-by-verse basis. I’m not opposed to it, but I also think it might be interesting to play around with the idea of them not being able to shift back. It’ll be up to your preference.
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I'm certain this has been pointed out before, but...
“Lust shouldn't be about force.”
“Oh! No! Never. NEVER that.”
When Stolas said he would never do that to Blitz, he really meant it. After all, he knows intimately well what it's like to be forced.
#helluva boss#Sa mention#Sa tw#stella helluva boss#stolas helluva boss#stolas goetia#sa cw#Abuse tw#dv tw#Domestic violence tw#Cw sa#cw sa mention#If anyone needs more tags added to this let me know :)
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♡ SPOTIFY WRAPPED MEME ♡
@ice-sculptures asked 95 + the buckley siblings
→ seven by taylor swift
@lgbtqcreators creator challenge — color
#911edit#911#*#userisha#alielook#userkourt#*color#*userlgbtq#tuserella#usergif#*creative#tuserdaria#tuserambs#maddiebuckleyedit#chimneyhanedit#thebuckleysiblingsedit#domestic violence tw#domestic violence mention#*spotify
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I had an ask for this story but it was sadly eaten by the Tumblr gods 😔
So for the anon who asked for John Price x Reader who comes to him years later after a bad breakup because they are in danger, this one's for you!
John Price x Reader ~ All I Have is You
Summary: You come running back to John years after a nasty break-up in hopes of finding some help out of a horrible situation.
Word count:: 6.5k
Tw in tags
John's life could never be simple. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many loose ends he pulled together by the skin of his teeth. There always managed to be something he let lay dormant, something he let fall to the wayside just long enough for it to maybe even slip his mind. And damn near every time it did, it came back with a vengeance.
However, of all the things he knew would come back to haunt him, you were what he expected least of all.
He had believed you a long dead part of his life, a piece of himself better numbed in alcohol than thought about. A face he'd spent endless nights trying to forget the smile of, endless partners failing to take your stead. He'd long since conceded to that aspect of himself being buried, hardly remedied by the ‘I love you’ that would fall from whoever had been his most recent escape from the icy cold of his bed.
But then, on a day like any other in this silent little place he'd given up trying to make feel like any sort of home, he'd opened the door to your unmistakable features.
He didn't know what to feel in the years of silence that seemed to pass. His mind and muscles tore themselves apart trying to find what reaction seemed appropriate. A part of himself didn't believe it, a similar part almost reached out to hold you, and another felt infuriated. He wasn't sure if it was because even so close you felt like light years away or if it was because he wanted to slam the door in your face for daring to ever come back. And for a moment, however small, he seriously considered the latter of the two.
But then you spoke. And suddenly whatever amount of spine had led him to the thought melted like butter.
“I need to talk. I know I have no right to ask but…” you paused, your voice softer than he thinks he's ever heard you speak. There might have even been a quiver in it, but he could hardly believe such a sound could come from the person who had once held together his broken pieces like you'd been solving him your entire life.
“I need your help” your chin raises and you meet his gaze, his skin flashing with the familiarity in how your eyes narrowed and your face snarled. It's hard to take your attempt at strength seriously with how feigned of an attempt it was. He says nothing and just the same he watches as you crumble. Your eyes avert, your hands twitch, your body leans away from him.
He hardly recognizes you.
But he steps aside all the same, a nod inviting you in as he keeps his vow of silence. You almost hesitate, but step in soon enough. Like a long lost ritual you kick your shoes off at the door, hanging your jacket and bristling as the light cold leaves your skin. He notes how you don't let him out of your sight but he can't tell why your eyes burn as much as they do.
Eventually he leads you to the kitchen. He wonders if you notice the empty frames. He wonders if you even care to look.
Like some twisted version of an old dream, you take your spot at the table where you used to sit. And before he even realizes what he's doing he's perking coffee, his eyes turning to you.
“Coffee?” He asks, but he isn't even sure why he does. Looking at you would be enough of an answer. You looked like you hadn't slept in months. You nod anyway.
He pretends to forget how you make your coffee. Out of spite? Anger? Frustration? It doesn't matter. He simply couldn't find the energy to put into someone whose presence made his heart find an old pace that left him biting his tongue at the bittersweet taste. Either way you get your coffee and he somehow finds the energy to sit across from you.
“You wanted to speak. Speak” his words come out harsher than he means them yet he doesn't find regret settling in his chest. Only minor annoyance as he watches you almost recoil from him, your drink pulled to your chest. Your eyes seem to search around for a moment, as if the words you needed so badly to speak would simply appear in front of you. He remembers how he used to find it sweet and can only react by biting his tongue harder.
“You haven't changed much” you begin. He can't help the grimace he shows as the annoyance in his chest grows. He catches how you straighten up under it.
“And you have” he answers back. You say nothing for a long moment and he isn't sure if he offended you or not. But he watches as you take a deep breath, your face hardening in a way he doesn't like.
“I know this isn't exactly…great for you. But it isn't for me either-”
“Why’d you leave?” the words slip out of his mouth before they had even been a thought in his head. Yet where he expected a look of anger or annoyance of your own, you only pause. And soon after, your look manages to grow colder.
“Because you didn't love me anymore” you answer back succinctly, calmly. He feels rage bloom in his chest at the words.
“Bullshit” he mutters through gritted teeth. He doesn't catch the sudden grip you hold on your cup and the way you slightly shake. But other than that you don't break.
“I must have phrased that wrong” there's a tone in your voice, an inflection of something horrible on your tongue.
“You did a piss poor job of making me feel like I was anything other than your fucking bed warmer” your words fall like acid on him. They soak through his marrow and into his bloodstream and become him. And his body rejects it just as quickly.
“You knew the type’a job I had when you met me” his voice is low and restrained as he tries to hold himself back
“It had nothing to do with your work-”
“Well what the bloody hell did it have to do with then!?” He stands, his hands slamming on the table as you immediately flinch away.
“Sit-!” You yell almost instinctively, the only thing he catches is the sudden terror in your tone. You take a stilted breath before speaking again.
“Sit down…please” your voice is much calmer but it does a horrible job at hiding the hitch in your voice or how your subtle shaking suddenly isn't so subtle. The strange demeanor stuns him for a moment, long enough for his flash of frustration to cool back to a simmer. There's a horrible feeling that crawls up his spine at your reaction, this gnawing, biting disgust that rips through him in a way he can't quite explain. He listens despite its elusive source or how he hates the way your eyes are locked on his every movement.
A horrible quiet passes that only further smothers the flames that had grown in his chest. You both hardly took any sips of your coffee as you seemed focused on your breathing and he was focused on loosening the sudden tightness of his muscles. Soon enough he spoke again, though he wasn't about to attempt that conversation again, as unsatisfied as he was by your answer.
“Why are you here?” He asks and this time he finds that his voice is weaker than he'd have liked it; betraying the words that he had meant to sting.
Yet despite that, he watches as your breath pauses and your grip tightens. How had you managed to grow even more tense?
“I don't have anyone else left” you answered, your eyes finally missing him, flickering away for what was barely a single moment. In spite of how hard he fought against it the painful beating in his chest left him worried. He tried not to show it. He hoped he hid it well enough for you not to notice.
The silence seemed to get to you. That or his stare had. Either way you continued.
“I just need somewhere to stay. Just a few months. I’ll figure it out by then and be gone. Just long enough to get some cash together” you try to explain and finally he spots something familiar in you. But it is not a part of you he once knew that he sees. No, he spots something else.
“You’re running from something” he interjects at his realization, your movements freezing at his accusation. You don't seem shocked so much as worried. He hated that you would ever even try to hide the fact from him.
“Yeah um…I am- but it's- it's complicated okay? I just need somewhere to stay-”
“Is it someone?” He questioned, your words lips closing into quiet once more. It stings a strange part of his soul that you seemed so unwilling to tell him outright.
“...It doesn't matter” you finally speak and he hides how his fists tighten. He hates that he cares at all. He hates that he can't help it.
Your plea for shelter lingers in the air for moments longer than either of you cared for. You couldn't handle the quiet of that for long.
“I don't have much, but I'll give you what I can. I'll get a job and pay you back I-”
“No” he shut you down immediately. Your face fell, the desperation of your gaze fixed on him.
“You can stay and I don't need your money” he clarifies and despite the lack of smile, your relief is more than visible.
“Thank you. I promise I'll be gone as quickly as I can get everything in order” you try to instill any sort of confidence that you would be of little bother, that he would hardly notice you here at all.
He couldn't help but feel his stomach fall to his feet at the words.
-
The first month you stayed had been…surreal, to say the least. For the most part the two of you did pretty well with avoiding each other. For moments of the day he would even wonder if that had been some weird fever dream. You? At his door? After so long? It all just felt so strange. Stranger yet that the circumstances were all but ideal. He thought about asking further, about pushing for what it was that led you here and why you had even been running in the first place. But he found that his tongue nearly died in his mouth every time he saw you around. It almost didn't feel real.
And despite the cold that still ran up his spine, the emptiness that found refuge in his chest, the blood that sat heavy in his veins; despite it all…
You still felt like home.
Yet you were still so far out of reach. Words seemed like complicated equations, conversations like rocket science. His words never left the way he wanted them to, his tone always the wrong amount of harsh. And with the way your eyes tracked his presence when he was around, almost unwavering from him…it all just felt so hard to explain. Something had changed, of course it had. It had been years since you two had last seen each other and it had hardly ended on good terms. Still, there was something so wrong here. Something in the way you ever so slightly leaned from him, or the way your eyes flickered to the closest door, or how it all seemed so familiar in a way that wasn't like home. In a way that was more like the warzones he'd grown so accustomed to.
And he could just see it, that fight in your eyes. That twitchiness that you had never had around him before. And he couldn't help but wonder why. Why. Why. Why. Why. What were you fighting and why did it almost feel like it was him?
It was horrible, the way that question had finally been answered.
The front door had slammed open, startling him from the dinner he had been making and setting every one of his senses aflame. It slammed shut before he had even made it to the hall and when he had he could hardly bring himself to swallow the scene.
You stood pushing on the door like it would hold damn near the whole world at bay. With how violently you were shaking he almost wished it would. Your hiccups and sniffles filled the air as you tried and failed about a hundred times to turn the lock. Your clothes were disheveled, your jacket gone and your shirt caked in dirt and…
No, no that wasn't…
“Y/n?” He hardly even remembered opening his mouth before your name fell out. Quiet and worried in a way he hadn't meant to show.
When your head snapped to him all of his insides twisted in a sickly mess. Features he remembered days of leaving soft kisses on were now warped by deep bruises and bleeding wounds. Your eyes wide and glossy, your skin a mix of blood and tears. Your breath had hitched as if any movement would turn him against you. He couldn't help but feel worse at the notion. He moves. Just one simple step closer.
And suddenly it's as if a dam breaks. Your murmuring words he can't understand, a panic on your face he hadn't seen in all of the time he's known you. You yell and thrash and he can't tell if you even know what you're doing, he can't tell if you even see him anymore. His body almost acts on instinct as he quickly grabs the nearest cloth near him before making his way to you. He places the cloth in your hand, your body flinching in a way that makes him hesitate a moment before he guides you to cover your bleeding nose.
“You gotta breathe” he mutters, no longer attempting to cover the look of confused worry that covers him. You seem to try, but a bloody nose makes that a little difficult. In the meantime he guides you to the bathroom, sitting you down as he fishes out a medkit. You stop talking altogether at that point, going eerily silent.
And it stays that way as he wipes away the blood and around deeply forming bruises. It stays as he cleans the wounds and makes sure your nose isn't broken. It stays when the peroxide hits your skin and when the bandages cover them. It's a horrible, false silence. A silence so loud his ears ring, though that could have just as well been the adrenaline leaving his veins. For a while he's fine with it, for a while it's better than the terror-filled panic, for a while it's better than the way you stared and twitched and sobbed.
But then you get a look in your eye. A dangerous look. A look he's seen too many times in his line of work. And suddenly the quiet isn't so safe anymore.
“Still with me there?” He asks in an attempt to gain your attention. To his relief your eyes flick to him and nod. He doesn't quite like how quickly they had turned cold again. In fact he's sure he hates it.
“What happened?” He finally asks and watches how the distant look in your eyes dissolves. Your lips quiver as you try desperately to hold onto a calm that wasn't coming. Your hands grip tightly onto a bloodied paper towel in your hands.
“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat. Your eyes avoid him like a simple glance would kill you.
“It's complicated I-” the panic in your voice rises again.
“I have to go- John I have to go-”
“Now hold on” his hand lands on yours, your body tensing under his touch. He can't help but feel sickened at the thought of you scared of him.
“Whatever happened, I promise it's safe, alright? No one's getting in here. You're safe. Just…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes showing his hesitation before he, as gently as he's ever done anything in his life, he places your hand to his chest. Your fingers flatten against him, familiar and comforting, as he lets out a deep breath.
“Just breathe” he almost pleads, something he finds himself regretting almost immediately. Yet despite feeling that he was doing a horrible job, it seemed to calm you all the same. Much to his relief you managed a few deep breaths, your hand still pressed on his heartbeat that he forced to slow.
He is surprised, after all of this, to hear a faint laugh fall from your lips. Quiet and saddened yes, but a laugh nonetheless. And he couldn't have felt more ridiculous than at that moment.
“What?” Or perhaps it seems he could, his dumbfoundedness not hidden in the tone of his voice. It isn't hard for you to wipe the smile from your face, if it had even really been a smile at all.
“Nothing I just…I remember when I had to do this for you” your tone is bittersweet.
“I never thought I'd be on the other side” your voice is breathless and strained, a certain feeling behind it he couldn't quite place. He finds himself snickering along as the once painful memory hits him. He would agree. He never imagined someone strong enough to pull him back to reality could ever need him to do the same.
“Yeah…world's got a fucked up way of making circles” he replies and you give a half-hearted attempt at agreement. And it seems that a moment too soon you pull away and he feels almost as if you take his heartbeat with you.
“Yeah…Yeah, it does…” you murmur, a sentiment far too true found in the quiet whisper. There is almost silence until you speak again.
“I'm sorry” the apology falls in a way not meant to ever leave you. The sound was as sorrowful as seeing a bird stripped of its wings. An act against nature, a horrible twisting of what should be.
“I’m sorry” you break again, though this time you don't shatter so much as you crumble. And he knows then that those words aren't for him. That he hated how they sounded coming from you, how they weren't what he wanted, how he could only wish you'd take them back so that he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest trying to carve its way through his skin.
And how useless he felt then, sat in front of your broken state knowing that you had once done the same with him. How utterly and completely he knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe this looming, horrible terror that was held so deep in your eyes he could only see a warped reflection of himself in them.
And he simply couldn't handle it. He felt weak, hopeless, useless. But what was there to do? He had never seen you so truly pained, he had only ever known the other side of this situation.
So he did the only thing he could. He pulled you close, slow and cautious, before the both of you crashed into one another. Hands that had twitched at his mere presence now held him as tightly as the shirt on his back. As if, should you let go, you'd be cast adrift again into the crimson rapids. And he could only hold just as tightly, hoping that if he just held on tight enough that the falling parts of you would stay, that he might save even a single piece from the agony you were lost in a sea of.
You two stayed like that for a long while, hardly caring about that time that passed. At some point, so overtaken by the exhaustion of your endless bouts of tears and the near-death experience you'd just endured, you'd passed out in his arms.
And like some cruel twisting of a memory he held dear, he carried you to bed. He tried not to glance too much at your features, the cuts and bruises sending sickening waves through him, as he laid you down. He took a shaky breath as he covered you in a blanket, taking care to be quiet as he left the room.
In the absence of your presence there was only rage.
A fire unlike any he had felt struck him like lightning, a burning hatred at who could have ever done this to you. His feet moved but his mind was preoccupied with who and why and- god why didn't you just tell him what happened? What could have ever led to this?! What had you done? Who had you upset?
The thoughts plagued his mind as he set up his spot on the couch. Yet when the pillows had been laid and the blanket placed, he could not find it in himself to rest. He could only pace and snarl and burn with such a horrible feeling. How dare they. How dare they. How could anyone do this to you? To his-...
It was only those final words that managed to slow his thoughts, a sinking feeling resting in his chest.
Not his. You were not his. Not for a long while, not anymore…
But there was no hiding the fire in his skin. No denying how deeply he held you, how desperately he wished to never let go again. He could only curse whatever higher power could hear him. Curse them for ever doing this to either of you. Of ever letting him know your name.
It was a horrible pain to want so desperately to have you back, but there was no pain worse than you returning in broken pieces. Worse yet to know that, maybe, had he done things differently, you might not have left his arms to shatter against a world he could have protected you from. To know that he failed.
He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. He knew then that there would be no sleeping tonight.
-
Your eyes were heavy as they opened, protesting against your attempts to wake up. You thought, in your groggy state, that it might be better to never open them again, to give in to what they demanded from you. To close them a final time.
But it was only a passing thought in your utterly exhausted state. A whisper held at the back of your mind just waiting for the moment that it might scream itself into existence. But not today. Not now, at least.
And so you forced them open, a groan halfheartedly falling from your lips as you pushed away the comfort of infinite dark. You managed enough strength to sit up, regretting it almost immediately when a dull pain burned your side. You would have been confused, maybe even a little worried, if not for the returning throbs of the many cuts along your face and arms that swiftly and brutally remind you of yesterday.
So close. You had been so close to the end. You were lucky to have made it out alive. It was honestly a miracle you had.
Cornered, like an animal. You remembered the feeling well. Trapped right where you didn't want to be. It was like he could smell your terror as he bared his wolfish teeth in the warm street light. A wicked smile, one that scorched itself into an unhealthy scar upon you. Never to be forgotten, a thing of nightmares.
You had run as far as you could go, lungs empty and feet sore, your hands covered in the warmth of your own blood as you tried to hold even just a part of yourself together, to manage to escape through the skin of your teeth once more. You had done it before, but a second time was surely a test of fate.
You had been lucky, then, that a bus was passing by. It shouldn't have been there so late so far out of town. But by some higher being or just through the world's sick way of fucking with you it was. You had never been so relieved to be met with headlights in your life; you practically screamed in relief as you waved it down. Your hunter was as scared as a doe in them, slithering off into the shadows like the coward you knew him as. The driver, a woman in her forties, looked horrified at the state of you. But you had brushed off her panic and worry and told her to simply drive. You were thankful the bus was empty. You couldn't have handled anyone else's questions in your utter panic.
You had only been a five-minute drive from salvation, from the home you had long since abandoned, only to return to in your time of need. Five minutes.
He must have known. Someone might have told him or you might have mentioned John in one of your many pain-filled benders. It didn't matter. He knew where you were, and it seemed his patience had only grown thinner. You were sure now that he would not stop with breaking you under his iron grip, but utterly destroying you.
All at once these thoughts hit you, flooding your mind with panic and worry. You're breathing shallowed as your mind falls down this path, stopping only when the end of the memory comes to mind.
John…
You tried to move him from your mind, to rid yourself of the sinking feeling that came when you thought of how quickly he had jumped to help you, even after years of silence and weeks of ignoring each other. You try not to think of his attempts at gentle touch, calloused battle-worn hands not quite built for the kindness he was showing. You remove from your mind how he held your hand to him, how it seemed like no time had passed from when you left with how quickly he knew what would truly calm you. And most of all, you try to remove the feeling of his arms around you, desperate and worried and familiar and home. You try, as little as that means nowadays.
You deduce that sitting in silence isn't the best way to distract you from these things, and so you finally stand from the bed, noting only then that you don't remember falling asleep here. But you let that slip your mind as well. You prefer the static buzz of being busy over thinking too much about any of this. It only made things harder.
So your feet moved without you, intimately familiar with the halls and doors and light switches. After all, it had been your home, once upon a lifetime ago.
You hardly stagger as you make your way to the kitchen, accustomed to the constant lull of pain in the back of your mind. A whisper of its own, and one you realized it better to ignore.
You are close to allowing the static buzz to take over, close to numbing and leaving your brain on autopilot. Close to the preferable numbness. So very close. But upon taking a step into the kitchen, you are met with a sight so twistedly familiar you are shocked back into yourself.
John sat at the table, two plates laid out and coffee poured. A quaint scene, an old one. A memory from a different time, faded and aged and different in ways that leave you sick. Because he didn't stare with the complete adoration of a man in love, nor did his eyes avert, distracted and tired, as they had on the day you had left him here. But instead they tear through you. Locked on you the second you entered. It amazed you how his eyes of crystal blue, so similar to that of a frozen storm, could burn through you so easily.
You think for a moment that this is it. That he's going to kick you out with only a final meal and that you are going to be thrown to the starved wolf you knew lurked just outside. You prepared yourself to plead, to apologize, to ask for any bit of mercy he might show you. After all, you had lost your dignity a long time ago, and it wouldn't be the first time you had begged for your life.
But then, as if the elements of himself collided, the fire in his eyes cooled to a warm glow. Soft and familiar and warm, warm, warm.
You almost wished then that he'd return to his fiery glare.
“Sit, love” It isn't a command as much as a quiet plea, his voice is soft and calm and maybe even worried, a rare combination for him. It's a sound so foreign now that you almost don't trust it. His expression falls further as you hesitate.
“I just wanna talk” he tried to explain, to give you any reason to trust him. It works, though only barely. You take a hesitant seat across from him.
The smell of the food hits your nose and only then do you realize you hadn't eaten last night. The waft of coffee only seems to make things worse as it reminds you of how tired you are.
“We can eat first” you can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but either way you take the opportunity. You were too weak to deny how much you needed this right now. You would regret it later, you were sure, but for right now you would allow yourself this small indulgence.
And so it was quiet, absent the sound of forks hitting plates. Quiet in a way that you weren't sure if you liked or despised. You wondered if it even mattered.
It was a few bites in and halfway through your coffee that he spoke again.
“I saw a butterfly this morning” his words cut the silence in a way that baffles you out of the static once more. Out of your head and your thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest.
“Oh?” You respond almost too naturally, almost too much like you used to. If it weren't for the heaviness in your voice, you might have even forgotten that this wasn't like it used to be.
“Yeah. Should’ve seen it. It had all your favorite colors” his words are almost light in spite of the tense atmosphere and, despite it all, it manages the smallest smile from you.
“I’m sure it was beautiful” you reply and watch as the look on his face changes. You can't quite read it, a strange softness is all you can take from it. But there never fails to be that lingering sadness there. That worry. That pain you can't quite bring yourself to address. And so you look away, your eyes turned down to your food once more.
The silence that follows threatens to suffocate the two of you, drown you in this horrible replication of better times, and punish you for daring to seek even this small comfort. And so, knowing that there is only one way this will go, he finally asks.
“What happened last night?” You feel your throat tighten almost immediately, not daring to pick up your fork when the weight of that question falls atop you. You find it hard to give him an answer, let alone one that might satisfy him.
“I…It’s…” you struggle and hope that maybe you might just disappear, that maybe all of this was some horrible nightmare you'd wake from. But as seconds passed it became clear it wasn't. Clearer still that you had to give him an answer after what he'd seen.
“It's complicated” you try to explain but you knew the moment the words fell that they wouldn't be enough. You think that maybe he'll be angry at this, that he'll slam the table like he had before and demand a better explanation. But a glance shows that his expression only deepens in its worry.
“Then explain it to me” he pleads once more. It was a rare day he ever pleaded, begged, or even so much as asked for something. Rarer yet that it's genuine. Your mouth goes dry and silence remains. You can't bring yourself to look at him.
“Love-” his hand reached for yours and the contact shocks every nerve in your body. You flinch away from him, regretting it a moment later when his worry turns to pain on his face. He retracts his hand with the most hesitance you've ever seen from him; a man so usually sure of himself.
“I just need to know what's happening. I-...” he falters, another rare sight. He takes a shaky breath.
“I won't hurt you” those words come out stronger than the rest, as truthful as he could have possibly made them. And, despite its softness, it seems to tear apart the very walls you had built to keep you safe.
But safe from what, exactly? When the wolf lays outside, and this place is your final sanctuary, what does that make him? You weren't quite sure, but somehow you knew that whatever this was, it felt…well it felt familiar at least. A devil you knew well enough to find some comfort in the warmth of.
Your head turns away, arms held against you in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself. You think, for a moment, that you might run from here. That you might leave everything behind in the wake of the words that threaten to leave your tongue.
But he wants the truth. And who are you to deny him it? It couldn't make things much worse than they already are.
“Where do you even want me to start?” You ask him, voice hollow and cold and empty. There was no more of yourself to give than a story. You wondered if the sacrifice would even matter.
“Wherever you need to” he answers back, his shoulders squared: tense. You had half a mind to comfort him, but you doubt it would've helped. So, with a deep breath that does very little to calm your nerves, you finally answer him.
“When I left I didn't want to start over, but I didn't want to see you again either. So I moved a few towns over” you started, your voice detached from yourself, like it came from someone else entirely.
“A few months later I met someone. He had been so kind at first. Loving, attentive. He made me feel like I existed in the world again. Made me feel wanted” your words murmur and a snarl forms, even talking about it makes you sick.
“I was stupid, blinded, didn't pay attention. Didn't care, really…” you pause, your hands indenting into your skin as if to keep you where you sat, as if to stop you from fading from here.
“I married him” your words come out much more mournful than you mean to, your snarl nothing more than a quivered lip now. You had married that monster.
You didn't have to glance at John to know the look on his face. Anger, rage, a twisted form of jealousy. It was a knife to his back, you imagine, that you might have married another man before he had ever put a ring on your finger. But you weren't quite sure you cared anymore. After all, it wasn't you who had been so cold to him those final days you were together.
“I didn't realize who he was until then. He'd always been…rough. Arrogant, quick-tempered, prone to violence. But I guess I just thought that he wouldn't ever treat me like that. That I was different. That he loved me” your words shake and you do your best to pull those broken strings together. To steel yourself. To not be so pathetic.
“I was wrong…” you allow yourself the pain of those three words and in so scar your heart further as you admit it. He had never loved you.
“I tried to get away, I tried to start over again, but he wouldn't let me leave. I can't get a job without him finding me, can't get a place to stay, can't start over. I thought maybe if I came here, maybe if my name wasn't on anything, maybe if I was careful enough then I could figure it out…I was wrong about that too” you curse yourself when tears sting at you. You do your best to hide it, to disappear in front of his own eyes. But there was only so much you could do. Hiding from him had never been your strong suit.
John feels…well he doesn't quite know. A mixture of everything horrible, he thinks. He can't stand how your eyes avoid him as the words fall, how with each passing word he can only find regret. Regret that he hadn't held you closer, that he hadn't kept you safe. And he hates that the consequences don't fall to him, that he wasn't the one burned, that instead he watches you crumble and break and shatter. He had loved you, he had always loved you. That hole in his heart, that void you filled. Ripped from him and torn apart as swiftly as a flower in a stormy ocean. He hardly had the mind to blame you anymore, hardly had the heart to. He could do nothing but blame himself and the cruel creature he could hardly call human. The one who had dared to lay a finger on you. The one he could imagine tearing apart with his bare hands.
There are questions that circle his brain, words that travel from the top of his head and almost meet his tongue. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where can I find him?’ ‘How long had this been happening?’ ‘Why hadn't you said something sooner?’
He lets out a shallow breath, his eyes closing in thought for only a short moment before he stands. The sound of the chair startles you into watching him once more. His steps are slow, and deliberate, as they make their way towards you. You lean away for a moment, as you had since you'd gotten here, but it calms as you watch him. His movement is predictable; safe.
And soon, just as slow and just as softly, his hands fall on your face as they had hundreds of times before. Calloused but warm, a softness he only ever found with you. He is gentle along your bruises, careful with them. You can't look from him now, eyes searing through him. But he had nothing to hide, and so he stared back.
“We're gonna figure this out” he speaks to you, words like comforting slashes against your soul in how they tear your emotions from you. Your attempts to hide were all but vain now, tears falling freely and only barely held from a sob. Your breaths shake as your eyes close into the comfort, hands falling onto his as if he might just slip away. He presses a kiss, hesitant yet desperate against the crown of your head.
“He ain't ever hurting you again” his words are a promise as he mumbles them against your skin before placing his head against yours. You make no attempt to pull away, instead finding that a broken smile falls on your lips, one of utter relief. Somehow you find a will to speak.
“I missed you”
-
Potential part two? Maybe? Probably? Definitely?
#call of duty x reader#john price x reader#gender neutral reader#tw: violence#tw: mentions of depressive and suicidal thoughts#tw: heavily implied domestic abuse#tw: blood#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#john price#john price mw2#john price mw2 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw3#captain price#call of duty
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BAERRR THE MALE SIREN ONE WAS JUST SO— JRKEODKDDNDKSSKEKDJDJDK
SCREAMING. 🛐🛐🛐
He makes me wanna punch him in the face (romantically😳)
Are we getting a part 2 soon?? 🤭🤭
YAN! MALE SIREN PRINCE PT2
tws: manipulation mentions, abuse mentions, torture implications (not directed to the reader), domestic violence mentions, regicide,
i didn’t know y’all would like that so much 😭😭 but yes i can do a pt 2.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who, as mentioned before, is the eldest. He’s the heir of the Siren Folk and because of that, his parents are extremely strict.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who has scars on his back from lashings and has had scales ripped off of his tail as a punishment. His parents punish him when he doesn’t live up to their expectations, so he’s become very introverted and resentful because of this.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince whose name is Mattias.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who is natural kind and nurturing, but is also a master of manipulation. Be careful, his words might not be in your best interest at times!
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince whose father was not only abusive to him, but to his mother as well. Because of this, he plans on killing his father and taking the throne to protect his mother and his siblings.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who tried his best to protect his siblings and mother from his father’s wrath, but when his father laid hands on you, he snapped.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who kills his father in a blind rage, claiming the throne and immediately creates a law that protects all human lovers.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who, in case you were wondering, used a spell to permanently allow you to breathe underwater since you refused to become a Siren.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who is a better ruler than his father by far, but because of that, he doesn’t have much time for you anymore.
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who wishes he left his home with you instead of becoming the King. He’d be able to spend more time with you that way…
♡Yan! Male Siren Prince who fakes your deaths and leaves his home to find a new place to live!
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who’s furious when he finds out his siblings figured out his plan and invited themselves >:((
♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who begrudgingly admits that the more people there are to protect you and have eyes on you the better. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… but you have to love him the most!
#tw: yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere male#yan! male siren#yan! siren prince#yandere oc#yandere x darling#yandere oc x reader#soft yandere#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere hcs#oc hcs#oc headcanons#tw abuse#tw domestic violence#tw manipulation#tw murder#tw killing#killing mention tw#tw yandere#yandere drabble#male yandere
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Prev // Next
Transcript:
Atlas: You’re here. I wasn’t expecting you until—Whoa!
Atlas: [high-pitched voice] Jasper! What are you doin’ here buddy? What’re you doin?
Asher: Is this alright?
Atlas: Sure. You’re early and you brought the dog, is everything… shit, Ash.
Atlas: What happened to your face? Are you okay?
Asher: I’m fine. It’s not that bad.
Atlas: Come here, tell me what happened.
Asher: James showed up at the house to see Spence. The social worker wasn’t there yet, so I told him to wait outside. He lost his shit and shoved the door open on me. Hence, my face. So, to keep him from getting too far, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. He went down hard, smacked his face on the floor and broke his nose. Which would have been hilarious, except Spence woke up from her nap and saw the whole thing.
Atlas: Oh no.
Asher: Yeah, she was pretty upset. Now, Iris is pissed at me. She fucking went off on me and then took James to the hospital. She’s the one who told me his visits had to be supervised and not to let him take her.
Atlas: Was he trying to take her?
Asher: I don’t know. I wasn’t going to give him the chance.
Atlas: …
[phone buzzes]
Asher: Atlas.
Atlas: Hm?
Asher: I really need you on my side here.
[phone buzzes]
Atlas: It’s Dawn. She wants to come over.
Asher: Really? Now?
Atlas: It’s fine. I’ll tell her it’s not a good time.
Atlas: Do you want something to eat?
Asher: No.
Atlas: …
Asher: … Am I the asshole?
Atlas: No, you’re not.
Asher: Then, why won’t you look me in the eye?
Atlas: [sighs] Did you provoke him?
Asher: What?!
Atlas: C’mon Ash, you antagonize him any chance you get. I know he’s a prick and you don’t want him around, but I’m starting to think you want him to attack you. If he gets another assault charge while he’s on probation, then he’ll end up back in jail and lose any chance of seeing Spencer again.
Asher: Well, if he loses his shit over my little jabs, then maybe he shouldn’t be around a three-year-old.
Atlas: That’s not up to you to decide. It’s his kid, Ash.
Asher: I can’t believe this.
Atlas: Look, I know you mean well. But if he’s as unstable as you say he is, then I’m sure he’ll fuck up on his own sooner or later. You don’t need to put yourself in the middle.
Asher: I guess I’d rather he punches me in the face than break Iris’s arm again.
Atlas: [sighs]
Asher: You weren’t there, Atlas. It was awful. And if anything were to happen to Spence…
Asher: I hate this.
Atlas: I know.
Asher: I shouldn’t have tripped him. If I hadn’t, maybe him busting into the house and doing this [gesturing to his face] would’ve been enough.
Atlas: Maybe.
Asher: How was I supposed to know he’d go down face first? Dipshit didn’t even try to catch himself.
Atlas: [snickers] I do kinda wish I’d seen that.
Asher: [chuckles]
Atlas: For the record, I’m always on your side.
Asher: Thanks. Can we stay here tonight?
Atlas: Yeah, of course. I’ll put some food out for Jasp. You sure you don’t want anything?
Asher: No, I’m good.
[phone buzzing]
Asher: Sounds like you sister’s blowing up your phone again.
Atlas: She can wait. I’ll call her tomorrow.
#tw domestic violence mention#ts4#ts4 simblr#ts4 story#sims 4#sims 4 storytelling#sims 4 challenge#starsignchallenge#starsignlegacychallenge#gen1 aries#aries pt3#atlas stephens#asher goode
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A snippet of the new safe haven chapter for those of us in withdrawal?? ❤️
hi non ❤️ been fighting the writing demons today but it means a lot you’re wanting a snippet, so for you, here is a snippet of what’s going to be one of my favorite scenes of the chapter
#vee answers#fic: a safe haven#if you saw the typo#no you didn't#tw domestic violence mention#sorry forgot to tag it
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This took a while because I dug up old emails and rang some people from my childhood for this, including my father who I haven't seen for three years. Here's how the Duncan, Courtney and Gwen saga caused my parents to divorce.
I was like 10 when World Tour came out and I used to watch it with one of my neighbours when each episode aired. We were at that sort of obsessed age where it was all we talked about, so we'd not shut the fuck up about it, I think I still have some Gwen fanart I drew. Anyway, when the greek episode aired, we got way too excited and replayed the the part we recorded a couple of times. By the time we were finished she missed curfew for about 30 minutes and I went to bed.
I woke up, with both parents gone from the home and my grandmother bringing me to her house. For about a week I stayed with her in total confusion not knowing anything, until my mother came and brought me home, my father not there. She said they split up, I was bummed but honestly more bummed that she, for some reason, banned me from ever watching Total Drama again.
It took me about 5 years until I found out what happened that night.
My friend ran home, and tried to get food from her kitchen without alerting her mom. But she was 10, so it didn't work. Her mom was pissed she came home late and without eating, started lecturing her while she made excuses. At one point she said something along the lines of "But mom! Courtney found out Duncan kissed Gwen." And that made her mom stop. Her mom asked again, she replied "Courtney found out he kissed her best friend, and she lost it"
Something happened, between the eating the food and the rushed speech, that her mother only heard "Courtney found out *gibberish* kissed gw*gibberish*"
A little bit of context I should add. My mothers name is Courtney. Well, Kourtney.
Another little bit of context.
My father was having an affair with my neighbours mother, my moms best friend.
Somewhere between the chewing, the speech impediment or just her mothers fear, she thought my mother had found out about the affair.
She sent my friend to her room and banned her from ever speaking to me again.
She called my father who was at work to tell him, so he freaked out and tried to get flowers and gifts to, I guess soften the blow?
So when he walked in to the house, flowers in hand, mistress following behind apologising, my mother didn't have a clue what he was talking about.
I don't know the specifics of what happened next, but I asked my father and he said that my mother attacked him & the mistress, and forced him out of the house. He, in turn, "reprimanded" (read, beat the shit out of) the other woman and got sent to jail. Overnight my mother decided to send me to her mother while she sorted things out around the house and asked my friends mother what the hell went on, and then filed for divorce from my father.
I didn't know this until I contacted my friend again, but there were three other consequences of the Duncan, Courtney Gwen saga (remember this is what was about). 1. My friends mother lost her position in the church due to the affair being revealed. 2. My father called in cps and alleged neglect in the home, sending my friend into foster care for a period of time. And 3. It came out about four years ago that the youngest sibling of my friend was biologically my fathers.
I didn't watch Total Drama again until I was 19. I started at the episode I never got to see, The Ex Files.
When Boyfriend Kisser came out it physically pained me so much I switched off the episode and didn't go back to it for another year.
TLDR- Not only did the Duncan, Courtney and Gwen saga cause my parents to divorce, it caused multiple physical assaults, a woman losing her job and a group of siblings going into foster care.
All for Boyfriend Kisser, the worst song I have ever heard
.
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"If that were me I would have just left"
-Nizama Hecimovic was brutually beat and murdered by her husband live on Instagram where 12,000 people watched. She was murdered because she was planning on leaving him, and had protected her daughter from her own father. He killed her because she tried to leave him, and then shot himself when the police tried to arrest him.
-Ana Walshe was murdered and had her body dismembered by her own husband because she tried to divorce him.
-Audrey Hopkinson, 33 years old, was a young mother and Brockville General Hospital nurse, and was murdered by her domestic partner in Brockville, Ontario.
-Tracy MacKenzie, 35 years old, was killed by her partner
-Julie Racette, a 34-year-old female, was killed by her partner
-Brittany Ann Meszaros, 24 years old, was killed by her common-law partner
-Lois Paterson-Gartner, 55 years old, her 13-year-old daughter, and their family dog were murdered by the man they lived with.
and that isnt even TOUCHING the surface of abuse, or why people stay. But time and time again abuse victims watch other victims get murdered for trying to leave. Some stay for safety, some stay because they cant physically/emotionally leave, some choose to stay for whatever reason is. but for the love of christ stop telling people WHAT you would do if you arent in their shoes. Its NOT easy.
And for those of you who are staying with your abusive partner, you are NOT weak for staying. You are surviving and I hope to god you can get out safely.
#Tw abuse#Tw abuse mention#Tw domestic violence#tw violence#tw murder#actuallytraumatized#abuse#actually traumatized#actuallyabused
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Jerk next door (3) - The jerk and his rules
Summary: You move in next door to a jerk after a bad breakup.
Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, mentions of past domestic violence (implied), mentions of divorce, Andy being a jerk, mentions of past physical abuse, abuse of power (not Andy), a tiny hint of soft Andy
A/N: Please head the warnings for this story. I mention domestic violence.
Jerk next door masterlist
<< Part 2
“Morning neighbor,” Andy stands in front of your fence, watching you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “I see you finally mowed your lawn. Looks good.”
You want to roll your eyes at his comment but bite your tongue instead. It’s not worth it. If you get into another fight with Andy, he gets another chance to bring the others on his side.
“I did,” you say as politely as possible to not anger the jerk even more. “I borrowed the mower from Doris. I didn’t have the time to buy one.”
While you turn your attention back toward the mower to clean it, Andy furrows his brows. You didn’t listen to music, danced around the garden, or planted more flowers over the last weeks.
All you did was hide in your house. Work. And pray your ex-husband won’t find out where you moved to. This fresh start is the last hope to you and you won’t risk losing it for a fight with Andy Barber.
“I like the sunflowers,” he points at the sunflowers you planted some weeks ago. “Yellow is a peaceful color. Don’t you think?”
You’ve got no clue what has gotten into the jerk. He tries to talk to you anytime he gets the chance. Since the neighborhood gathering, he changed his tactic. Or so you think.
“I read the rules again,” you don’t meet Andy’s gaze but duck your head. “Sunflowers are allowed. Mr. Abbot told me so too.”
“I didn’t…listen…just a minute,” Andy huffs as his phone starts ringing. “They are nice. Is all.” He watches you nervously play with your fingers. “Uh—you should get your own mower. It’s easier to mow your lawn more often.”
“Thank you for your advice,” you bite back. “Can I go inside now, or do you want to inspect the backyard too?”
He grins at your comeback but shakes his head. “What is it, Susan? It’s my day off,” you watch Andy walk back toward his house. He barks into his phone at whoever dared to call him.
Well, he’s not your problem for today. You’ll avoid running into Andy for the rest of the day at all costs. You’re just not good at holding back your emotions anymore.
Not since you are free.
“Why did I have to come here on my day off, Susan? I hope it’s important,” Andy all but growls at his assistant. “What is it?”
“There’s this detective, Sir,” Susan whispers, not daring to speak any louder. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Honestly…” She steps a little closer to her boss, “he scared me a little bit. He has this look…”
“Look?” Andy cocks his head to glance at his office. “What do you mean? Did he say or do anything that makes you think he’s dangerous?”
“You can’t know this, but some men, violent men, have this look in their eyes. I know because my stepfather was that kind of guy. Right before he hit my mother, he got this look…”
“Violent men,” he whispers now too. “What’s his name? Why is he here, Susan?” Andy presses on.
“He said, that you conducted a state criminal records search for a woman named Y/N Y/L/N and that you asked the police to provide you with a document reflecting that there is no history of a criminal record. That’s all he said,” Susan nervously looks up at Andy.
“Where is he from?”
Susan hastily tells him the detective is from upstate New York. “I’m sorry for calling you but this man scared me.”
“It’s fine,” Andy licks his lips. “How about you take the rest of the day off? I will have a short talk with that detective.”
“I-thank you,” Susan is more than eager to leave her desk today. She’s still a little shaken from the encounter with the detective. He didn’t harm her, but she knows he wanted to.
“It’s fine,” Andy shrugs his jacket off and rolls up his shirt sleeves. “Have a nice day.” He nods a Susan before opening the door to his office. Andy takes a deep breath and prays he didn’t put you in danger with his unofficial investigations.
“Detective,” a few moments later Andy is back to his confident self, “what can I do for you? My assistant called me on my day off. This must be important then and couldn’t wait…”
Andy sits on his desk, eying the man opposite him warily. Susan was right. Something about the man doesn’t sit right with Andy either.
He met a lot of criminal and violent people over the years. Most of them can’t hide their violent nature from an experienced investigator. They are nervous, or aggressive. Some yell, or cry. Others remain silent but glare at you.
But this guy. Oh, this one is giving Andy a friendly smile, and even offers his hand. He introduces himself and shows Andy his badge, all the while staring at the laptop on Andy’s desk.
Good thing Andy didn’t use this laptop to find out more about you. No, he used his private laptop and a different log-in.
“You conducted a state criminal records search for a woman named Y/N Y/L/N. I want to know why,” the detective tries to keep his voice even, but Andy can hear the anger behind the faked smile. “Mr. Barber?”
“I conducted a state criminal records search for a woman named (different name) Y/L/N. This must be a mistake. Let me check my e-mails, detective,” Andy opens his laptop and switches it on. “What did that woman do? I mean you come here only for her.”
“She’s of interest.”
“I see,” Andy side-eyes the detective before he logs into his laptop. “Let’s see…” He hums and opens his e-mails. “I was looking for a witness for a current case. Wait…”
Andy pretends to look for a non-existent file. “We need to find that woman,” the detective presses on, “and would highly appreciate your help.”
“Just a minute. I should have the file…ah, there it is,” Andy opens a random file with a similar name. “See, the victim said a waitress called (different name) Y/L/N saw the attack too. I’m afraid this is a mix-up. My bad, I typed in the wrong forename.”
“A mistake? How can you make such a grave mistake.”
Ah, there he is. The aggressive and violent bastard hiding behind a smile. Just like Susan told him.
“I didn’t think my witness is of interest to anyone else. Mistakes happen, Detective. But you could’ve called me before coming here.”
“A mistake is a mistake, Mr. Barber.”
“You came a long way only to talk to me. What did that woman do? Maybe I can help you with your case.”
“I think we are done here. Thank you for your time.”
“Anytime, Detective Beck.”
Andy watches Quentin Beck gets up from his chair and walk out of his office. He inhales sharply the moment the door closes behind your ex-husband.
“What did I do?” he slams his laptop shut. “Fuck, now he’s got a lead…”
“I don’t understand,” you look at the invitation to another neighborhood gathering in your hands. “Why would he invite me this time? Is this his endgame? Or does he want to embarrass me in front of all of our neighbors?”
Doris is away for a few days and won’t be around to save you this time. If you won’t show up, they might kick you out of the gated community. Your only chance is to walk toward Andy’s house on wobbling legs, and a potato salad in your hands.
Your heart beats a little too fast, and you are already sweating when you balance the salad on your left hand to knock with the other.
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Andy immediately opens the door. He looks over your shoulder, clears his throat, and invites you in. “I see you followed my invitation to discuss my rules again.”
“Your rules?” you frown.
“I meant the community rules, Ms. Y/L/N,” he asks you inside. “You didn’t have to bring food. I got food and beverages. I’m afraid the others will be late.”
“I followed the rules, Mr. Barber,” you already start to defend yourself for something you didn’t even do. “I know them too.”
“I asked you to come here, to…” he hesitates. How can he tell you that your ex-husband is sniffing around town thanks to him and his nosiness? “We need to talk, don’t you think?”
“What did I do now?”
“Nothing…really,” he licks his lips. It’s still hard for him to be friendly to you, but he tries to remind himself that he’s in the wrong. “I was so hard on you as I believed you left your husband as my wife did with me. I know this is stupid, but you reminded me of my wife.”
“I’m not your wife.”
“Fuck, do you think I don’t know that?” he shakes his head. “I checked on your background and read divorced. I saw Laurie in you. I fucked this up.”
“Why did you want me to come here? I don’t understand,” you warily watch Andy. It’s one of your few talents that you learned to read the signs when someone is about to attack you.
“I wanted to—” Andy gasps when you flinch the moment he steps toward you. “I’m not going to hurt you, princess.” You shudder at the nickname, but there is something else in your eyes when he looks at you. “I made a stupid mistake and now…”
“He’s here…” you whimper. “No…how could you do this to me.” You drop the potato salad and step backward. “Is he here? Do you want to hand me over to him so someone else can move into my house?”
“Do you think so low of me? I know I was a jerk but this…,” he shakes his head. “I would never do such a thing.”
“How shall I know? All you did was harass me from the moment I got out of my car. You never had a kind word for me.”
“I admired your sunflowers.” He carefully steps closer again to place his hand on your cheek. “I will make sure he leaves town again. You just need to be careful.”
“You don’t understand,” you cry. “Quentin won’t give up. I had to run and hid at Thor’s place for months, so he won’t kill me. My lawyer handled everything else. Jennifer made sure that I don’t have to face him.”
“What did he do to you?” Andy runs his thumb over your cheek. “I need to know everything.”
“You know what he did,” you mumble. “It’s what monsters like my husband always do. They use their power and strength to hurt you. I couldn’t even go to the police because he’s a cop.”
“I’m sorry…”
“No. You’re not. He will find and kill me now. You can be happy,” you sniff. “My house will be empty soon enough…”
>> Part 4
Tags in reblog.
#Jerk next door (3) - The jerk and his rules#andy barber#andy barber x female reader#andy barber x you#andy barber x y/n#tw: mentions of domestic violence
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