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sleepyangelkami · 7 months ago

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WITHOUT HESITATION j.todd

☆ WORD COUNT - 3K

JASON TODD X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - jason, almost too late, realises that you're in immediate danger. when he finds you and your sister in a flipped car rigged to blow, he makes the impending decision to save you and not her, without hesitation.

☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, injury, explosions, car crash, arguing, worry/anxiety, the joker, mention of alcohol consumption, main character death (not j. or r.), grief, crying, (6) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

jason had realised much too late what was going on.

his head had been torn while working on the case with dick. what was joker going to do next, who was the target? after all, he never did go out without a bang. and he was getting closer and closer to the people they loved.

it was just a matter of time.

he had to admit, during all of this he'd managed to push you away. unintentionally, of course. you two were getting into it almost every day now. though he had to agree that it was his own doing and not yours. he'd snap, you'd merely stare, wondering what was wrong with him.

didn't you see? by the end of the week, joker would have gotham painted red if they didn't figure out his next move soon enough.

this was why jason was thankful your sister had come for the weekend to take you away. your sister, ashley, worked a long while away from gotham and it wasn't often that she came to see you. when she did, she turned her nose up at the sight. she never was a lover of gotham.

jason supposed, neither were you.

but as much as you hated the crime that circled gotham, the dirt on the street, the injustice of the entire city, you still loved it dearly. it was where you'd grown up and you just couldn't bring yourself to leave. so, you got a paying job, lived in the smallest of apartments where you spent most of your time with your lover. and if you and jason weren't there, you were spending time at the manor, wrapped up in jason's black sheets while he recited the books that lay on his night stand.

the trip ashley was taking you to would last a total of two days, the friday she came and the saturday after. you wouldn't be heading home until that sunday evening.

he hoped by then that he would have the case sorted out and it was safe enough for you to come home.

often times, he wondered what he was doing as red hood. perhaps it wasn't worth it anymore, would it be better to just let it all go? batman and nightwing could save gotham. he and you could live a normal, mundane, happy life. then he'd look at you in the midst of reading, glancing down at your closed eyes and pretty pouty lips. then, he'd be reminded of why he did what he did. to make gotham a better place for you and one day, for his family.

"you all set?" he questioned, shutting the trunk after lifting all your bags into the car. you'd told him you could do it yourself but he only insisted. he'd done enough to you in the past few days, you deserved this at least.

"yes." you grinned up at him, sweet as ever. even in he midst of chaos, you were the sweetest he'd ever seen. "apex grove awaits us!" you glanced to your sister who was sat in the car, leaning out the window with an ugly green suncap on her head apex grove written in yellow writing.

"it's gonna be the best weekend ever!" she was whooping in the car causing you to giggle at her antics. it would be the best weekend ever, for her, that was if she remembered any of it after she got shitfaced two nights in a row.

jason was not unfamilliar to your sister's drinking habits. but he thought what harm, it wasn't as if you were stupid enough to get dragged into it too. "you have fun, okay? not too much fun."

you listened to him huff out a laugh. "i will." before moving forward to let your head fall on his chest. hugging jason was what you assumed hugging clouds felt like. though you'd never experience it, you could still dream. "'m gonna miss you." you mumbled, only loud enough for the man to hear.

even during arguments, you were the only one that truly saw him.

you never blamed him for his short temper or his aggrivation he felt during cases like these. you only moved with caution, letting him know you were there. you were something he would be eternally grateful for.

"i'll miss you too, sweetheart." he mumbled back, pretty eyes glowing in the little sunlight that gotham got.

"bleh!" your sister yelled, rolling her eyes. "come on, y/n! we're gonna be late for the dinner reservation!"

"okay, bye." you reached up, kissing him on the lips ever so gently. "love you."

"love you too." watching as you made your way towards the passenger seat giddily. "take care of her!" placing his hands on his hips as though he were a mother.

"bye jason!" your sister only yelled back in response causing his brows to crease even further. was she trying to make him go grey in his prime? nevertheless, he waved towards your window until your sister's range rover left through the wayne manor's gates.

while watching them close on the way out, he felt a certain tightness in his chest. worry. he worried for you, worried that something would happen to you while you were gone. then he reassured himself that here was where the trouble was. if anything, he should be thankful you were anywhere but here.

you'd given jason a key to your apartment. you'd always insisted he'd take one anyway but he never did, you soon learned that was because he sort of liked coming through your window, grin on his face as you jumped sheepishly with a fright.

now, however, the key was forced into his back pocket.

you'd told him he'd better stay at yours for at least the nights, reassuring him that this whole joker business would get sorted out as it always did. you told him that whatever he was to do, he was at least to get sleep in your apartment and not stay cooped up in the manor wondering where joker will land next.

and he really wanted to make you happy, truly.

but it was now sunday and they were no closer than they were before.

bruce was injured, heavily so, from the joker's last attack. alfred had all but bedbound him, forcing him onto the lush mattress that costs more than your apartment complex put together.

so for the most part, it was just dick and jason on this one. tim was away and damian wasn't trusted on something so severe without the guidance of bruce.

alfred popped in once or twice to deliver food and assure that they were getting the rest and nutrition that they needed.

however, all the brothers could do was think the entire events over and look for clues. "three wheels on fire." dick's hands were clasped in his lap while he sat by the computers. "that's what he said, why didn't he show?"

the men had thought for sure that the joker would have struck at the fun fair. gotham was throwing one and there happened to be exactly three ferris wheels. "i don't know." leaning his face onto his hand that was propped onto the table. a map lay atop it. "maybe it was to throw us off his trail?"

"no chance!" dick quickly shut him down as he stood, pacing the cave. "maybe something went wrong. maybe he messed up. three wheels on fire, i mean, that was his chance! what else could he have been talking about." seconds passed before dick practically had a light bulb appear over his head. "a car? three cars?"

"that could be any three cars." jason waved him off. "how on earth would we figure out who? besides, three random civilians? don't you think it's a little too.... theatrical for three civilians?"

dick slumped back into his chair. "the joker does love his theatrics."

and jason had to agree with that. his eyes glanced down to the map, scanning it, until... "dick." his head turned. "hand me that red marker?" doing as he was told, dick handed jason the red marker that he used to scribble little dots against the page.

in confusion, the older boy watched him. he watched as fear suddenly took over his face, draining him to a ghostly while colour. dick hadn't seen jason scared of many things but whatever he had just uncovered... that was enough fear for a lifetime. "talk to me jaybird."

he swallowed thickly, already standing. "everywhere the joker's hit has been in pathway's through towns. every dot on the page is where he hit."

dick shook his head. "no, no, he didn't hit there." bulky finger lingering on the last spot on the page.

"no." he shook his head. "but it's the only dot that would connect the full circle. apex grove. it's where y/n is." the words came out sort of like a whisper, a whisper of pure fear.

"no, no, okay? you can't go off of some silly circle drawing, i mean, how do you know she's even in a car right now?" his hands were on jay's shoulders, trying to keep him steady in all his attempts. but jason's mind had already been clouded by fear and that enough had it made up.

"she's coming home tonight."

"that still doesn't prove anything!"

"dick." his face stern and steady. "if anything happens to her," voice cracking ever so softly. "if anything happens to her, i won't forgive myself."

dick swallowed too, realising perhaps jason was right. and even if he wasn't, was it a situation he was willing to put your life on the line for? "okay, let's go."

"it's so dark." you giggled, glancing out the window. you were... tispy, you could say. thing is, you'd been the sober one for friday and saturday night so ashley decided you were going to drink at least one night so she decided why not now, it wasn't as if you had to drive back to gotham, she had that handled.

"yeah." she chuckled. "tends to happen when the sun goes down." you hummed, sitting back up. you weren't exactly drunk, everything was just buzzing a little. "i didn't wanna ask because i didn't wanna ruin the whole night or anything but what was going on with you and jason?"

"what do you mean?" you questioned, turning your head to her while laying it against the seat. tiredness consumed you whole and while you'd loved this little getaway with your sister, you were thankful to be sleeping in your apartment bed tonight.

she shrugged her shoulders, eyes set on the dark road ahead. "i don't know, thought there was a little tension or something."

"we had a little fight." you admitted, absentmindedly gazing out the window. "but it's okay, all couples fight, right?" you couldn't tell her why you'd fought because that would include telling her about the fact that he worked with batman against the joker and that didn't seem like a great way to tell her.

"oh yeah, you should see me and theo." theo was her husband, the father to her kid, teddy, it was supposed to be sort of like theo but you didn't know if that was how it actually sounded. "we fight all the time."

"but you love him." you added.

"oh yeah, to bits." grinning and for a split second, glancing at you. "and as a girl in love, i can tell when other people are in love. and you and jason are just... soulmates." you huffed out a little laugh. "no, seriously, i've never seen two people so in love. i mean, all through highschool, i really thought you were gonna end up a crazy old cat lady."

"i do like cats."

"mm, always did."

BANG !

jason swore he broke every speed limit known to man, he didn't care. he couldn't care. dick waited until the motorbike slowed to a stop.

the men discarded the vehicles before stepping onto the road, staring in shock.

in the darkness of the night, a range rover could be made out, lights still on, though it appeared only one was working. it had been flipped on it's backside, one wheel discarded on the other side of the road. what had hit them? jason had no idea but what he did know was that there was a kind of ringing in his ear, fear.

"is that them, jason?!" it wasn't the first time dick had yelled out the question.

though his voice suddenly brought him back to life, his brows knitted. "the car's not on fire." he mumbled, confused. "dick, the car isn't on fire."

"oh shit." instinctively taking a step back. "it's gonna blow up."

the words should have registered in jason's mind to get the fuck out of there. instead, he ran towards the car.

he heard the faint yell of "jason!" from behind him. but there was only one thing on jason's mind as of now. and that was you.

he found you quick enough, popping off the door with his strength instead of wasting any more time. he could see you flipped in the passenger seat, your sister next to you. even when blood dripped from your forehead and your nose, gash against your hairline, you looked almost peaceful, as if you were only sleeping.

it caused genuine fear in him. jason swore he'd never been so scared.

knowing that at any moment the car could explode, he grabbed your limp body with ease, carrying it until you were a safe enough distance from the car and setting you down on the ground.

"y/n? baby, can you hear me?" dick watched as his baby brother held his limp girlfriend in his arms. "y/n, wake up. wake up!" as if in some distant world, you'd heard him, your eyes slowly peeled themselves awake. "there you are, there you are, huh?" though a laugh emitted his mouth, there were tears in the corner of your boyfriends eyes.

confusion washed over you, eyes hazy. "where am i?" but before you could receive an answer, everything came flooding back and you began sitting up, turning your head. "where's ashley?"

you were leaning on your arm, the other had a wound soaking through your shirt.

the men didn't respond, glancing to one another. going in there meant risking their lives. and sure, they risked their lives every day for the people of gotham but that car could blow at any minute. "where is she?" you practically cried, eyes turning to the flipped car behind jason. "she's still in there?!"

"y/n, listen―"

you cut dick off, trying to stand. "no! no! i have to get her!"

jason held you though it didn't take much, your body already weak. "sweetheart, the car is gonna blow, we can't risk you―"

"i have to save her! get off!" as much as you tried to writhe against him, it worked at no avail. "jason, get off me! jason!" dick's heart pained as jason's hand soothed the back of your head, pushing it against his shoulder.

BANG !

you swore you screamed, you heard a scream, you think. it was all really hard to remember. you clawed at jason, crying into his redhood suit shoulder, sobbing horrendously as you watched the car that held your sister burst into flames.

jason held you, not uttering a word and watching dick flee the scene, most likely in suit of finding the joker. he could only hold you close, listening you scream the word 'no' on repeat.

"i know, i know." he swore he could feel his own eyes muddling with the same glassy tears that yours were covered with. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."

at some point, you turned your eyes away from the explosion, face in jason's chest. you no longer fought against him, crying so loudly as he held your wrists against him, trying everything in his will to pick the pieces of you up. but in some way, he felt as though he'd caused them.

"she's gone." you sobbed out violently against him. "she's gone." the words repeated in your brain. you'd lost many people to gotham but never did you think you'd lose her, anyone but her.

"baby, you're bleeding." blood covered your hands and his, practically dripping down your face. "we need to get you to a hospital."

but you were beyond the point of caring, blubbering with few whimpers between. all you could think was your pretty sister, a husband and a kid, burned away in an explosion. she was gone and she was not coming back. "i- i can't." hyperventilating out the words. "i can't l-leave."

"i got you." you felt him help you off the stone ground, your knees weak. though nothing really registered, a ringing in your ears. even hours later, he kept repeating the same words. "i got you. i got you." sitting on the hospital bed next to you while you sat with a sullen look in your eyes. you were far away, that much was obvious but no longer stained with the vicious blood.

"she's gone." it came out much calmer now, though tears still coated your glassy red eyes. "why didn't you take her and not me?" though it was a stupid question.

even in your clouded mind you knew that if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

"i had to save you." he answered.

when he saw you were in that flipped over car, knowing there was a chance he could have blown up with you, he took it anyway, grabbing your limp body without hesitation.

he'd rather die than let something happen to you.

and in this case, he'd rather let someone else die than any harm to come to you. and that was simply something he wasn't afraid to admit.

he could lose. he had lost. he lost almost everything from his family to the world around him. but he couldn't lose you. no, anything but you.

main masterlist/jason's masterlist

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kalpeavaris · 1 day ago

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Cyn - Creature/Furry AU - [Lore Post]

Worked at the Elliott Manor as a maid, was fairly shunned and often avoided by other Workers due to her appearance and clumsy behaviour. Often reprimanded by the Elliotts for her attitude and way of working, with Tessa encouraging Cyn & making sure she was kept on the estate.

Smaller than any of her siblings (who she does not know, sadly) or most Civets due to malnourishment during her younger years.

Tessa was actually the one to bring Cyn from the labratories she worked at into her home, as Cyn was being used as a "lab rat" for several testings due to her Albinism.

Cyn was the first and only person to come into direct contact with the sample of the "Absolute Solver", a mutated and self-aware Virus strain similar to Rabies or CWD (chronic waste disease).

Tessa brought the sample home in secret to hopefully continue working on cracking its code in her freetime, which is how Cyn found it while cleaning her room.

Due to Cyn's weak immune system the virus took hold of her fairly easily, nestling inside of her brain & being able to speak to her.

Thanks to the Solver's self-awareness of being a virus and its abilities it found the task of manipulating Cyn and using her as host to (hopefully) spread itself in the future fairly easy.

Over time, the Solver convinced Cyn that Tessa & her family were the Ones responsible for her being infected with the "sickness", convincing her to kill everyone on the estate on the night of a very important business meeting / gala event.

After wiping out the entirety of the Elliott family and their guests, Cyn fled the estate to Camp 98.7 where she hid and the Solver slowly started to mutate her body, taking inspiration from several animals and creatures in order to form the "perfect apex" for its plans.

The Solver deemed Cyn's fragile & rather weak appearance and demeanor as "not functional" for its plans, hence the rapid want to transform her. Using its abilities it had the upper hand and ability to change every aspect of the Civets outer appearance, almost shattering her mind while doing so.

What was left of Cyn during the story was... a chimera, all and nothing at the same time, made from parts the Solver deemed "useful" for the future plans it had on its mind. Horns for offense, wings to soar the sky, legs capable of running on both two and four legs, powerful jaws and teeth to kill, scales to protect the body - it saw her as imperfect, each change a desperate try to make her into something that could be deemed "perfect". Wielding the sword she had used to kill the Elliott family, she was ready to go to war for the Solver... albeit unwillingly. The Solver, appearing to her as a huge, grotesque hyena, was always there in the back of her mind (literally), steering her every move. It only allowed Cyn to move by herself when she was alone, often watching and belittling her for having issues to move and coordinate herself in this new body of hers. After the Solver arc and its destruction, Cyn was able to gain the upper hand over her mind - which took alot of time and help from other people (especially N and Uzi). She was capable of changing some aspects of her body "back" in some sense, however, alot is irreversible.

Was able to change her face slightly (removed the scaling on her snout, made it more cat-like with a more rounded appearence) & her ears rounder, similar to how they were as Civet

Made the wings way smaller as she dislikes them. Can't remove them entirely, but them being this small works. She hides them under clothes when she wears them.

Made her tail resemble her old one more with a more rounded tail tip & fluffy appearence.

Walks on both 2 and 4 legs, but due to her changed anatomy she involuntarily prefers 4 legs.

Whenever she walks on 2 legs she has to use the cane, as it's difficult for her to keep herself stable.

The Solver had used her body for so long that it became almost impossible for Cyn to act on her own - when she was possessed, it was like she was watching from a seat in her mind while the Solver moved her.

The first few weeks after her freedom was regained she almost didn't move at all without being told to or prompted by Uzi and N, not out of malice or to annoy them, but simply because she just... didn't know she had to move by herself. She was so used to someone else doing it that she forgot those instincts.

This also applies to her speaking - it was mostly the Solver speaking through her, so Cyn forgot her own voice and got kinda freaked out when she first heard it. Thanks to all the physical changes her voice also changed ALOT - from soft and timid to almost rasp, growly and deep.

Despite her looks she's still very timid. Way more extroverted than her former Civet-self, but still withdrawn from Strangers. When she first met Uzi properly she was kinda taken aback by Uzis extremely outgoing persona :']]

Bit Uzi once during an episode of flashbacks when Uzi assumed her to be conscious and came closer without warning, which resulted in Cyn biting off her arm (don't worry, Uzi gets a sick robotic replacement B]]) Uzi apologized profusely for the incident, while Cyn did the same for hurting her - fell in love at the first arm amputation /j

Found her confidence again thanks to Uzi dragging her along on her way to love herself.

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st-juliet · 2 months ago

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Utmost Merit, Part V

Character: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.

Content: Absolutely 18+ for very very very filthy language, smut with minimal plot, purposely unprotected sex, breeding kink, spouses-to-lovers, pregnancy, and some period-typical gender roles, but nothing unkind or insidious.

Notes: What if I told you I'm back?

Previous Chapters: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The first week of your married life is like a dream.

The day after your wedding, Sherlock whisks you off to his family estate, a rambling manor house set back within acres and acres of woodland paths and open fields, even more beautiful than he promised. His brother and sister’s absence and his generous afternoons and evenings off for the staff give ample opportunity for you to indulge in one another…all over the house.

He takes you in the library, pressed up against the shelves; bends you over the billiards table; and, with a wolfish grin, kneels and turns his lips and tongue to profane purposes as you perch upon the edge of his desk, clutching him closer by his hair and crying out in exaltation.

At first, this heedless freedom of passion is enough to distract you from the feelings which only grow the more time you spend with your husband, from your hours on the train and in the carriage—the conversation flowing and gentle touches exchanged—to boisterous picnics ending in you laughing your way across the lawn naked, with your ravenous lover in hot pursuit.

In these tender and impassioned moments, you find you can forget yourself: your fear and your longing fade as he pins your wrists above your head and ruts into you like an animal, growling sacrilegious curses into your ear, or when he gently, maddeningly slowly drags the head of his cock across the delicate bud at the apex of your thighs, cooing, “Such an impatient creature you are, Mrs. Holmes. I’ll have your pleasure from you first, then I will give you my cock…”

But these interludes of relief, when you can almost pretend that he returns your love in full measure, are more and more fleeting. As soon as your head rests upon his chest and your eyes flutter closed, drowsy in the warmth of his arms, you must shake yourself awake again, lest some sleepy murmur of affection escape you. When he tosses and turns in his sleep, you long to comfort him with promises of eternal devotion, your heart a safe harbor for all his worries and fears, but you can only try to comfort yourself with the knowledge that at least you get to bask in the light of him for all your days, even if the shadows cast by that light mar your joy.

A fortnight since the wedding and near a month after you first gave yourselves to one another fully, those shadows have prevailed. For the third morning in a row, you have awoken melancholy and quiet, slipping out to walk the grounds before he wakes. Your heart is most compromised in the morning, seeing Sherlock at his most vulnerable: fluttering eyelids, half-parted lips, his colossal form stretched out and laid bare to your besotted eyes and fervent hands. If you woke him with a kiss—or anything more—you knew you might not leave bed for hours.

But you cannot risk it today. If he so much as opened his eyes, your first words would be “I love you”, and the spell would be broken, the arrangement betrayed, the trust between two equals thrown into an even greater imbalance. You are protecting him, you reason as you quietly dress, from a revelation that would only cause you both greater pain. The fresh air, you hope, will do you good and clear your head, and perhaps you will contrive as you walk some means by which you can fall out of love with the man who, you suspect more and more each day, has already given you his child.

Hours later, having traced course of a babbling brook back and forth a half dozen times and circled the tallest tree of the estate over and over again, your spirit and body grow weary—and your stomach unsettled—and you know you must return home. As you approach the house, you can see Sherlock through the wide window in the parlor, fully dressed and pacing back and forth, raking his hands through his hair. He catches your eye through the glass and, to your dismay turns away, whether in anger or embarrassment you cannot tell. Your heart plummets. You know you must go in to him, and when you arrive in the parlor, he faces you and acknowledges you with a slight bow, as if you were virtual strangers again.

“Was your walk pleasant?”

“Yes, thank you.”

For the first time since his proposal, a tense, wary silence grows between you. His manner is as sober as your own, and you uneasily hover in the doorway, unsure as to whether he welcomes your presence or would rather you go right back out again.

“Will you come and sit with me?” he asks at last, and you gingerly join him on the settee below the window. Not quite meeting your gaze, he continues, “Rosamund, these past few days, I have sensed a distance, such as has not been since we were strangers. Even when we…when I hold you most nearly…a veil has fallen between us.”

“I cannot deny it,” you murmur, steeling yourself for the conversation you have been dreading.

“Do you know the cause?” he asks.

He knows. He must know. And now he would have you name it.

“I know…I have realized that our feelings for one another…differ.”

He nods slowly, murmurs, “I have deduced the same,” and turns his face away from you, taking a slow, deep breath. The moment seems to stretch for hours, each second heavier than the last.

“Well. We are more fortunate than most,” he says at last in a measured tone, a pained smile barely flickering across his lips as he glances back at you, only to look away again immediately. “In that our minds, our tastes, and our purposes in life are so aligned. It would have been too much to ask of providence that our hearts be likewise matched, do you not think so?”

“Indeed,” you manage, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You know he does not mean to hurt you, in bringing this matter to light—entirely the opposite. You promised one another perfect honesty, but you began to think suffering in silence and doubt was far better than this excruciating surety: he had recognized your love, but did not requite it.

“If you are yet amenable to our shared purpose, I myself am wholly undeterred. Every word I have said to you is true: my respect for you, for the exemplary wife and someday mother you show yourself to be, takes precedence over all. But given the circumstances, we might perhaps continue with a more…restrained approach. If you prefer to cease our relations for the moment and wait until such a time as you may have surety of your condition, I will resume my lodgings at Baker Street in anticipation of a verdict. We may then renegotiate our terms, one way or another. But you must know that no matter what, you will never be without my protection and devotion. And my utmost fidelity.”

“Oh, oh, no, Sherlock, how could I ask—?”

“And, if one day you find you love another—”

“Love another?! I could not love another, I love only y—!”

“—I will turn my eyes away and bear it without hesitation or complaint. But I can no longer pretend! I love you. I will love you till my dying breath and whatever remains of me beyond this life will still seek your service, your comfort, your good. I cast myself upon your mercy, Rosamund!”

Sherlock Holmes, his eyes brimming with tears, falls upon his knees before you, taking your hands in his.

“Will you forgive me that I cannot pretend any longer? Will you still have me? Will you still allow me to be a husband to you, to care for you and build a life for you and for our…?”

His voice trails off into a stifled cry, and you throw your arms around him, covering his face with kisses as your own tears flow.

“Sherlock! Please, oh please don’t cry, my love!” The torrent of adoration you have stemmed for so long pours fourth from you as though a dam had burst. “My dearest friend, my very heart…we have mistaken one another! I thought you did not love me!”

Sherlock’s demeanor shifts in a heartbeat, as if he has been struck by lightning.

“You love me?”

“I have loved you since long before I knew it! And every minute we share delivers me a new reason to love you more, every day better than the last, every word I speak to you a profession of my love! I could not pretend either…for no other reason could I tear myself from your side. Forgive me my coldness! I thought it for the best—”

“No, no, there is nothing to forgive,” he insists, rising and drawing you up to stand, completely enveloped in his arms, pressing fervent kisses to your cheeks and forehead and lips. ““I have most of all deceived myself in swearing I was no romantic! What a fool to think I could resist the call of a soul’s companion? My perfect angel, my salvation! I will spend a lifetime making up for a month’s lack of telling you of my love.”

“I shall never grow tired of it,” you promise him, each breath a sigh of relief, a prayer of thanks, a new dawn of hope.

“There is no man alive who knows my joy, nothing on earth that can surpass it!”

“Nothing?” you reply very quietly, unable to be measured or careful now…it was far, far too late for that. “Then you do not wish to hear of another happiness?” For the second time in a single morning, the whole earth’s axis shifts as Sherlock’s eyes widen. You quickly continue, “It is early yet. Too early. But yet I…I feel it, in my heart, as surely as I feel I love you.”

Sherlock Holmes bows his head and weeps in earnest, burying his face in your hair as he holds you tightly and whispers over and over again, “My love, my wife…”

If you enjoyed, please do peruse my Masterlist!

And if anyone who read this story once upon a time when I first wrote it is still out there, and would like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know! 😘🥰

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x ofc #enola holmes fanfic #sherlock holmes x you #henry!sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The internet is not a (link)dump truck

Monday (October 2), I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

The second decade of the 21st century is truly a bounteous time. My backyard has produced a bumper crop of an invasive species of mosquito that is genuinely innovative: rather than confining itself to biting in the dusk and dawn golden hours, these stinging clouds of flying vampires bite at every hour that God sends:

https://themagnet.substack.com/p/the-magnet-081-war-with-mosquitoes

Here in the twilight of capitalism's planet-devouring, half-century orgy of wanton destruction, there's more news every day than I can possibly write a full blog post about every day, and as with many weeks, I have arrived at Saturday with a substantial backlog of links that didn't fit into the week's "Hey look at this" linkdumps.

Thus, the eighth installment in my ongoing, semiregular series of Saturday linkdumps:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

This week, the miscellany begins with the first hesitant signs of an emerging, post-neoliberal order. The FTC, under direction of the force-of-nature that is Lina Khan, has brought its long-awaited case antitrust case against Amazon. I am very excited about this. Disoriented, even.

When was the last time you greeted every day with a warm feeling because high officials in the US government were working for the betterment of every person in the land? It's enough to make one giddy. Plus, the New York Times let me call Amazon "the apex predator of our platform era"! Now that it's in the "paper of record," it's official:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

Now, lefties have been predicting capitalism's imminent demise since The Communist Manifesto, but any fule kno that the capitalist word for "crisis" also translates as "opportunity." Like the bedbugs that mutated to thrive in clouds of post-war DDT, capitalism has adapted to each crisis, emerging in a new, more virulent form:

https://boingboing.net/2023/09/30/bedbugs-take-paris.html

But "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop" (Stein's Law). Perhaps our mistake was in waiting for capitalism to give way to socialism, rather than serving as a transitional phase between feudalism and…feudalism.

What's the difference between feudalism and capitalism? According to Yanis Varoufakis, it comes down to whether we value rents (income you get from owning things) over profits (income you get from doing things):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

By that metric, the FTC's case against Amazon is really a case against feudalism. Through predatory pricing and acquisitions, Amazon has turned itself into a chokepoint that every merchant, writer and publisher has to pass through in order to reach their customers. Amazon charges a fortune to traverse that chokepoint (estimates range from 45% to 51% of gross revenues) and then forces sellers to raise their prices everywhere else when they hike their Amazon prices so they can afford Amazon's tolls. It's "an economy-wide hidden tax":

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-ftc-sues-to-break-up-amazon-over

Now, feudalism isn't a straightforward proposition. Like, are you sure you mean feudalism? Maybe you mean "manorialism" (they're easy to mix up):

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

Plus, much of what we know about the "Dark Ages" comes from grifter doofuses like Voltaire, a man who was capable of dismissing the 800 year Holy Roman Empire with a single quip ("neither holy, roman, nor an empire"). But the reality is a lot more complicated, gnarly and interesting.

That's where medievalist Eleanor Janeaga comes in, and her "Against Voltaire, or, the shortest possible introduction to the Holy Roman Empire" is a banger:

https://going-medieval.com/2023/09/29/against-voltaire-or-the-shortest-possible-introduction-to-the-holy-roman-empire/

Now, while it's true that Enlightenment thinkers gave medieval times a bum rap, it's likewise true that a key element of Enlightenment justice is transparency: justice being done, and being seen to be done. One way to distinguish "modern" justice from "medieval" trials is to ask whether the public is allowed to watch the trial, see the evidence, and understand the conclusion.

Here again, there is evidence that capitalism was a transitional phase between feudalism and feudalism. The Amazon trial has already been poisoned by farcical redactions, in which every key figure is blacked out of the public record:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-27-redacted-case-against-amazon/

This is part of a trend. The other gigantic antitrust case underway right now, against Google, has turned into a star chamber as well, with Judge Amit P Mehta largely deferring to Google's frequent demands to close the court and seal the exhibits:

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

Google's rationale for this is darkly hilarious: if the public is allowed to know what's happening in its trial, this will be converted into "clickbait," which is to say, "The public is interested in this case, and if they are informed of the evidence against us, that information will be spread widely because it is so interesting":

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/secrecy-is-systemic

Thankfully, this secrecy is struggling to survive the public outrage it prompted. While the court's Zoom feed has been shuttered and while Judge Mehta is still all-too-willing to clear the courtroom during key testimony, at least the DoJ's exhibits aren't being sealed at the same clip as before:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/9/27/23892215/google-search-antitrust-trial-documents-public-again-judge-mehta-rules

In 2023, the world comes at you fast. There's an epic struggle over the future of corporate dominance playing out all around us. I mean, there are French antitrust enforcers kicking down doors of giant tech companies and ransacking their offices for evidence of nefarious anticompetitive plots:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/9/28/23894863/nvidia-offices-raided-french-competition-authority

As ever, the question is "socialism or barbarism." But don't say that too loud: in America, socialism is a slur, one that dates back to the Reconstruction era, when pro-slavery factions called Black voting "socialism in South Carolina."

Ever since, white nationalists used "socialism" make Americans believe that "socialism" was an "extremist" view, so they'd stand by while everyone from Joe McCarthy to Donald Trump smeared their opponents as "Marxists":

https://thehill.com/homenews/campaign/4066499-trump-paints-2024-campaign-as-righteous-crusade/

As Heather Cox Richardson puts it for The Atlantic, "There is a long-standing fight over whether support for the modern-day right is about taxes or race. The key is that it is about taxes and race at the same time":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2023/09/american-socialism-racist-origins/675453/

The cruelty isn't the point, in other words. Cruelty is the tactic. The point is power. Remember, no war but class war. All of this is in service to paying workers less so that bosses and investors can have more.

Take "essential workers," everyone from teachers to zookeepers, nurses to librarians, EMTs to daycare workers. All of these "caring" professions are paid sub-living wages, and all of these workers are told that "they matter too much to earn a living wage":

https://www.okdoomer.io/praise-doesnt-pay/

The "you matter too much to pay" mind-zap is called "vocational awe," a crucial term introduced by Ettarh Fobazi in her 2018 paper:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Vocational awe is how creative workers – like the writers who just won their strike and the actors who are still fighting – are conned into working at starvation wages. As the old joke goes, "What, and give up show-business?"

https://ask.metafilter.com/117904/Whats-the-joke-thas-hase-the-punchline-what-and-give-up-show-business

In this moment of Big Tech-driven, AI-based wage suppression, mass surveillance, corruption and inequality, perhaps we should take a moment to remind ourselves that cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion. Or, more to the point, the warning was about high-tech corporate takeover of our lives, and the suggestion was that we could seize the means of computation (a synonym for William Gibson's "the street finds its own use for things"):

http://www.seizethemeansofcomputation.org/

We are living in a lopsided cyberpunk future, long on high-tech corporate takeover, short of computation seizing. This point is made sharply in JWZ's "Dispatch From The Cyberpunk City," which is beautifully packaged as a Hypercard stack that you run on an in-browser Mac Plus emulator from the Internet Archive:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2023/09/neuroblast-dispatch-from-the-cyberpunk-city/

Cast your gaze ahead, to the near future: Public space has all but disappeared. Corporate landlords use AI-powered robots to harass the homeless. The robots, built slick and white with an R2-D2 friendliness now most resemble giant butt plugs covered in graffiti and grime.

Science fiction doesn't have to be a warning. It can also be a wellspring of hope. That's what I tried to do with The Lost Cause, my forthcoming Green New Deal novel, which Bill McKibben called "The first great YIMBY novel":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

Writing a hopeful novel of ecological, social and economic redemption, driven by solidarity, repair, and library socialism, was a powerful tonic against despair in this smoke-smothered, flooded, mosquito-bitten time. And while the book isn't out yet, there are early indications I succeeded, like Kim Stanley Robinson's reaction, "Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this."

And now, we have a concurring judgment from The Library Journal, who yesterday published their review, which concludes: "a thought-provoking story, with a message of hope in a near-future that looks increasingly bleak":

https://www.libraryjournal.com/review/the-lost-cause-2196385

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/30/mesclada/#melange

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boxboxblog · 2 months ago

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Driver Profiles: Esteban Ocon

Hello, this is part of a series where I focus on one driver on the current (as of Oct 2024) grid and give an overview over their career and driving styles. I will be going in championship points order. Enjoy!

Name: Esteban José Jean-Pierre Ocon-Khelfane

Age: 28

Nationality: French

Years in F1: 8 (Manor 2016, Force India 2017-2018, Renault/Alpine 2020-Present),

Number: 31

WDCs: N/A

Driving Style: Known as one of the most aggressive drivers on the grid (up there with Magnussen) Ocon is particularly feisty when fighting for positions and overtaking. He balances this aggression with a rather smooth way of driving, and he is the least jerky driver when coming into the apex. He is also well known for strong performances in the wet, pulling out some stellar qualifyings and race results in these difficult conditions. One downside of his style is that this aggression often leads to on-track clashes. He is rather well known for being somewhat reckless, especially in midfield fights.

History:

(Young Ocon, middle, after wining a karting race)

Born into a standard middle class family, Ocon's family actually had to sell their house to afford his professional carting career. He started when he was 6 years old, and lived out of a travelling caravan for most of that time. In 2006 he finished 8th in the Minime class of the French Championship. He won the championship in 2007 and continued his success by winning the Cadet class in 2008. He then spent three years racing in the KF3 category and competed in the Spanish Championship and Italian Open Masters. He won the French KF3 title in 2010 and finished as 2nd in the WSK Euro Series in 2011 behind, behind future F1 WDC Max Verstappen. During this time he attracted F1 attention, being signed to a sister management company to Renault.

(Ocon in the lead during his karting days)

In 2012, Ocon made his debut in single-seaters, taking part in the Eurocup Formula Renault 2.0. He finished 14th, having won a few points scoring positions and one podium. He also participated in a partial campaign in the Formula Renault 2.0 Alps, finishing 7th and achieving two podiums. He remained in the series for 2013, and recorded one pole position and two race wins. He finished the season in 3rd behind future F1 teammate, and rival, Pierre Gasly.

(Ocon during Eurocup Formula Renault days)

Ocon made his debut in F3 during the 2013 season, racing for F3 powerhouse team, PREMA. He continued with them into the 2014 FIA F3 European Championship. He topped the standings at the first round at Silverstone Circuit and remained in the lead of the championship for the rest of the season. With three races left, Ocon clinched the F3 2014 title. He had won nine races and recorded fifteen pole positions. This was one of the most standout seasons of his career, and one that helped ensure a F1 seat later.

(Ocon his F3 championship winning year)

Ocon moved to the GP3 Series for 2015. It was a fantastic year for Ocon, mostly due to his consistantly high results. While he only won one race that season, his regular podium finishes allowed him to win the title that year. The next year he took part in the 2016 DTM season, as well as being a reserve driver for Renault. He was only able to take part in the early season races, as halfway through the year he was pulled up to F1 backmarker team Manor Racing to replace Rio Haryanto.

(Ocon with Manor)

His first season (half season) with Manor was not a standout performance wise, as he never hit points, but it paved the way for Ocon to join Force India for their 2017 season after Manor left F1. His first year with Force India he teamed Sergio Perez and had a relatively solid year. He regularly scored points, even with some high-points finishes, and his highest finish was 5th. That year he experienced significant friction with his teammate (a running theme) and they made contact several times, sometimes resulting in retirements or massive position drops. However, he still had a good year and finished 8th in the championship.

(Ocon and teammate in the 2017 Force Indias)

2018 was a more negative year, as Ocon had a string of bad luck and run-ins with both his teammate and other drivers (memorably a physical altercation with Max Verstappen). He did not finish as high in the points that year, and it was further complicated after Force India went into administration. The team's assets were bought by Lawrence Stroll and it became clear that Ocon would not be returning to Force India for the 2019 season. He did have an informal agreement with Renault for that season, but he was dropped after they signed Daniel Riccardo instead. For the 2019 season, he served as the 2019 season he served as the Mercedes reserve driver.

(Ocon on podium with Lance Stroll)

2020 Ocon finally signed with Renault to partner Riccardo, and had a mixed bag year. He achieved his best result ever and his first podium at the Sakhir GP, but also experienced a lot of mechanical failures during races throughout the year. He ended the season 12th in the championship behind his teammate. 2021 Renault rebranded to Alpine and retained Ocon, now partnering Fernando Alonso. This would be the year Ocon achieved his maiden GP victory at the Hungarian GP. he showed his extreme skill in wet-weather conditions during this race, and solidified himself as a skilled driver in complex weather. The rest of the year was rather normal, as he scored several points finishes. He did match his WDC teammate rather closely, which is a feat.

(Ocon after maiden win)

2022 was a better year with some higher points finishes. He achieved his best championship finish since 2017, ending the season in 8th. 2023 Alonso left Alpine, and he was partnered by childhood rival and fellow Frenchman Pierre Gasly. The two would match each other pretty well, and have similarly middling seasons for both 2023, and 2024 so far. Halfway through the 2024 season Alpine announced they will not be retaining Ocon for the 2025 season. Shortly after, Ocon was announced for the 2025 Haas lineup.

Major Races:

2017 Canadian GP - Ocon's first points finish, he showed he could handle the pressure as a rookie (bar his time with Manor) and showed the first glimpse of the consistent points he would score later.

2017 Mexican GP - A very strong midfield performance from Ocon. He used strong defense against much faster cars and finished the race in 5th place, his highest at the time.

2018 Belgian GP - His most impressive qualifying to date, he was able to achieve a P3 start in extremely wet conditions. One of the earlier indicators of his skill in the wet.

2020 Sakhir GP - Ocon's first podium, he climbed his way up the field from 11th. It was a rather chaotic race, and he kept calm in the face of multiple crashes, safety cars, and pit stop drama.

2021 Hungarian GP - His first victory came in the most chaotic race of 2021. After several frontrunners were taken out by a crash, Ocon battled midfield drivers for the top step, including 4X WDC Sebastian Vettel. His mistake-free race earned him his 1st place finish.

That is all for Ocon, up next is Franco Colapinto.

Cheers,

-B

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 driver profiles #esteban ocon

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metalljellyphish · 7 days ago

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So hey that vampire Marji concept??? What a cute apex predator 🥰

She’s a recently turned vampire, but not very great at it. So she goes searching for a mentor, oh but not just anyone, ONLY a vampire that fits her very romanticized ideas of a vampire (like this one pining and broody redhead that lives in the old manor hidden in the woods)

#south park #South Park au #sp marjorine #vampire butters #vampire marjorine #sketchbook

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moonlitxmermaid · 1 month ago

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°•○☆ Welcome to my Blog ☆○•°

About me

● Name: Mermaid

● Age: Late 20s

● Location: USA

● Gender: Genderfluid (she/they/he pronouns)

● Birthchart: Libra Sun, Scorpio Moon, Cancer Rising

● Personality Type: INFJ

● Sexual Orientation: I prefer women, I'm also Polyamorous

● Relationship Status: Single, not interested in dating anyone.

● Occupation: Movie Theater Employee

Interests & Hobbies

● Favorite Music Artists: Boygenius, Lucy Dacus, Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, Lauren Sanderson, Chappell Roan, Billie Eilish, Renee Rapp, Megan The Stallion, The Pretty Reckless, Tyler the Creator, Paramore, PVRIS, Avril Lavigne, Otep, System of a Down, and many more

● Favorite Movies: The Illusionist, Howls Moving Castle, Spirited Away, Kikis Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, The Boy & The Heron, Coraline, The Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, Lilo & Stitch, Tangled, Mulan, Hercules, Inside Out Movies, Lion King Movies, Harry Potter Movies, Marvel Movies, Batman Movies, Suicide Squad Movies, Birds of Prey, Terrifier Movies, The Conjuring Movies, Insidious Movies, Scream Movies, Jennifer's Body, Trick R Treat, Phantom of the Opera, Donnie Darko, Mean Girls (2004 & 2024), and many more

● Favorite TV Shows: Euphoria, Stranger Things, Haunting of Bly Manor, Wandavision, Game of Thrones, House of Dragon, Shameless, Wentworth, You, Wednesday, Bob's Burgers, Futurama, American Dad, Family Guy, The Simpsons, Avatar The Last Airbender, Adventure Time, Fiona & Cake, Batman The Animated Series, Powerpuff Girls, Ed Edd & Eddy, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Spongebob, Fairly Odd Parents, Pokémon, and Teen Titans. I also like anime, My favorites are Naruto(Shippuden), Death Note, Inuyasha, and Demon Slayer

● Favorite Games: Life is Strange, Kingdom Hearts, Pokémon Games, Sonic Games, Kirby Games, Mario Kart, Mario Party, Jackbox, Tekken Games, Genshin Impact, Minecraft, Apex Legends, Fall Guys, & Fortnite. I also love playing Blackjack, Uno, Mancala, and Cards against humanity

● Favorite Animals: Wolves, Foxes, Tigers, Lions, Cats, Dogs, Deer, Horses, Turtles, Axolotl, Otters, Penguin, Butterflies, Crows, and many more

● Favorite Colors: Black, Blue, Purple, Pink, and Green

● Favorite Interests: The Moon, The Sea, Spooky Stuff, Arts & Crafts, Nature, and Music

● Favorite Hobbies: Crafting, drawing, playing games, listening to music, going on nature walks, collecting shells, collecting crystals, photography, cooking, and watching stuff in bed

. . . I think that's about it!

°•○☆ Follow & DM me to chat ☆○•°

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yandere-fics · 9 months ago

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♡ Their Omega Darling Is Stalking Them ♡

♡ She's never really had an omega really take interest in her since her teen years before she developed a very harsh reputation, it just isn't worth it for most omega's so it's even more peculiar to see a maid omega stalking her and stealing items from her bedroom when you have far more to lose. Of course she's going to use this against you to get you to be her omega but for the time being she'll allow you to continue to do this until she enters her rut and has to find you and corner you whether you happen to be. ♡

♡ Just like with a normal stalker it is a bit annoying having someone constantly following her except this is just far more irritating since it's a fellow omega who smells so sweet, she smells tart and not at all how an omega should smell but you smell so good and you're into her too which only makes your smell sweeter and therefore enemies constantly are smelling you as a weak point and trying to attack you, she's just very upset you won't just walk with her instead of stalking behind, it would make it a lot easier to protect you plus she's pretty much already decided you are her omega even if she herself is an omega. She'll scent plenty of things for you even if you can't exactly build a proper nest while traveling. ♡

♡ Of course you're stalking her, such a freak but you're her freak so she doesn't really mind you following her around, it's only natural you'd want to follow n apex alpha plus it's so fun to watch you get all embarrassed in the fake dating contract and once the relationship because real she likes to tease you even more by forcing you to be even closer to her just to see how close to exploding you look. She does make sure you have plenty of scented items available and her knot is ALWAYS available to you, she needs to relieve some stress anyways. ♡

♡ She doesn't know what she could have done to earn this but she loves it. Perhaps her sunflower simmply realizes she is the only alpha who even comes remotely close to deserving you but you're too embarrassed to ask her, not to worry she will sweep you away to her manor where your every need will be fulfilled, she is so very happy you chose her as the alpha you want to protect and dote on you, she'd be upset if you had deemed another alpha worthy. She is a bit confused on why you'd want her scent in your nest but she is at her shy omega's beck and call so she'll give you what you need. ♡

♡ She doesn't like it to be frank. You're her lady which means you're not supposed to be following her aggressively, she's supposed to be following you aggressively, how did this dynamic get reversed? Sure she doesn't mind you taking the lead every once in awhile but for the majority of time she's supposed to be in charge, please quit following her already and just be a good omega and come to her for all your wants and needs before she feels the urge to lock you in her chambers until you finally understand she's the stalker(She doesn't really think of herself as a stalker but you get the point.) not you. ♡

♡ It's very weird how you follow her around her territory but never actually approach her, she wants to give you space to get used to the dragon who snatched you up but you seem to like her. She can't decide if she should keep waiting and hoping you'll actually approach one of these days or if she should approach or maybe this is a game and you want her to chase you and mate you but you don't run when she starts walking towards you, you only shake a bit and smell a bit aroused, she really can't figure out what was up with the stalking but either way she's happy to take up whatever invitation you were putting out. ♡

♡ She can smell an omega was all over her tower which is super cute, perhaps you can be her new girlfriend for the time being since you smell so sweet and you've been taking her items so you must want herr, very well she'll indulge. But then she locks eyes with you once and realizes you're the omega who keeps invading her tower and now she's bothered you didn't stay in the tower, you must have seen her first and had the love at first sight so why didn't you introduce yourself, well whatever the reason it's love at first sight so she's very happy with your stalking, she'll use her items as incentives to do more experiments with her. ♡

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere asks #yandere scenarios #my oc abigail #my oc theanna #my oc elisha #my oc pauline #my oc raphael #my oc ainsley #my oc veronia

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lovelyladylavie · 7 months ago

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👸Staris and Nabola👽: Learning about Earth Creatures 😺

Had to make Tussle an Orange Cat 🐈

Nabola takes his earth studies very seriously:

'The tiny apex predator that lives in the manor is very adept at hunting. Thank goodness it is so small and none bigger than this exist.'

#staris and nabola #lavie draws #terato #aliens #alien lover #monster love #monster boyfriend

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mademoiselle-red · 5 months ago

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5 Favorite Characters Poll (tag game)

Rules: make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

I was tagged by @lasenbyphoenix and since we are both cdrama enjoyers, I’ll also make this cdrama-themed. I have lots of faves, but these are the characters I find myself continually thinking about, analyzing, unable to let go of, long after I’ve moved on from their respective fandoms.

tagging @yletylyf , @bbcphile , @pi-ying-xi , @seventh-fantasy , @dangermousie and anyone else who’d like to play

Zhang Qiling: The only non-villain character on this list. I find myself returning to him whenever I plan trips to China. He is the perfect embodiment of my wanderlust — we both have an insatiable urge to see more of the country, in search of something we cannot name: perhaps a memory, a piece of the past, a sense of identity, a glimpse of the future.

Bailin: This is a character of many contradictions, which makes him fascinating (and it helps that he is played by my favorite actor Liu Xueyi). First, there is his personal struggle between his humanity and his divinity. Then, there is contradiction between Bailin as a morally neutral political actor in his role as a leader defending his people against invaders when their king refused to fight and the narrative’s depiction of him as the villain and the demons (who canonically do consume people in this show) as the victims. And finally, the conflicting storytelling that emerged out of the drama being filmed with the canonical Bailin/Luohou Jidu ship from the novel that was later mostly cut out of the show in post-production, which instead emphasized the Luohou Jidu/Sifeng ship (which doesn’t exist in the novel since these two characters never interacted).

Wang Xifeng: She was a more competent leader of people and manager of businesses than the men of the Jia household, but as woman, her gifts and ambitions were limited to the household. She was also just as corrupt and vain as the men who led the family to its eventual destruction, but she could have been so much more, greater and more terrible, if she’d been able to enter public life instead of being sequestered within the Jia manor. She’s like a beast, an apex predator, trapped in a golden cage. She was selfish and cruel, but she was also kind and generous to Qin Keqing and to Liu Laolao, and to many of the main characters as long as their interests didn’t conflict with her ambitions.

Cao Cao: There is something very romantic about his life. He was the grandson of a eunuch, shunned because of his lineage, rose to prominence in the army during the unrest and civil wars as Han royal power waned, conquered the northern lands, brought peace and order to his people, and became the supreme ruler of the north but would not crown himself emperor out of some (perhaps genuine perhaps feigned) moral obligation to the Han dynasty. He is cast as a villain in most adaptations because he kidnapped the young and incompetent heir of the Han royal family and used him as a puppet to rule over the territories he conquered. But he did bring peace to the northern lands, and he was a more competent ruler than many of the negligent and corrupt Han royals who came before him. And the dynasty he founded, the Wei Dynasty, gave birth to my favorite literary and aesthetic movement in Chinese history.

Jin Guangyao: As you can tell from the other character analyses above, I am fascinated by complex and contradictory characters who seek and weld political power. Ah Yao is a gentle and soft spoken person who is also ruthless and cold. He is a morally grey politician cast as the villain of the narrative because he is directly or indirectly behind the mysterious deaths that the main couple investigates. Jin Guangyao is similar to Cao Cao in many ways. He is a bastard child who killed those who’d wronged or threatened him and used those assassinations to rise to power. While in power he brought peace and stability to his people after a brutal civil wars: he built watch towers so that ordinary people could receive help from cultivators and he maintained peace among the various cultivator sects. He was cruel towards those who stood in his way to power (and survival) but he treated his nephew and heir with kindness. His rise to power left behind a trail of blood, but he is also the only character besides Lan Xichen (his political ally and backer in every step of his rise to power) with any semblance of a political vision in the novel. These many contradictory pieces that comprise “Jin Guangyao” are endlessly fascinating: Meng Yao the kind boy who helped a stranger, Meng Yao the desperate boy who took revenge on his abusers, Jin Guangyao the gentle and generous ruler and uncle, Jin Guangyao the ruthless and power-hungry usurper, son, husband, and brother.

#反派控的心肝儿们 #destined #love and redemption #mo dao zu shi #romance of the three kingdoms #hong lou meng

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pacentia · 2 years ago

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Provider

Pairing: Ratonhnhaké:ton/female!reader (established married relationship)

Words: 1.444

Notes: this is nsfw pregnant gratuitous smut with Connor Kenway. 10 years ago I was a fangirl, still a fangirl today.

Cosy and romantic is what would describe Davenport manor best in this strong winter weather. You had Ratonhnhaké:ton to thank for this. Your husband had built, improved and provided everything your home needed to bring your child into this world.

Your little one had been a deliberate and well thought out choice. The both of you knew a child and the Assassin's guild were not compatible, so you both left this life in the past to begin a new one - Ratonhnhaké:ton as protector of Homestead and you as Head of trade. There were no more visions of the Nexus, so you assumed that your duties had been fulfilled.

The community of homestead had prospered after all those years - from 10 people to around 50 men, women and children. This sense of community is something your man needed. He cared about everyone - he was there to make your community feel safe. Though now, you were at the top of his worries.

You were seven months along and with each passing month he fussed more than the last one. You should be warm enough. Your blankets should be soft enough. Of course, you didn't mind- this was how Ratonhnhaké:ton showed his love to you. Sunken away in thoughts, you didn't hear him come in downstairs as you lay bare underneath all your soft blankets in your large bed.

"Hello love," his soft voice greeted you, while his leather cladded hands sneaked up to your full belly. His lips pressed against your forehead. "Did you rest well?"

You hummed and nodded, inviting him to come lay beside you. The broad man rose from beside you to undress, discarding his heavy winter coat, unbuttoning his shirt until he was left in his undergarments. His arm wrapped around your back, so that your head rested underneath his chin.

"Trouble today?" You asked about his day.

"No," He answered. "I taught Maria's son how to set up animal traps though. He wanted to learn."

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck, your fingertips tracing over the defined muscles of his stomach. You loved hearing about his stories with the villagers. These were ordinary interactions really, but all those people truly looked up to him. There was only respect for your husband in this place, unlike his experiences with the people in Boston.

You shifted to lock eyes with his hazel ones and nuzzled against his caramel skin. "And, did he like it?" You asked.

He hummed, "He wanted to see the frontier afterwards, but Maria was not so keen on that."

You chuckled, "I miss the frontier as well."

"I know," Ratonhnhaké:ton answered softly. His free hand softly cupped your full belly. He knew you missed exploring the massive woods of the frontier but you had both decided that it was too dangerous after your encounter with a large pack of aggressive wolves in your second month along.

"Soon, my love." He promised. "But for now, I provide for you."

A warm heat welled up in your lower belly from his caring words. A flush spread among your cheeks. You were a fully independent woman - at least before pregnancy - but knowing you could fully rely on this strong, handsome man made you feel weak in the knees.

His hold on you got a little tighter and his free hand gently started rubbing over your stomach. The air in the room grew hot and your hips shifted in response. Ratonhnhaké:ton was well aware that certain things he said - or did, held sway over your body.

His large, calloused fingers made his way slowly to the apex of your thighs, which made you automatically part your legs for him. You gasped when he cupped your sex - his fingers gliding over the wetness of your lips. An audible gasp escaped your lips, burying your face in his neck. The manly musk of pine and sweat heightening your senses.

His fingers ever so softly glided over your entrance, spreading the wetness over your sensitive bud until you were a soaked mess. The native man knew just how to pleasure you, his dripping fingers playing, circling and teasing your clitoris. You held him close, moaning his true name in pleasure. Eventually the blanket grew far too hot for both of you, and you lay completely bare for him.

His palm pressed on your clitoris as his thick fingers snaked down, waiting right at your entrance. "Please - Ratonhnhaké:ton, i need you inside-"

He shushed you and made you look at him, his soft lips pressing against you, his tongue raking yours. "Yes, love. I need to prepare you first." A grin spread across his lips - which made you moan in return. You caught his large member twitch in his undergarments, and you didn't hesitate to pull them down - revealing his heavy 9-incher, oozing precum.

He knew you weren't a patient woman, so he plunged two of his thick fingers inside your sex - making your legs shake and his member leak even more. You moaned loudly, obscene sounds of sopping wetness filling the bedroom. He started pumping his fingers in and out, muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shining dark skin.

"You look so beautiful," He groaned in his deep and lustful voice. "So full with my child." He whispered in your ear, as his fingers plunged so deeply. His primal words did it for you, and a hot surge exploded in your tummy. Clear white liquid squirted all over his expert fingers and hands, soaking the sheets together with it. Your husband did not hesitate to taste his two fingers that were inside you, and sucked your cream off of them. He hummed in response, and enclosed his large member in his palm, coating himself with your sex juices. "Like honey," Your man groaned.

Immediately you pulled him in for a deep kiss, tongues intertwined - tasting yourself on his lips. You hadn't enough of him and you needed more- needed him really inside of you. Unable to wait any longer, you pulled his big body on top of you and begged him to take you. At once he indulged you, coating his thick cock with saliva and pressed his flush cockhead into your sex.

You were sure you entered heaven when you felt his thick cock slide deep inside you, your walls spreading to accommodate his impressive girth. He muttered expletives in his native tongue, setting a firm grasp on the flesh of your hips, careful not to hurt you in any way. You grasped for anything, the sheets, your pillow, his muscled arms - anything to hold onto to brace for impact as he entered you. His hips pressed deep inside you - all the way, until he was nestled right against your womb. He couldn't help himself but to stay there a few seconds and touch your body - the body of his Goddess - your breasts, your swollen belly, your legs in the air - your feet pressed his defined chest.

"Please, Ratonhnhaké:ton - please fuck me." You moaned desperately. Of course, your lover complied and started pistoning his strong hips inside you. You threw your head back in pleasure, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him. His dark skin possessed a light sheen of sweat, and each time he fucked himself deep into you, you watched the muscles, sinews move beneath his beautiful skin. His teeth gritted with each thrust and growled like a beast, while his hazel eyes focused on your body.

Your fingers found your clitoris, and the only thing you could think of was cumming for him - he always wanted you to finish first.

"Please cum, my love. I want to feel you cum on my big cock." He moaned in heat, pounding you into the bed. You bit your lips and nodded, focusing on the bodily pleasure he was giving you, his big cock deep inside you, firm in his hold, completely his. You cried out his name and your walls contracted around his large member, coming undone for your husband.

Your man couldn't last any longer and pinned both your hands above you, leaning over your body to kiss you. His strong abdomen flexing against your pregnant belly, releasing a deep groan against your lips - spilling his warm seed deep inside you. You could feel him twitching, aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body.

His body completely engulfed yours, not yet leaving from inside you. He nuzzled your forehead, peppering kisses against your jaw. A big hand caressing your stomach ever so carefully. "Konoronhkwa" he whispered. "I love you too" You smiled blissfully, drifting away in a peaceful and deep sleep.

#connor kenway #assassin's creed 3 #ratonhnhaké:ton #ac #i want my baby connor #connor kenway smut

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whispersxwhimpers · 9 months ago

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Mommy, what are some of your sfw interests? ☺️ (music, movies, shows, games, etc)

Music: I have a wide variety of favorite artists, so I'm just gonna list my top 25 on my spotify from the last 6 months 😂💕 Lucy Dacus, Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, Boygenius, Megan The Stallion, Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Lauren Sanderson, The Pretty Reckless, Renee Rapp, Doja Cat, PVRIS, Labrinth, OTEP, Tyler The Creator, AshNikko, Kendrick Lamar, BONES UK, Kent Osborne, Lana Del Rey, $uicideboy$, Hozier, CORPSE, Harry Styles, & SZA

Movies: Howls Moving Castle, Kikis Delivery Service, Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Corpse Bride, Coraline, Nightmare Before Christmas, Pokemon Movies, Lilo & Stitch movies, Lion King Movies, Harry Potter Movies, Batman Movies, Marvel Movies (my top 3 favorite MCU characters are Wanda/Scarlet Witch, Spiderman, and Deadpool), Suicide Squad Movies, Birds of Prey, The Scream Movies, Terrifier Movies, The Conjuring Movies, The Insidious Movies, Mean Girls (2004 & 2024), Fried Green Tomatoes, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Illusionist, and 50 First Dates

Shows: Euphoria, Haunting of Bly Manor, Stranger Things, You, Game Of Thrones, House of Dragon, Shameless, Wentworth, Bob's Burgers, Futurama, American Dad, Family Guy, The Simpsons, Avatar The Last Airbender, Adventure Time, Fiona & Cake, Batman The Animated Series, Powerpuff Girls (the classic one), Pokemon (Gen 1-4), and the original Teen Titans on CN. I also love anime! My favorites are Naruto, Demon Slayer, Death Note, and Inuyasha

Games: Naruto Games (Ultimate Ninja Storm series is my favorite), Pokemon Games (Gen 1-4, Pokemon Snap, and Pokemon Stadium are my favorites), Mario Games (Mario Kart & Mario Party are my favorites), Sonic Games (Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic Heroes, and Sonic Battle for GBA are my favorites), Kirby Games (Kirby Nightmare in Dream Land is my favorite), Super Smash Bros (Melee is my favorite), Kingdom Hearts (2 is my favorite), Life Is Strange (Before The Storm & 1 are my favorites), Tekken (3, 4, 7, & Tekken Tag are my favorites), Dead Island, Fortnite, Apex Legends, Minecraft, Sims (My Sims for DS & Sims 2 are my favorites) Jackbox Games, and Monster Prom/Camp. I also enjoy playing Cards Against Humanity, Blackjack/21, Uno, Mancala, and many board games!

If you'd like to know other interests and more, feel free to send me asks or message me! 🥰

#lesbian #wlw #sapphic #wlw nsft #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #lesbian sub #wlw sub #bd/sm mommy #bd/sm babygirl #wlw ns/fw #my asks #tv shows #movies #video games #games #interests

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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

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The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : eight

A bit of 18 and up, y’all.

“How do I keep winding up in your bed?”

You felt the mattress shift beneath you and then Walt’s smile pressing into the back of your shoulder, only one of your flimsy nighties in between your skin and his. One of his legs was tucked between yours and his hips were flush against you.

“Clearly I’m trying to corrupt you” he murmured against your skin, placing a kiss there.

“It isn’t corruption when it’s willing” you mumbled, shunting backwards into him.

He chuckled and grasped your waist with one strong hand to keep you from moving any more. His fingers dented the lace covering your warmth from his gaze and wandering hands.

“Let’s throw caution to the wind” he spoke low in your ear, causing you to shiver. “Will you marry me?”

You snorted out a laugh and wriggled around to face him, the early morning light spearing through the curtains casting a golden bloom across his features. His eyes glowed and his lips twitched a little in amusement as you stared, the bright morning painting him with a completely different light than you were used to.

“See something you like?” he asked teasingly, gently.

You lifted a slow hand to follow the play of light over his face, dancing across his eyelids as he closed them, shadowing his eyelashes and curving around the edges of his perfect mouth.

Walt made a faint noise of surprise when you leaned forward to kiss him, your lips barely bumping against his before you pulled back, biting your lip. He reached out to cup the back of your neck and drew you right back in, gentling your teeth away with his tongue.

When he pulled you over onto his hips, you planted your hands on his shoulders and pushed yourself away, cheeks already flushed pink.

“Don’t you have business to get to?” you asked, a little out of breath.

Walt shook his head at you.

“It’s the week of my wedding” he said, smiling a little sideways. “I took time off from business.”

You tilted your head to the side, thinking.

“Can I ask for something?” you asked quietly, pensive.

Walt nodded, sitting up against the pillows and jostling you a little.

“Anything and it’s yours” he said.

You shifted a bit and settled your hands on his chest, the fine hairs tickling your palms.

“I would like to watch you feed” you told him eventually.

His dark eyebrows rose quickly and his lips parted in surprise.

“That was not what I was expecting” he admitted, taken aback. “I thought you were going to ask for a new dress or something material. A new book? But no...”

You bit your lip again.

“It’s going to happen to me eventually” you reminded him. “I feel like I should know what I’m going to be doing.”

He reached for your hands and held them loosely.

“You will be a lot messier than me at first” he said solemnly. “It takes years to get the practice right.”

You smiled slightly.

“So what you’re telling me is that you make it look easy.”

He sniffed and rolled his eyes at you, but did not deny it.

“Are you sure you want to see that? At short notice, it will be someone you know, someone you’ve probably met during your stay here. And it will not be pretty, my love” he warned. “They will scream and run. It is predator and prey. And there is no better apex predator than I.”

You nodded.

“I understand” you replied. “I need to see.”

Walt sighed and nodded back.

“All right then” he agreed. “Tonight it is. But what shall we do to pass the time?”

You stretched languorously as he rolled you underneath him, his thumbs inching up the pale hem of your nightie.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, my lord” you murmured.

He groaned at the sound of his title in your mouth and rolled his hips down into yours.

“I’m sure I will” he replied, and bent to kiss you speechless.

As dusk crept in on the manor, the corridors darkened and the main servants vanished, aware that the master was on the hunt that night. Only one was left unawares and continued to meander from room to room, cleaning in the flickering light of candles.

You followed Walt at a distance as he tracked her, changing from feet on the floor to crawling across the walls and ceilings, a dull chittering sound emanating from his throat. It sent cold chills down your spine, but you knew he wasn’t after you, you were safe and always would be with him.

At last, the maid was herded, unbeknownst to her, into the study, the key left behind in the wall drawer. Walt had disappeared, so you opened the door yourself and moved inside quietly, shutting it behind you with nary a squeak. You edged around the room, keeping out of the maid’s candlelight, until you found your seat in Walt’s desk chair, your fingers pressing hard into the smooth arms.

Lifting your head to follow the soft scraping sounds of Walt moving across the ceiling, you could just barely make out the shape of him, a slightly darker shadow blending in with the others. And then he was right above the unsuspecting maid, who carried on cleaning unaware, music blasting through headphones.

He dropped, and you bit your tongue to keep from making a sound. The maid cried out in fear, but the noise quickly ceased as Walt sank his fang teeth into her throat. You leaned over the desk into the candlelight to see dark blood leak out from the two holes, what was missed by Walt’s insatiable mouth.

You stood up and walked toward them, the young woman limp in Walt’s arms as he held her against his chest, one hand angling her head. You moved even closer and were finally able to see his face; his features had altered slightly, become sharper, but you could still see him in his silver blue eyes. He watched you watching him as he finished his feed and the girl crumpled onto the carpet by his feet, drained. His tongue flicked out to clean a dark droplet from the corner of his mouth, his eyes trained on your face.

“Darling, I -”

He never got to finish. You rushed him suddenly, kissing him open mouthed. He moaned as he realised the copper taste of the maid’s blood would now be on your tongue.

Propriety be damned.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly @sky0401 @noirrose21-blog

#the invitation #walt de ville #walt de ville x reader #walter de ville x reader #liss writes

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shivunin · 2 years ago

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Winter's Grasp

In which Hawke takes unnecessary risks in Lowtown and Fenris tries to discern why; cross-posted to AO3 here

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 4,834 Words | Hurt/Comfort | CW: Blood, canon-typical violence)

Winter hung heavy over Kirkwall.

It did every single year, but today the cold fought Hawke’s steps and cut right through her robes. There wasn’t much to do about it now but bear it, so she tugged her scarf higher around her cheeks and bent her head against the wind that raced down the alleyways.

She did not, strictly speaking, have to patrol the city. She knew that. Aveline had been very clear: that’s what guardsmen were for, and Hawke was for being a rallying point, a light in the darkness—or something. Maria hadn’t really been listening; she’d been planning her route for the night instead.

Really—the intensity of the wind was the only thing she hadn’t planned for.

“C’mon, Miser,” she said, her voice muffled by the scarves, “One more alley and then we’ll go home. Promise.”

The mabari was coated with snow, such that he looked nearly shapeless against the backdrop of the snow. If the streets hadn’t been so dirty, the hound might be near-invisible. Instead, he looked like a pillow torn to shreds and given life.

A… chilling thought.

Hawke chuckled to herself at the thought and stuffed a loose curl back under her cap. If the others were here, she might share the joke—but they weren’t. They were probably all wisely snug inside their various homes and bolt-holes.

Just like she ought to be.

The two of them passed through the Lowtown market, which was full of people hunched against the cold. Most of the vendors had tucked haphazard braziers of some sort in the stalls behind them—sure to be at least one disastrous fire later—but Hawke couldn’t blame them. She passed more than one resident of Lowtown hesitantly pawning some bit of jewelry or moth-eaten scarf for firewood. When she thought she could do it unnoticed, Hawke surreptitiously dropped coins in their path. She knew exactly what she would have done if someone had offered her money for firewood when her family had been living here; better that they think they were taking advantage of some careless passerby.

In some ways, the weather was less brutal in the alleys. The close walls cut the sharpness of the wind, though the stillness of the cold that replaced it was no kindness and the rooftops wept brutally sharp icicles. Hawke was regarding the persistence of the cold with no small measure of irritation when a trio of thieves leapt from the rooftop and attacked.

After everything—the Deep Roads, the Arishok, and everything since—three thieves were nothing. She would have disposed of them handily if it hadn’t been for the reinforcements who showed up—and the reinforcements for the reinforcements—and by the time the fifteenth fighter raced down the alleyway toward her, Hawke was getting a bit winded.

Well—alright, winded, but also one of her hands was having trouble hanging onto her staff and poor Miser was limping badly. Perhaps Aveline had been right after all—it would be humiliating, wouldn’t it, to die in some frigid alleyway because she hadn’t wanted to trouble anyone for company? Because she’d been bored and feeling sorry for herself? Because the variety of naughty novels Isabela was always sneaking into the manor’s library had not been enough to satisfy Maria’s itchy feet?

The fifteenth fighter raised their sword high, the metal gleaming in the dim light that filtered through the clouds. This was it; Maria knew it with a dim sense of dread. There was nowhere to dodge and nowhere to run; when she reached for the Fade, her fingers grasped at magic as insubstantial as snowflakes in a hot bath. She would be carved in two from shoulder to hip and that would be that.

Only—at the very apex of the swing, a hand, glowing blue and humming with a familiar energy, thrust itself through his chest and stayed there until the man’s gasps turned to silence.

The wind howled down the alleyway.

Fenris, still just as poorly attired for the weather as ever, considered the limp body slumped against the wall. When he flicked blood and viscera from his gauntlet, the red slash of it looked almost festive against the paler snow piled against the alley walls.

“Come here often?” Hawke coughed, feeling for the wall until she could lean against it more firmly.

“Drink a potion,” Fenris snapped, nudging the body to the side and striding closer. He stopped beside Miser first, feeling carefully along the bloodied rear leg.

Hawke did as he said, fumbling for the vials at her belt, then pulling the cork with her teeth when her gloved hands couldn’t manage. The potion burned while it knit her back together, but the sensation was pleasant. Or— it was better than nothing, anyway, and her skin had long since started to go numb.

“I had—” she began, but he interrupted almost at once.

“You did not,” Fenris said crisply, “Have him. He would have cleaved you in half. Why didn’t you send for me? Or any of the others?”

Hawke grimaced behind the safety of her scarf and straightened stiffly from the wall. Fenris was slightly further along the alley, crouched beside Miser, who seemed more than happy to be tended to.

“Oh,” she said, “I find it quite attractive when you scold me. You should go on doing it.”

Even Maria, no matter how oblivious she pretended to be, could not have missed the furious green of his eye peering over his shoulder at her before he turned back to the hound.

“Hawke,” he snapped, a warning in his voice. She stumbled closer—because the health potion hadn’t quite managed to fix everything, but she couldn’t stomach another just yet—and slid down the wall so they were at eye level.

“It’s miserable out here. I didn’t want to drag you out into it; I know how you feel about the cold.”

Fenris muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath in Tevene and let go of Miser’s leg at last. He’d smoothed some poultice over it, green-smelling and thick, and poor Miser had stopped panting quite so hard.

“Good boy,” Hawke murmured, reaching for the mabari’s head and scratching his favorite spot behind one ear. The hound leaned into it, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

At long last, she sighed and looked at Fenris.

“I was feeling sorry for myself,” she said, “wandering the estate alone. Wanted to find some trouble. It’s been a quiet month; this seemed better than nothing.”

Fenris did not respond to this. He just went on looking at her.

“Yes, alright. It was stupid,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “But really—this is the fourth or fifth of these alleyways and I was doing just fine before that last bastard.”

“Hawke,” Fenris said, shaking his head, but when he rose he offered her a hand.

Hawke held on tightly and levered herself to her feet. Fenris didn’t step back when she straightened; instead, he lifted his other hand and traced the healing line of a wound along her cheek. His brows furrowed.

“You should have sent for me,” he said, in that deep voice that always made her stomach flip, “I would have come.”

“I know,” she said, leaning into his touch, “That’s why I didn’t call. I didn’t want you to have to follow me around in the cold because I was bored and spoiling for a fight.”

His eyes traced her face carefully, looking, she knew, for more injuries. He’d likely search her for more as soon as they were home, too; she was well aware that his penchant for drawing her baths was really an excuse to strip her naked and look for hidden hurts.

“Better in the cold with you than standing at your graveside without,” he said, though the words were somewhat softened by the undercurrent of worry in his tone.

“Ouch,” Maria said, frowning. Fenris lifted one shoulder, then turned toward the mouth of the alley, still holding her hand.

“Come,” he said, “We should get you home.”

“Alright,” she said, and followed where he led.

Hawke entered the estate with her usual attention to neatness and decorum—which was to say, she shed scarf, gloves, hat, and cloak in a messy line from the door to the stairs.

Miser snatched more than one garment from the air with delight despite his injuries, and deposited them in the box on the bench beside the door. The cloak, at least, Hawke tossed over the newel post before trudging up the stairs.

Fenris watched all of this with a rueful sort of affection, but he didn’t bother objecting. She’d long since pointed out that he had little room to speak about her neatness given the state of his manor. He couldn’t argue with that; but he also didn’t see the need to tell her or anyone else that the “body” in his foyer was, in fact, a practice dummy wearing robes he’d found in a trunk. The appearance of a rotting corpse by the doorway was, he’d found, an effective means of dissuading visitors. Why none of their friends had ever noticed that it neither stank nor decayed was beyond him.

“Something to say?” she asked from the top of the stairs, resting a hand at the generous swell of her hip. Fenris shook his head and began to follow her to the second floor, his fingertips brushing over the sodden wool of her cloak before tracing up the wooden railing.

“Must I repeat it?” he asked, “You already know what I would say, in any case.”

“Hawke,” she intoned, scowling fiercely, “I will never understand why you do not see fit to keep your home in order. It is simple enough to disrobe in one room.”

“I do not sound like that,” Fenris said, successfully preventing the smile from creeping up his face.

“Hawke,” Maria went on in the same voice, unsuccessfully preventing herself from smiling, “You slovenly creature. I have stubbed my toe on your staff for the last time! Fasta vass!”

“I certainly don’t sound like that,” Fenris told her, nearing the top of the stairs.

“Ah, my mistake,” she said in her normal voice, backing away and undoing her belt, “How about this?”

Hawke hung her belt on the doorknob behind her and turned it, stepping backward into her bedroom without once looking to see what might be inside.

“Hawke,” she said again, in her impression of his voice, “You ravishing creature. Your every move is like poetry, and the taste of you on my tongue is like the finest of wi—oomph!”

Fenris darted forward in a burst of speed and snatched her up in his arms, kicking the door shut behind him. Her belt jangled against the wood and gradually fell silent. Neither of them paid it any attention; Fenris was too busy pressing her carefully back against the wall and catching her mouth with his, and Hawke was too busy laughing in between his kisses.

“I should—tease you more—often,” she gasped when she finally stopped laughing.

Fenris grunted and nipped the skin at her jaw, his hands finding the ties along either side of her robes and undoing them easily. He had no interest in explaining that he wasn’t reacting to her teasing. The fervor in his touch was entirely due to the sight of her in that alleyway, pressed back against the wall while a greatsword descended toward her head. In that split second, Fenris had been able to see the aftermath all too clearly: the blood spilling from the joint of her neck, the white of bone pressing through her shoulder, the lifelessness in her eyes when her spirit finally left the body behind.

It mattered little that he’d prevented Hawke’s near-certain death; it only mattered that he almost hadn’t.

Hawke often laughed at him for the way he checked her over after battle. Fenris had never much minded her laughter, and he’d never felt the need to explain himself. Maria could laugh all she liked, so long as he could be assured that she wasn’t hiding some grievous injury from him. He knew her too well to think she wouldn't do just that to keep him from worrying; he’d seen her do it to any number of her friends on numerous occasions.

Now, Fenris ran a hand along the bare skin of her side, marking the sharp hiss of breath between her teeth when he touched her ribs; ah, a bruise there. Her sigh when the backs of his knuckles brushed against the curve of her breast was altogether different, soft and warm against his neck. Enjoyable as it was to hear, he ignored it for the moment in favor of undoing the clasp at her shoulder.

“Tell me there’s a bath,” she said as he pushed the sleeves down her arms and left the robe in a puddle on the floor.

“There is,” he told her, stepping back from the wall and walking her with him to the bathing room’s door, “It may yet be hot.”

“Remind me to give Orana a raise,” she told him, eyeing the clasps of his armor as they went.

“If you give her any more money a month, she will buy her own manor and leave you here to pick up after yourself,” Fenris told her absently, scanning the room before they stepped through the door.

Hawke shrugged and stopped beside the bathtub, which was, in fact, half-filled with steaming water. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Fenris busied himself with the ties to her smallclothes and Maria unwound the cloth of her breastband.

When at last she was entirely bare and she’d kicked the cloth away from the bath, Fenris raised a brow and took a step back. In response, Hawke rolled her eyes upward, sighed, and flicked her fingers. A little ball of golden light formed over her head, simultaneously illuminating and casting shadows over her naked skin, like an echo of the sun itself.

Ah; yes, that was a bruise forming over her right ribs. Already, it was purple in an angled line—some sort of staff strike, he thought, or the flat of a sword. She’d bent easily enough to remove her boots at the door, so it must not be a break. There—the blood drying down her left arm. From the amount of blood in her robes and down her arm, it must have been deep. When Fenris dipped his hand in the hot water and smoothed it over her skin, most of the blood washed away in trails of reddened water. The potion she’d taken must have sealed that wound first—which likely meant it had been among the worst of her injuries.

Best to check the rest in any case; one could never be too sure.

“Turn,” he told her, and Maria did so, sighing and shaking out her hair as she turned. Fenris shifted the mass of her hair over one shoulder, his fingers lingering in the curls and smoothing them away from her back. He would not be distracted by the constellations of freckles over her shoulders; he would remain focused until he was certain she was well enough for anything but a bath and sleep.

Fenris ran his hands down soft ridges down her back, then crouched to examine a series of bruises along her thigh. The marks dotted her leg from hip to knee, obscuring the ripples of silver that usually decorated this stretch of skin. Hawke made a soft noise when he touched the edge of one and Fenris drew his fingers away.

“How bad?” he asked. She looked at him over her shoulder, frowning.

“It’s fine, Fenris.”

“The marks beg to differ,” he said, “The hip—how bad?”

“Bruised,” she said stiffly, then sighed, “Alright. It’s a bone bruise—but it will be fine soon enough. I swear, you fuss like—”

“I fuss,” Fenris interrupted, standing, “Because you refuse to take care of yourself.”

Maria frowned and turned away.

Her woolen cap had mussed her curls; if left like this, they would be impossible to wash. Fenris pursed his lips at the back of her head and set about untangling them one by one, easing the knotted strands loose before running his fingers through them again carefully and thoroughly, from root to tip.

“I can take care of myself,” she said more quietly, and the ball of light over her head winked out, “You know that well enough by now—or you ought to.”

“In a fight? Yes,” he agreed, pressing his fingers firmly against the skin of her scalp until she sighed and leaned back against him, “But after? Hawke, you would fight on broken legs if you could find the means to balance. That you would win the fight does not alleviate the worries of those who care for you.”

Fenris cleared his throat and lay one last curl amongst the others, letting his hands settle on her shoulders instead of her hair.

“Perhaps you have not considered that it…may pain me to see you hurt. To know that you would not seek help if your wounds were grave.”

Hawke turned to look up at him, then looped her arms about his waist.

“What would help right now?” she asked, meeting his eyes, “My hip hurts and my ribs ache. You can smooth ointment over them when we’re done here. What else?”

“Take me with you,” he said at once, tracing the angle of her jaw, “Do not leave me behind next time.”

Maria made a face—the one that pressed her lower lip out and ought to have looked childish. It didn’t, though; it made her look sorrowful instead, as if the whole of the world had abandoned her. It was an act; he’d caught onto that particular performance almost at once, and now the expression only made him want to bite her bottom lip.

In fact—yes, that was a good idea.

Fenris dipped his head and indulged himself, taking the plump warmth of it between his teeth until she sighed and melted into him.

“Will you?” he asked after a moment, and kissed the skin just to the right of her mouth. Hawke shivered slightly; Fenris didn’t flatter himself by thinking her reaction was due to his touch alone. He could feel the bumps along her skin and knew all too well how cold it had been outside.

“Will I?” she asked, her eyes softly closed.

Fenris kissed each one of them with exquisite care.

“Bring me with you next time?” he said.

“Mmmhm,” she said, tilting her face toward his.

She couldn’t see him; Fenris smiled at her, shaking his head once, and set a kiss upon her lips. The contact was soft and brief and not nearly enough to satisfy—just as he’d intended.

“Promise me,” he told her, “If not me, then someone else. You know better than to fight alone.”

Hawke sighed and opened her eyes again.

“I promise,” she said, and paused, “But only if you climb into the bath with me tonight.”

He’d already intended to; but perhaps it would not do to tell her as much. Fenris frowned as if the idea galled him.

“Very well,” he said, “After you.”

Hawke grinned and rolled forward onto her toes to peck his cheek. She climbed into the bath without further complaint, but she didn’t relax against the angled back of the tub. Instead, she folded her arms on the edge and rested her chin there, watching him with open curiosity.

As if she’d never seen him undress before. As if it was still the first time.

Fenris huffed and removed his belt, then loosened the clasps of his breastplate along either rib and shoulder. She watched each step with interest, and her lips parted when he set his tunic aside at last.

“I do not understand,” he told her, untying the laces at the waistband of his leggings, “Why you always look at me like that.”

“Oh?” she said, tilting her head until her cheek rested against her arm and she was watching him sideways, “Perhaps I am your lover and I like the look of you. Maybe I am plotting something. Or—perhaps I find the world around me miraculous and full of wonder. I don’t know, Fenris, why do you think I still watch when you take your clothes off?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and climbed into the tub opposite her.

“You know what I meant. The…surprise.”

Hawke said nothing for a moment; only dipped her head backward into the water before leaning back against the angled side of the tub. For a moment, her eyes searched his.

“I suppose,” she said at last, “I may stop feeling like your presence here is a…a happy accident someday. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling yet.”

Fenris didn’t know what to say to that immediately; they did not often speak of the three years they’d spent apart, and he found he did not wish to do so tonight, either. He dipped his head back into the hot water instead, weighing his responses.

After he sat up, slicking his wet hair away from his forehead, Maria wetted her bottom lip and added:

“Is it so wrong? To think that you are beautiful?” a pause, “Do you…want me to stop watching you?”

“No,” he told her firmly, slicking his hair back from his forehead, “I do not. I…”

He took a deep breath, shifting the water around them, and sighed.

“Nevermind. You have done nothing wrong; let us leave it.”

There was no way to tell her it wasn’t the act itself he was questioning, but the manner with which she watched him. Amazed, yes, even surprised; but there was something in the back of her eyes, behind the happiness. That hidden thing—he supposed he might call it grief, if he had to name it at all.

What would make her grieve him even as they came together again?

“Alright,” Hawke said, and reached for the first of several ointments and balms she used on her hair, “Why were you in Lowtown, anyway?”

“Why do you think?” he asked, reaching for his own bottle of soap. He’d never asked her for it, but after he’d begun to spend more time at the manor Hawke had wordlessly produced his preferred scent and left it on the side of the bath he preferred.

Yet somehow it still baffled her that he disliked seeing her hurt.

“What tipped you off?” she asked, leaning back until her hair spread beneath the water, swirling and free without the weight of the air to hold it in place.

“I came to see you,” he told her, “Orana told me where you’d gone.”

“Did you come here for a particular reason, or did you just miss me?”

“Yes,” he said, and she raised a dark brow.

“Yes? Both?”

“Yes.”

“Do I get to know why, then, or do you mean to stick to single-syllable answers?”

“No,” Fenris said, and smiled faintly at the outraged expression on her face, “I came to make sure you ate something, and perhaps to read together for a time.”

“Oh!” she said, surprise crossing her face and chagrin hard on its heels, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that. I would have stayed, if I’d known.”

“Hmm,” Fenris said, “Well. It is fortunate that I found you when I did.”

“I feel fortunate whenever you find me,” she said, yawning.

Fenris chose to let the comment pass, and watched as she finished her extensive hair routine. When she was finally done, her eyes heavy, he rose dripping from the tub and reached for a towel. He didn’t think to glance at her again until he stepped onto the tile and wrapped the towel around his waist—and when he did, he saw it again.

Grief in her eyes, tucked behind the affection and the exhaustion. Fenris crouched next to her to look more closely and she tilted her head to follow him.

“That,” he said, “That is what I mean. What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hawke said, but her lips pressed hard together after she spoke.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at her.

“Truly, I…” she sighed, “It is nothing worth speaking aloud, in any case.”

She stood then, reaching for her own towel and wrapping it tightly around herself. Fenris rose and held out a hand for her, which she took as she stepped from water to floor.

“Hawke—” he began, but she shook her head.

“Leave it,” she said, “Please.”

Fenris pursed his lips, but nodded and let go as soon as she was solidly on her feet.

When she’d reached the bed, he found the ointment in her desk and climbed onto the mattress at her side.

“Ribs and hip,” he said, unscrewing the cap and setting it aside with care, “Anywhere else?”

“No,” she said after a moment.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, and nothing more.

“My shoulder still aches,” she said, “But it’s nothing to—really, Fenris, I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm,” he said, already rubbing the ointment into her shoulder. Hawke sighed and settled onto her folded arm. The ointment tingled over the tattoos on his fingers, imbued with magic as it was, but it was little more than a faint irritation.

After a moment, she rolled onto her other side so he could treat the bruise on her hip. That was when she spoke, facing away from him as his fingers smoothed the green salve over the worst of the bruise.

“Fenris?”

“Yes?”

The bruise was worst just above the bone. Fenris rubbed the salve in there, fingers careful and gentle, before gathering more and smoothing it over the line of bruising that extended halfway to her knee.

“I…Kirkwall is my home,” she said, and when he glanced at her face he saw that her eyes were closed, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. But it…it has taken almost everything from me.”

Fenris waited in silence, gathering more salve on his fingertips and finding the next set of bruises, red-purple and swinging over the swell of her backside.

“I…thought if all I had was things, it wouldn’t be so bad to lose them. I’ve lost everything before, you know, in Lothering. I could manage it well enough if it happened again. But with everything happening lately, and you…”

Maria took a deep breath, as if to say more, but let it all out in a rush instead.

“Nevermind,” she said, “Nevermind. You’re right. It’s all foolishness.”

Fenris finished with the salve, watching the firelight glisten along the line of it. She looked gilded when she lay like this, the line of her bare skin lit by the sconces and the hearth behind them. In the beginning, she’d seemed impossible to him; like a painting of a woman given life but not sense.

He knew better now—despite her insistence on taking ridiculous risks.

So instead of letting it lie, Fenris screwed the lid on her salve again and spoke.

“I am not going anywhere,” he said, watching his hands on the lid, “No one can make me leave but you.”

She shifted on the bed before him, set a hand on his knee.

“Fenris,” she said, and nothing more.

“Do you believe me?”

Hawke’s eyes were dark and deep; easy to get lost in, he’d often thought. In that moment, he saw nothing but warmth and worry there.

“Yes,” she said at last, “Yes. I do.”

“Good,” he said firmly, and her hand fell away when he rose to return the salve to its drawer.

He pulled on the linen trousers folded neatly at the bottom of her armoire and tossed one of her tunics in her direction. As she unwound the drying cloth from her hair, Hawke spoke.

“About reading,” she said, “Would you still consider it if I fed you?”

Fenris, who’d turned away to pull on a tunic that’d been folded with the trousers, smiled faintly while she could not see him.

“Perhaps,” he told her when he turned, “If you will allow me to stay for the night. Your room his warmer than mine.”

Hawke’s eyes gleamed, and her wide mouth spread in a smile.

“I think,” she said, “That can be arranged.”

When he woke in the night to her murmured “don’t go, don’t go,” it was Fenris’s hands that shook Hawke awake. It was his neck she hid her face in until she fell asleep again, and it was in his arms that she woke when dawn crept through the window.

Neither of them discussed this over breakfast. What would be the point?

But Hawke never again wandered through Kirkwall without at least one of her friends nearby—and it was a rare day that Fenris was not at her side.

#maria hawke #hawke #fenris #fenris dragon age #fenhawke #fenris x hawke #my writing #da2 #da fanfic #hurt/comfort #valiantly made myself wait two whole days to post this so i could give it a proper edit #it has been such a gloomy week and i've been thinking about winter and loneliness etc #i listened to regina spektor's 'sellers of flowers' the other day and it felt so hawke to me #and here we are #shivunin scrivening

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