#I wish I'd known about this my whole life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-eclectic-wonderer · 4 months ago

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I always think about how in multiple episodes it's basically canon that Blanche is bi but considers dating women to be more hassle (which is a whole rabbit hole to go down - does she struggle with societal homophobia when she's with women? Has she only been with fellow high maintenance femmes when shes really after a Dorothy type? Has she internalized the idea that her attraction to women isn't 'real'? Her reaction to Clayton adds to these questions). Not to mention how this goes together with her relationships with the girls; making to kiss Rose that one time (and Rose multiple times seeming very aware of Blanche's proclivities), begging Dorothy for 'relief' and being convinced she's attracted to women too.

Yes, anon! It’s really interesting to delve into Blanche’s psyche about all this stuff!

I started writing down my thoughts and ended up with a long ramble -- allow me to place it all under a cut, so I don't clog up anyone's dash, haha.

Personally, I think she has some strong mental blocks when it comes to her sexuality because of the way she was brought up. I mean, she grew up in Atlanta approx in the 1930s/1940s — I’m sure I don’t have to detail the kind of casual bigotry she must have seen around her during her formative years! Just look at the story she recounts in S1E13 A Little Romance:

“Now, you have to understand that in those days in the South a lot of things were still taboo. Certain people were not to mix. So Benjamin and I had to meet in secret. Oh, we knew if any of the bigots in town found out about us, there’d be a terrible scandal.”

And all of this because Benjamin was a yankee… can you imagine what ‘the bigots in town’ thought about homosexuality? Yeah, I’m pretty sure Blanche learned to suppress that part of herself very early on. We know she turns to denial when she’s faced with uncomfortable truths and emotions she can’t deal with, so I think she likely just refuses to acknowledge that part of herself most of the time, and it only comes out (pun intended!) when she’s not paying much attention to things, or when there’s something more important going on. See the two examples you point out: when she tries to kiss Rose she’s concerned with not being kissed at midnight, and when she propositions Dorothy she’s, well… she’s desperate to get some, if we can be frank.

When she’s in a more rational state, her reactions tend to be more measured… but not by much. She does advise Rose not to date women (S3E10 The Audit):

“Oh, no, honey, don’t do that! No job is worth having to date women!”

But she’s also really flattered at receiving lots and lots of phone calls from women, after her appearance as a ‘lesbian’ on TV (S7E15 Goodbye, Mr Gordon):

“By the way, Dorothy, if I were a lesbian, I sure would be a popular one. Look at this, 20 calls.”

And of course we can’t forget her reaction to finding out that Jean has a crush on Rose in S2E5 Isn’t It Romantic?:

“Jean has the hots for Rose? I don’t believe it, I do not believe it! […] To think Jean would prefer Rose over me? That’s ridiculous! […] Now you tell me the truth: if you had to pick between Rose and me, who would you pick? Who?”

All of these are (likely) intended to be jokes about her vanity and her libertine nature (in the same way as Rose’s observations are), but considering a lot of the writers of this show were queer themselves, it wouldn’t seem strange to me if they were intentionally peppered in to suggest that Blanche might be a bisexual in denial. It certainly fits her character!

I haven’t spoken about her reaction to Clayton’s coming out yet, but that’s immensely interesting too, of course. I think Blanche has the same attitude towards homosexuality that I see in a lot of (mostly older) people in my Country nowadays: it’s fine as a general concept, but when it comes to her family (or, God forbid, herself) then the problems come out. See for example what she says about Jean:

“Well, I’ll never understand what Jean doesn’t see in the opposite sex, but if that makes her happy, that’s fine by me!”

Which isn’t a homophobic attitude at all! If anything, if you take her upbringing into account, it’s pretty accepting. But then, when Clayton comes out to her (S4E9 Scared Straight) and tells her he wants to get married (S6E14 Sister Of The Bride), this is what she says:

“Oh, Clayton, please be serious. You're just saying that so I won't set you up with any more women. […] Well, then you're saying it 'cause you're trying to get back at me for something. Clay, I know you too well for this. After all, I know it can't be true. You're my brother. […] Clayton Hollingsworth. You look me in the face and tell me you really are… what you just said you are.”

“I'm having a little trouble putting this all together. Clayton, I just feel like I don't know you anymore.”

“[…] Dorothy, that's different. We're talking about going out in public. Oh, what are people gonna say?”

“Will you tell me why you want to put yourself and Doug through this? You know how people can be.”

“Oh, look, I can accept the fact that he's gay, but why does he have to slip a ring on this guy's finger so the whole world will know?”

Quite the difference from her attitude towards Jean, wouldn’t you say? I think there’s three elements at play here.

1) When Clayton comes out to Blanche, she feels disoriented because this is life-changing information Clayton has never shared with her before. While her reaction as a whole isn’t ideal, personally I think it’s understandable. Clayton is her baby brother; she’s known him as straight all his life, he’s been married to a woman for years before his divorce, and she recounts an episode from their adolescence when he was on a date with a woman and very clearly implicated having a physical encounter with her. He's done everything in his power to pass as straight until this point in time -- I don't find it strange that Blanche would be shocked at his coming out, especially given her upbringing (and the fact that this is set in the 80s! We can't expect modern sensibilities from the characters!). Once again, her reaction isn't the best (she can't even bring herself to say the word 'gay' at first...), but the shock per se isn't that surprising, imho.

2) Blanche is scared because of societal implications above all. She doesn't necessarily see being queer as something wrong, but she's been taught it's not socially acceptable and acts accordingly. Notice how she's worried about what people are going to say, and she struggles to accept that Clayton wants the whole world to know about his relationship with Doug.

Societal expectations in general are a big theme for Blanche's character, and often drive her development; another big example of this is her attitude towards Rebecca's decision to get artificially inseminated, but it's a bit of a baseline issue for her, I feel. She has this whole thing about her beauty and her (supposed) youth and her attractiveness that has some inherent elements, but it's mostly an issue of how other people perceive her, I think, and her response to her brother's coming out is easy to relate to this theme. I mean, she even says it to Rose in S7E15:

"Well, I don't mind being labeled a lesbian, honey, but since I'm not, you just ruined my social life."

So yeah. I think it's safe to say her main concern is societal disapproval of queerness: she wants to be accepted and celebrated by the people around her, and she thinks that being openly queer will destroy her place in her social circle (and she's worried about the same happening to Clayton too, of course).

3) This is sort of related to point 2, but it felt distinct enough to treat it separately. I think she might have reacted so badly to Clayton's coming out (and especially to his showing up with a partner) because he's open about his sexuality, and she's not ready to face what that means for her. My lovely mutual @\hecatesbroom recently published her latest amazing work the odd one(s) out, on the relationship between Dorothy and her brother Phil and how Phil's open queerness might have impacted Dorothy; I think a similar situation might have occurred between Blanche and Clayton after his coming out.

Blanche has a sort of advantage on Dorothy because of her bisexuality, in the sense that she has 'passing privilege' (I really dislike this concept, but allow me to use it to make a point): it's painfully clear that she loved her late husband with all her heart, and she's obviously attracted to men as well, so she can pretend not to like women without too much of a hassle (whereas, if you believe Dorothy to be a repressed lesbian, her situation is much more complicated).

The issue with this is that this 'advantage' is a double-edged sword: she might have the comfort of being socially acceptable, but she's had to suffocate a big part of herself to obtain that comfort. And so, what happens when Clayton -- her baby brother Clayton, the one who's always been just like her, who's grown up with her same environment and influences -- begins openly living as a gay man? I'm sure the situation must have had a strong impact on her, even if just on a subconscious level; I've always found it curious that she seems to have a harder time accepting Clayton in S6E14 than she does in S4E9 (she even calls his sexuality a phase), and while a part of it may be attributed to the higher social exposure Clayton's commitment to Doug brings, I think this may be a result of her inner conflict, provoked by watching her brother live openly while she's been suppressing a part of herself all her life.

Here I'm assuming she's never acted upon her attraction to women before, but there's some space to believe she has done so and has decided it's too much of a hassle, as you say -- likely because she'd for sure do it in secret, given her fear of societal condemnation. If she has been with women before, and decided to give up on it, I still think she'd be greatly impacted by Clayton's coming out: it means her baby brother is a) braver than she is, and b) going to openly face (and likely suffer because of) the same social issues she's run away from. In this lens, I find it interesting that she cautions him about how people can be, almost as if they've both experienced it.

Whew. Wow, this was a lot more than I'd originally meant to write, haha! Seems you sparked a big train of thought, anon! I think all of the Girls (with the possible exception of Sophia) are really fascinating to analyze with a queer lens, and Blanche is always interesting to me, of course. As a final note, I'd like to point out that she does come around to Clayton's sexuality and his relationship, in the end: as often happens, she just needs the Girls' help to put things back in perspective, understand she's hurting someone she loves, and correct her actions. I'd like to think living with the Girls might lead to her becoming more accepting of herself, too.

#this was so much fun!! you helped me pass the time on about two and a half hours of train rides anon :)#this is... Long lmao. but are we surprised? i always end up talking at length #and this subject is Very interesting to me for obvious reasons so...#there's a lot more that could be said i think. all her homoerotic moments with the girls?#dancing with rose? playing pretend with dorothy?#and all the times sophia jokes about them? 'you couldn't stay in the closet for one more day'?#all fascinating stuff no matter how you look at it #i really think her homophobia stems from societal expectations honestly. she *never* expresses the opinion that being gay is wrong per se #she doesn't think it's unnatural or against god or anything like that. the worst thing she says is that 'phase' comment imho #she thinks it's *socially unacceptable*. which is a whole different thing #and considering blanche's whole thing with being accepted by society i feel like a queer in denial storyline really fits her character #like. think of even just this:#blanche devereaux. known for being libertine and unashamed of her sexuality (to the point of being labelled 'a slut').#often described as 'selfish' and 'self-centered'. focused on satisfying her desires and wishes at all times #this woman? having to deny a part of said desires for her entire life? the contrast is DELICIOUS to me #this big fear of societal disapproval was the angle i went with for my blanche/rose fic! it was set at the end of s2 #so this was really all i could explore. but it would have been fun to throw clayton into the mix #i really think seeing him be so open about himself had a profound effect on her #oh look at me rambling in the tags too haha. excellent observations anon! thank you for sending this ask!#if you have any more thoughts i'd love to read them!!#oh and also -- when does blanche say she thinks dorothy's attracted to women?#i don't remember it and i'm *very* curious about it #the golden girls #blanche devereaux #golden wives #ask

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lizard-dumbass · 2 years ago

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Guess who finally found out they have athlemaphobia lol

#lizard-dumbass talks about stuff #text post #its me i have athlemaphobia #honestly though im kind of thrilled about this discovery because now i finally understand and have a way to explain my anxiety regarding #sports #oh btw athlemaphobia is the fear of sports/participating in sports #i always knew that sports stressed me out to high hell but only today did i finally discover that what ive been experiencing is an actual #fear of sports and that it has a name #reading about athlemaphobia has helped me undestand this aspect of myself in a whole new light #im really happy to have found this term but oh BOY do i wish i had known about athlemaphobia sooner #knowing i have a genuine phobia of sports would have helped me so fucking much in 8th grade P.E #between half and two thirds of my secondary school p.e has brought me some of the most stressful sports experiences that ive ever had #if i had been able to explain to my teachers that i have a phobia that makes participating in sports anxiety inducing to the point of tears #then i probably would have been able to avoid some of the stress i ended up having to go through #idk i guess this all seems kind of silly but my fear of sports has genuinely been a huge pain in my ass for the majority of my life #i'd even go as far as to say it has had a really negative impact on my life #but nevertheless im still happy i found out about athlemaphobia #because now i have a way to explain my sports related anxiety to people and also take the right steps to manage/treat my phobia #so yay :3

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finniestoncrane · 7 months ago

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Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months ago

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Leaving VI

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your schedules don't match

You love Alexia.

You were only little when your father died. You didn't quite understand it.

Your father was a football fan, a big Barcelona supporter so all of his daughters got taken to games with him.

Alba was never that into sports, even just watching them.

Alexia was definitely sporty. You think she was what your father really wanted. She plays football and she adores it.

Your father was already sick by the time you were born. He was already struggling but he still took you to matches. It didn't click with you like it did with Alexia but he could still some athletic speck in you.

He took you to a tennis match instead. He'd never had much interest in tennis but he seemed to know what would appeal to you. You were tiny and Mama had been worried that you wouldn't be able to sit through a match.

But you did.

You sat through a whole match and fell in love then and there.

You were still little though and your father was still sick but he took you to as many lessons as he could.

He was a football fan but he could learn tennis for you.

He never could in the end, not when he died so suddenly.

But then Alexia took over. She didn't understand tennis and she still doesn't understand but she took you to every lesson and went to every match.

You just wish she understood the difference in your schedules.

She was getting ready for another round of Euro qualifiers even though Spain had already qualified. You were at Wimbledon, trading shots with Iga on the practice courts.

"Have you called your sister yet?" She asks, sitting down next to you as you guzzle down your water.

You roll your eyes. "In a minute."

"Do it now."

"What are you? One of my sisters?"

You're teasing her.

Iga is the world number one, by a lot of points. You sit just outside of the top ten. It's a little annoying, your own inconsistency. You can pull it out of the bag during big matches like Grand Slams but you suffer a bit in some of the less grand tournaments.

You're officially the youngest player this tour so you know you're getting babied by some of the other players, Iga especially.

You hadn't thought she had even known who you were until your coach told you she was the one who pushed him to take you on.

She thought you were on your way to being one of the greats.

She also thought you would make a great doubles partner one day.

It was different moving to Poland, away from your Mama and your sisters but Iga made it easy.

She was easy-going and you practically lived at her place so, yeah, you guess she took the more sisterly role in your life with Alexia and Alba at home in Spain.

"Go and call your sister," Iga laughs, spraying you with her bottle until you shriek and run off," And grab me a protein bar or something!"

You roll your eyes but head off, pulling out your phone to video call your sister.

It rings for barely a second.

"Hi Jenni," You say," Can you give Alexia back her phone? I need to talk to her."

"You don't want to talk to me, mini Putellas? I'm offended!"

"If I wanted to talk to you, I'd have called you!"

Jenni laughs before Alexia appears on screen, snatching the phone away from her ex.

"How are you?" Alexia asks, cramming her face onto the screen.

"I'm good!" You laugh," You look good too. Covered in sweat."

"You can talk," Alexia teases back," Have you just had a workout?"

"Practice pitch with Iga," You say," We've got matches coming up."

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean?"

"We've got matches in the next few days. It's Wimbledon, remember?"

Alexia shakes her head. "No. That was last year."

"It happens every year, Ale," You remind her," Me and Iga are competing and then it's a quick turnaround for the Olympics."

Alexia's frowning. "No, because I've got a match on the twelfth. You're flying out with Mama and Alba."

"The Wimbledon final is on the thirteenth. I need to stay."

"What?"

"Iga's out and I've got a real chance. I could really do it."

"But...What about my match?"

"What about mine?" You counter with a sigh," Ale, our schedules just don't match this time. I'm sorry."

"But..."

It's clear to the other girls in the room that Alexia's getting a bit distressed as her mouth opens and closes as she tries to formulate a response.

"But..."

"Listen, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Hey, wait-"

You put the phone down and Alexia just stares down at it, frozen as she looks at your profile picture.

"What's up with the long face?" Jenni pokes her in the cheek. "You're more frowny than usual."

"Nothing. I just...My sister can't come to the game."

"Well, duh, Alexia. She's got Wimbledon to win. She can't just fly out to us."

"I know but..." She blows out all her air. "Never mind. I'm just...I'm gonna go."

When you were little, Alexia tried to go to as many of your matches as she could manage. Sometimes she would come straight from her own games, still in full kit to catch your last ten minutes or so.

It was difficult but it worked.

You've gone professional now and branched out, travelling the world to take part in tournaments and games so you can work your way up and become the world number one.

She shouldn't be upset about you missing her match and her missing yours because that's just how sports work. So many went on at the same time that it was impossible to make every match but, still, a deep pit forms in Alexia's stomach as she thinks about missing your final.

Across the world, you prepare.

You practice on the courts with Iga and your coach. You eat well. You sleep well. You watch Alexia's match on the tv and wish you could be there but Alexia's no longer the only athlete in the family.

She had her career and you have yours.

Paolini is who you face in the final and she keeps you on your toes the entire time. She hits hard and fast and you go one set down immediately.

You pull it back though, managing to equalise the next set and then it's all to play for.

You take a few gasping breaths as you guzzle down your water, leaning back in your seat.

You look up at your box, where your family is watching.

Mama is there, of course, and so is Alba. Alba looks incredibly bored. You know she only comes to the tennis because of you and you're glad she's trying to be supportive but she truly looks like she's about to fall asleep in her seat.

Mama looks much more engaged. She'd told you once that she preferred the pace of tennis to football. There was less risk of injuries in tennis, no one around to slide tackle you or crash into you.

The most harm your opponent could do was smash a ball into your face and that rarely happened. Sure, you could slip and fall but it's not like footballers didn't do that too.

Out of the two sports her daughters played, Mama always found herself calmer at the tennis.

Mama waves at you and nudges Alba in the ribs so she can look up from her phone to wave too.

Your brows draw together in confusion.

There's an empty seat between them and you can't understand why.

So, you just kind of stare as you puzzle out who could be sitting there.

It's not until she comes back, with two beers and a hotdog that you realise who is filling that seat.

She looks exhausted. You can tell even through those stupid big sunglasses and the even stupider hat she's wearing.

She must have gone straight from her match to the airport to get here in time and crashed in Mama and Alba's room to keep it all a secret.

So, Alexia sits in her seat and you grab your racket.

You've got a set to win.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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mcflymemes · 8 months ago

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PROMPTS FOR THINGS FRIENDS SAY TO EACH OTHER * assorted dialogue for a multitude of friendly and platonic conversations and situations ranging from soft to dramatic, adjust as necessary

of course i love you. you're my best friend.

i really couldn't do this without you.

did you just call me your best friend?

that's what friends are for.

if you know me so well, what's my favorite color?

remember when they mistook us for siblings?

you're the only person i've ever trusted.

i know i can count on you for anything.

do you approve of them?

there's nothing i wouldn't do for you.

if something was wrong, i would tell you.

i can tell when you're lying.

okay, now tell me the truth this time.

i'm not leaving you behind.

i don't know what i'd do if i lost you.

let's not fight like that again.

i always knew you would accomplish amazing things.

that wasn't fair of me to say to you.

i'm sorry i upset you.

i know everything about you.

maybe we should go someplace fun.

will you be in my wedding?

we've been friends for years. you think i didn't know?

i figured you'd tell me when you were ready.

you called me your best friend.

if it matters that much to you, we'll do it.

i just want you to be happy above all else.

you deserve a whole lot better, you know.

i wish you could see yourself the way i see you.

you've always been there for me, no matter what.

i'd risk my life to save you.

we need a girls trip.

i know you better than you know yourself.

you don't think i can tell when you're lying?

you can't get anything past me.

as your best friend, i have to step in.

that's wrong, and you know it.

i love you, but not in that way.

we need to get out of here. just us.

you mean the world to me.

you deserve better than the way they treat you.

i think i have a right to express my honest opinion when it comes to my best friend.

the only way we survive this is if we work together.

you trust me, don't you?

we could sit for hours in silence, and i'd still love the time we spent together because it was with you.

i can tell you anything, and you won't judge me.

maybe we should take a trip together, just us.

i'm so happy for you and the life you've created.

you know me so well.

one day we'll end up in rocking chairs on a porch together, complaining about everything.

you're like a sister to me.

you're like a brother to me.

you're practically family at this point.

if you asked me to help you hide a body, i would.

no one messes with my best friend.

excuse me, but i'm your best friend. i think i have a right to know.

i've known you all my life.

i hate it when we fight.

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myownwholewildworld · 10 days ago

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faber est suae quisque fortunae (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: marcus would die for you. literally. a/n: this is a drabble from a whole story i didn't think i'd write into a fic but maybe i should?? idk c': comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! <3 warnings: kissing, an unhealthy dose of angst. that's it really. w/c: 579 (a baby)

“You shouldn’t be here, Carissima (dearest),” Marcus’ coarse voice was just but an inaudible whisper, his dry, chipped lips moving against yours.

His warm, wounded hands cradled your face, his thumbs swiping the salty tears falling from your tired, reddened eyes. A sob tore through your throat, unable to control the fountain of mixed feelings boiling inside you, giving way to desperation.

You were certain you were about to lose him. The man who had stood by your side through thick and thin in the last few months; the only shoulder you had allowed yourself to cry on. The rock who had kept you afloat since the death of your husband, no matter how treacherous the ocean of your emotions was. Marcus had been the only true constant for the past year of your life; the only person you could rely on and bring you comfort. The only one you would trust.

And because of that, because of his loyalty and devotion to you, he was going to die a traitor. Long forgotten were his sacrifices for the Roman Empire — his whole life committed to serving Rome, his own son slaughtered to quench the thirst of Rome. None of it had mattered.

Your father, Emperor Traianus, would have his head before he could have your hand. In your father’s eyes, Marcus had betrayed his trust, having been accused of treason. Traianus had even ventured to say Marcus had killed your late husband so he could have you. Nonsense, for you knew the truth.

You nuzzled your cheek against the palm of his calloused hand and kissed the rough skin, hugging him tighter. Only leaned back slightly to study his handsome, beaten face. A split eyebrow, a bloodstain on the white of his left eye, a broken bottom lip — your fingertips traced the map of his skin, guilt engulfing you.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus. Had I known this was how it all would unfold—” your throat clamped, your lungs exhaling all air within them in a painful wail.

“I would have done nothing different, my lady. Nothing,” he emphasized, his fingers cupping your chin to tilt your head up. “I made my choice and made my peace with it too. None of this is your fault.”

Tears sprung again to your eyes as Marcus leaned forward to press a heartfelt kiss to your forehead, his soothing touch lingering for a few seconds before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks — leaving a love trail on your skin down to your trembling lips. His mouth ghosted over yours before he pecked your bottom lip asking for permission.

Sinking your fingers in the nape of his neck, you kissed him as if your life depended on it — perhaps because it did. You sought his tongue, his sweet taste soon flooding your senses. He tasted of longing, of love, of missed opportunities, of goodbye.

But not of regret. Never of regret.

“Tomorrow I’ll die, however I won’t be giving my life for Rome but for you. There’s no better death than that. Rome has taken enough from me, won’t take my last dying breath too,” Marcus muttered, his lips pressed against your ear. “My last breath is only yours.”

Bowing your head down, you buried your tear-ridden face in the filthy tunic covering his chest.

How badly you wished it wasn’t true. But it would be, because you both had been the artisans of your own fortune.

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weaselle · 8 months ago

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RECOVERY

I spent a lot of my life depressed without admitting it to myself and then i spent a year so depressed i could hardly make myself do the bare minimum to keep my body alive, and now it's about 3 years since i got up from that lowest point and while i am still struggling with myself things are objectively a lot better.

and i just want to put a couple things i've learned, both to remind myself of how far i've come, and in case any of what i've experienced helps anyone else.

You can't run from the darkness

When you're super depressed it's easy to focus on how much you don't want to be depressed. When everything is darkness you tend to wish you could escape that darkness.

but you can't. The darkness is all around you. You can't run away from it without running deeper into it.

instead, follow the light.

don't think of it as escaping depression, think of it as seeking joy. Don't run away from the darkness, walk toward any lights you can see.

At first it will be very small things. The taste of a food. The way your favorite color looks. A smell you like. For me one of the first things i could find to remind me of joy was the way a warm shower feels.

I would just stand in the shower and lean into the tiny, tiny joy of that feeling. I would describe it to myself, how it felt good, what about it felt good. It didn't cure me, it didn't make me less depressed, but it was a little point of joy to focus on, to breathe into like a tiny candle flame in my darkness.

I would memorize that feeling, so that later, when i felt like nothing ever brought me joy anymore, i could think, no, that's your depression lying to you, you felt joy, however small, right there in the shower just yesterday. And, maybe there is more somewhere else.

Even today, it's been a hard week, i'm feeling a lot of hopeless and helpless feelings clamoring away at me, but... i have spicy soup. And spicy soup is a NEW joy. I found spicy soup joy as i was following any little light i could out of the deepest part of my depression.

I never put hot sauce in soup before then. But today i am drinking the broth of a very spicy soup and as much as everything else is complicated and difficult and scary and dark, there is a bright mote of joy in this sip of spicy soup. And in the next one. And the next. I enjoy it, i love it, all the more that it is new, and if i had given up four years ago, i never would have known this small joy, this new favorite tiny thing.

Who knows what other little joys i may find?

If you have come to a place in life where you have lost the knowledge of how to feel joy, it is important to remember that feeling joy is like anything else in life. The more you practice, the better you get, the more of it you can do at higher levels.

And there are only so many minutes in the day. The more of them you spend acknowledging what feels good, the less of them will be left for feeling bad.

you can't escape the darkness by fleeing from it, but you can find the light by moving toward it.

Chop Wood Fetch Water

Another thing i learned was a truth about the exercise advice you always hear.

For where i am in my recovery now, common exercise has very little impact. I don't really get the endorphins people talk about, and i don't tend to feel better about myself after i work out unless i already feel pretty okay about myself to begin with. i don't mean to say there is no point in me exercising, but, i walk about ten miles a day holding onto 8 energetic dogs and i do a fair amount of lifting and bending and stuff for my job, and it's fine but it's not, like, doing a whole lot for me at this point in my recovery (tho i do think more recreational exercise will come back into play a stage or two on in my healing process)

HOWEVER

There was a year there where i was only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. When i was only able to force myself to eat just enough each day to stay alive because i'd made a promise to myself, and that promise was almost all i had left.

and the right kind of exercise is what pulled me out of that.

the RIGHT kind.

See, someone close to me needed help with a physical job. That was an important part and why this method is known historically as some variation of Chop Wood Carry Water -- it's intensely physical, which is important, but also, it helps the people around you. These days our personal communities tend to not need wood copped and water carried the same way. But you can get the same effect helping someone move all their furniture, doing all the yard work for your friends and/or family, volunteering for a charity that builds housing for homeless people, SOMEthing physically taxing that helps people.

In my case, my aging father needed help re-shingling the roof. So i promised i'd help.

So i got up every morning because he was expecting me. And i climbed the ladder because he would see me if i didn't. And i lifted and carried and hammered and worked hard. It took a week of six to eight hour days.

Right away, the fact that it was helping someone else made it not matter so much that it didn't feel like it was helping me at first. I couldn't deny that i was doing something good, that my existence had positive meaning, however small.

But very soon, it changed something fundamental in my state of depression. You can't do physical labor in the sun 7 hours a day without drinking a bunch of water. Without working up an appetite. Without getting very tired at the end of the day.

See, i had been struggling to make myself drink enough water, i was fighting to make myself eat even one small meal's worth of food each day, and i couldn't get a good night's sleep to save my life. And these things all made my depression much much worse. You think you get sad or angry from skipping a meal, consider being chronically undernourished. You think your mental state is worse after pulling an all nighter, think about what never getting a good night's sleep does.

But a couple days into this job with my father, and suddenly i was hydrated, i was eating full meals, and i was sleeping soundly at night.

THAT is what pulled me out of that deepest part of my depression.

So in a way, it was exercise that saved me. But not how people often say "have you tried exercising?" More like pushing myself physically to the point that my body demanded the things that previously i couldn't get it to want for itself.

Instead of forcing myself to eat i was craving food. Instead of staying up to all hours and then tossing and turning, i was physically exhausted and slept early and hard. (and, weirdly, being physically exhausted was somehow a relief from being emotionally/mentally exhausted)

Lastly

Healing often isn't noticeable while you're doing it

"healing is a process" is something you hear a lot, but i think it's more helpful to say something like

"Healing is like growing your hair out from short to long. You can look in the mirror every day and not notice it happening. And even when you can tell for sure it's longer than it was, you still can't really do anything with it, and it may seem pointless. But then one day you can tie it back in a ponytail and you realize how much it's grown and how many options are open to you now and you're really glad you stuck with it"

Now excuse me while i go meditate on the joys of my remaining spicy soup.

#long post #my life #idk maybe this will help someone #depression

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goblin-king-jay · 19 days ago

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"I missed you so much. Everyone did the right thing. If I had your family, I'd be there too. And I think that going back to Chicago and playing basketball can see you serving everybody, and I get that, and I'm just trying to find somebody to serve. And it's really hard because sometimes I feel really stupid because... I think about 'family on six' a lot. And I wish that I had known to take that as it was meant, which was as a profound kindness, and not something that was literally gonna be true... (sighs) It doesn't make sense to have a treehouse with a sports room and a demon room. That's not part of the same... there's no category that has those, that has 'demons' and 'sports' as the two instances in the category. So maybe we were never going to have a life -- or maybe I just missed my shot. Maybe, you know -- I thought for a second, I was like, maybe Jammer's family's going to adopt me... for three months until I'm 18. Maybe you can squeeze a whole childhood into three months, and this family that has no idea who I am... (sighs) I--I just had a lot of dreams that didn't make sense. And I--I was talking to Sam about it, but it's just that life, and the shape of life is so fucking strong, and if there's not a space for you -- if there's not a little taped off place for you to go, then it doesn't matter how anyone feels 'cause you need a place, not just... kindness."

#ouch my heart #brennan always punching us in the feels with these big monologues #mismag #mismag 2 #misfits and magic 2 #misfits and magic spoilers #mismag spoilers #evan kelmp #brennan lee mulligan #bleem #dimension 20 #d20 #d20 mismag #dropout #dropout tv #dropout.tv

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y13evie · 1 year ago

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Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

#house md x reader #house md #robert chase x reader #robert chase #robert chase x you #house m.d.#house m.d. x reader #reqs open #i love robert chase #he’s so baby girl i love him #this idea is so cute anon

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infernalwitxhcraft · 2 years ago

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All About: House Spirits

Well, it's about time I brought them up once again, in their own post. This guide may be on the lengthy side, but it's here to explain what they are and how to begin working with them.

What the hell is a house spirit?

House spirits come from all different cultures and folklore. Known as, you guessed it, guardians of the home. They protect the house itself, the land around it (they get along with the land spirit(s) most of the time), and they also protect the family if treated right. A home certainly doesn't feel like one without these presiding spirits helping. In fact it gives the home a life of it's own.

What do they look like? Are there types?

Across many cultures, there are these spirits and the folklore varies for each. In my tribe, we consider them to usually be little dwarves or goblins that must be appeased, otherwise they will cause bad luck or even resort to curses. Regular offerings are required. Then there are the land spirits, which is a whole other topic. If given regular offerings and respect, we believe that they will not only generate good luck and events for us, but protect us and help with our daily lives. For the witches of the tribe, they will often assist in rituals and spells. That all being said, this has carried over into my personal beliefs. Many cultures describe house spirits assisting with the same things and if they are displeased, bad occurrences following. As far as looks go, it depends on the folklore surrounding your area and your cultural background(s). You may believe in one or two types or an entire spectrum of house spirits from the realm of the fair folk. You could have one house spirit or twelve. It's entirely up to your home. In some cultures, there are door spirits (yes, that guard the doors) and ones that work in the kitchen, among others for different functions of the home.

Okay so, I live in an apartment building. Can I still work with them?

Yes. When I used to live in apartments, I found it was an either/or situation regarding how many were there. Some buildings have only a few that roam around, sometimes only one that protects the entire building, or there may be multiple hanging out in one apartment. Most complexes have multiple however. And then for the lucky buildings that have one for each apartment...those are nice. I've included a short offering ritual at the end of this post, which you can use to ask questions about whatever you wish to know, including how many there are in the building.

What kind of offerings do they like?

Milk, honey, bread, and herbs are a safe bet. They especially like bread baked by you, as they see it as a labor of love and that your energy is in there. Taking time to tend to the garden and taking care of your property & home in general are things they like to see. Don't leave the house a huge mess, as many prefer a tidy atmosphere. Not an offering per say, but important to mention nonetheless.

What should I put on their altar?

I keep my altar for them in the kitchen, as it is in a place that is undisturbed and can't be torn up by my land shark (aka, my dog). I also feel that most of the house spirits I have worked with in my life enjoy hanging out in this area of the home. They seem to like assisting in kitchen magic and cooking in general and the warmth of the stove. You may also want to include a small area near the front door if you believe that there are separate spirits for there. I'd recommend a shelf, as it won't take up as much space in the entryway.

Okay, back on track. Plants (if the space gets enough light), a cauldron, candles, offering bowls, a chalice, glass, or mug of some sort. A special spoon to stir the drinks or potions with. Decorative pieces from nature. Things you craft by hand.

How can I begin working with them?

Anytime, in reality. However, you do have to develop an actual relationship with them. This can take time and the more you speak to them, give offerings, and invite them in as you cook or clean, the more they will be willing to help with your spellwork, wards, and healing. Try the introduction ritual I've included. See what happens. Document it. Try again another time the following week. And just...keep going. Make sure that they know you haven't forgotten about them by leaving a small nightly glass of milk out before you head to bed. It doesn't have to be filled to the rim (hey, cost of living is ridiculous right now). It can be a splash with a squirt of honey added. Or a sprinkle of herbs on their bowl. Or maybe a small helping of what you whipped up for dinner. Point is to show them that you acknowledge and respect their presence. That will be the biggest component. Do the ritual once a week until you start seeing signs of contact. Once you do, make your own ritual with them. Incorporate them into your daily life. Ask them to help with blessing your cooking. Ask them to make sure your wards are in tact. Ask the door spirit to purify the energy of anyone that walks in & make bad people resist coming by. Start seeing if they'd like to sit in on a ritual, if you feel comfortable with that idea. Ask for a blessing when you clean the house & to assist you in removing all the bad energy.

Brief introductory ritual

To introduce yourself to your house spirits, I recommend sitting in your kitchen. If you consider your hearth to be the living room, you can choose to do it there. Make sure to bring offerings with that you feel will be applicable. Freshly baked bread (from your own hands) and some milk with honey stirred in would make a wonderful first treat. I usually introduce myself in a new home by bringing these treats to the location of choice, and start by speaking my intention aloud which goes something like:

"Spirits of the home,

Guardians and Protectors of this dwelling,

Please come sit with me and enjoy these offerings.

I wish to have a working relationship where we can honor, respect, and help each other."

I usually spend about ten-twenty minutes meditating after this is spoken aloud. Sometimes you will feel a strong presence. This is the time I take to set up my kitchen altar as well. If there is a place that I am able to create a mini-altar by the front door, I do so there for the door spirits. The land spirits get their own little thing out in the backyard. I've found in the many places I've lived, they almost always work together and some house spirits spend quite some time out there too!

From here on out, you'll develop your relationship with regular offerings and take it from there!

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #green witch #house spirits #hearth witch #kitchen witch #faery folk #beginner witch #witchy guide

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brackenfur · 8 months ago

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okay so i kind of.......wrote a lot more than i really intended to, but long story short - years ago i had this headcanon/au of sorts that birchpaw/fall saw ashfur and hawkfrost at the lake together, standing over firestar. mostly because when you squint at that whole sequence it kinda doesnt add up in canon, but its not canon that birchfall saw anything - it's just me taking this what if scenario and expanding on a side character

anyways this was kinda a quick project so its not perfect buuuuuut i wrote something so ! enjoy :)

birchpaw is back at camp doing everything he can to avoid the worried looks of his clanmates when his mentor stops him.

"hey, birchpaw," the fur on the back of birchpaw's neck stands up, and he slowly turns to the other tomcat. "are you okay?"

birchpaw does the best he can to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he answers: "i'm fine, ashfur. really. i- uh, i mean, i really just wish i had...been faster, that i had..."

he can't look at ashfur's face. not now, maybe not ever again. he knows that as soon as he meets his eyes, he won't be able to stop asking questions:

what were you doing with a riverclan cat? why didn't you help firestar? did the other cat threaten you? did you-

"you did the best you could, birchpaw," ashfur tells him gently; he pauses, flicking his tail-tip, before murmuring: "come on, let's go over to the apprentice's den to talk. i can tell you're shaken up."

and you're not, birchpaw wants to say, but he's a coward. this is his uncle, his mother's twin, and he doesn't really know what he saw, anyways. maybe ashfur had been standing there, sure. and maybe firestar had been clearly injured, clearly dying - well, ashfur isn't a medicine cat. he couldn't have known that, even if birchpaw had been making a lucky guess. but maybe hawkfrost threatened him, or maybe he lied to him-

you don't believe that at all, he thinks.

but he follows his uncle all the same to the apprentice's den; whitepaw is comforting her father at the medicine cat den while leafpool treats firestar's wound. no one is around - they're all either out searching the territory to make sure hawkfrost didn't have any accomplices, or with firestar's family on the other side of camp.

"you did the best you could to get help as soon as possible, birchpaw," ashfur tells him softly; birchpaw is staring at the grass between his paws, not looking at the other tom. "everyone knows that. i'm sure firestar does, too."

"right."

"but i could scent your fear-scent," ashfur continues, "and it does seem like you didn't go straight back to camp after telling firestar about blackstar. why?"

birchpaw's whiskers quiver. he shouldn't be scared - if anything, ashfur should be worried. he's the one who didn't do enough to help.

but the look in ashfur's eyes. the blank, distant stare as he watched firestar gurgle at his paws.

even the badgers didn't look at sootfur like that after they killed him, birchpaw remembers.

"i....," birchpaw's voice wobbles. "i thought i scented another cat, and i was worried," he clears his throat, trying to stop the shakes, "about you. i thought- i thought maybe you were...in trouble, and i...."

ashfur is quiet for a long time; if birchpaw wasn't so scared - why should i be scared? he's my uncle and my mentor, he wouldn't....he'd never.... - he'd look up, joke with him. pretend like it's all a big joke.

but those eyes. that look. the sounds firestar was making.

"so you didn't go straight back to camp," ashfur says with a disappointed sigh, "and firestar lost a life."

birchpaw's heartbeat skips. his paws shake. "wait," he says, his voice becoming shrill. he doesn't want anyone else to hear, but- what ashfur's saying, it's not...that's not right. that's not how it went. "wait, i- i did go back, as fast as i could, and i told squirrelflight-"

"you waited to tell her, you mean," ashfur tells him, frowning. "and he lost a life because he lost too much blood."

"but i didn't....i'd never..."

"it probably wasn't your intention," ashfur murmurs. "but that's how it happened. what if it was his last life? firestar and i trusted you to do one simple task, and you couldn't do that. you can't even look your uncle in the eye when he's talking to you."

birchpaw quivers as he slowly lifts his eyes to look into his uncles. ashfur's dark blue eyes stare back at him, just as emotionless as they did hours before.

"that's better," ashfur tells him, but it doesn't feel better. all of this is wrong.

"i was just trying to help," birchpaw whispers. "i didn't....i saw..."

"what did you see?" ashfur asks him, with a tone that birchpaw's never heard him use before: it's low, angry.

it's terrifying.

"um," birchpaw stutters. "i don't- i don't know. i don't know what i saw."

i saw you. i saw you and hawkfrost.

"if you don't even know what you saw," ashfur says slowly, "then maybe you shouldn't say anything. not to me, or to your mother. not to firestar."

birchpaw slowly lowers his gaze. how did today end up like this?

"you didn't see anything out there, birchpaw," ashfur continues. "you're an apprentice - you don't know your left paw from your right paw."

"okay."

ashfur stares at him for a long moment, sighing. "i'm not trying to scare you, birchpaw," he murmurs, "but i don't want you to get in trouble for firestar losing his life. sometimes we make mistakes; i don't want this one to be the defining moment of your apprenticehood."

shame burns through birchpaw - shame that he can't stand up to his uncle and tell him that this is all wrong.

but more shame that there's a part of him, deep down, that knows ashfur is right. if birchpaw had been quick enough, firestar wouldn't have lost a life. hawkfrost would've been stopped quicker.

and maybe....maybe ashfur was just trying to help firestar. maybe in some way, he's embarrassed because he couldn't help him, either. is that what this is about? trying to save face, because brambleclaw once again saved the day when ashfur couldn't?

"i want to be a good apprentice."

"and i'll help you do that," ashfur tells him, his voice becoming warmer. "and we'll start by making sure that today stays behind us, forever. okay?"

"okay."

it doesn't feel okay.

the rest of his apprenticeship goes by largely uneventfully. ashfur isn't exactly the same as before he and squirrelflight drifted apart, but he never speaks to birchpaw the way that he did the day firestar was injured.

he becomes a warrior by the name of birchfall. he makes friends, falls into an easy routine. he even still spends time with his uncle - with each passing day, the events from that afternoon become a faded memory. sometimes it plays out differently in his mind - there's days where he thinks he did see ashfur try and help firestar. where he heard him tell hawkfrost to go away.

(and maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought it was back then if the memory keeps changing. if it really was so awful, wouldn't it be the same? was he just trying to make ashfur out to be a bad cat?)

everything in thunderclan is mostly calm, until ashfur gets lionpaw as an apprentice.

he's heard cats joke about being jealous when their old mentor gets another apprentice - how it's weird, seeing the cat who taught you everything teaching someone else the same things, telling the same jokes.

he's still ashfur's nephew, so he knows that his former mentor still holds a special place in his heart for him - but it's not exactly that jealousy that other cats talk about that he feels towards lionpaw.

he feels...strange, seeing them together; there's this weird fluttering feeling he gets when he catches ashfur's expression as lionpaw walks away from him.

sometimes he can hear a voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to go and get between the two of them. to protect lionpaw.

but ashfur....well, it's ashfur. outside of that one afternoon moons before, he's a normal warrior. he wouldn't...

so birchfall does what he did over a year prior; he buries the feelings. he can't trust his eyes - that's what ashfur told him before. he doesn't know his left paw from his right paw.

(except that he's a warrior now, and a damn good one, so why-)

that changes one day, when the talk of thunderclan is how lionpaw and ashfur got into this huge fight - claws drawn, teeth bared. ashfur scratched up pretty badly, spiderleg had told him, shaking his head.

i knew that was going to happen, he's not a medicine cat or particularly gifted, but he knew. he knew, he knew, he knew, he knew.

i knew he was going to hurt him, birchfall watches as lionpaw trudges into camp, surprisingly fine physcially - ashfur is the one with the injuries, blood dripping on the camp floor as he trudges to leafpool's den.

lionpaw is standing there after all is said and done, after cats talk to him to ask him if he's okay. standing there in the center of camp, alone.

birchfall is only foxlengths from him, watching, and the thought slips into his mind easily: i should tell him that i know what ashfur is really like. that i saw the same look in his eyes that he probably saw. that he watched firestar die inches from his paws and did nothing to help him.

he almost does it, too. the memories from that day come back, flooding his vision - ashfur's dark expression. the white flash of hawkfrost's teeth. firestar's gurgles.

i'm so sorry, firestar.

"why are you staring at me?"

birchfall snaps out of it quickly; lionpaw is staring at him, amber eyes narrowed.

"what?" birchfall blinks. "i wasn't staring at you."

"yeah, you were," lionpaw tells him, shaking his head. "weirdo." lionpaw hisses under his breath.

and before birchfall can say anything, do anything, hollypaw and cinderpaw bound up to him to talk to him, stealing the moment away.

birchfall watches the apprentices for a couple more seconds before he turns away.

he didn't see anything that day. it's his fault that firestar lost a life, anyways. that's all anyone would be able to see - firestar is one pawstep closer to being gone forever because of him.

birchfall keeps his word for the moons to come; lionblaze becomes a warrior with hollyleaf and cinderheart. whitewing - his longest friend, the molly who withheld her warrior ceremony for him, just so he wouldn't be alone,

(and was there for him on the nights when all he dreamt of was the lakeshore, never asking him what woke him up shaking)

well, they become closer and closer until they're not really just friends anymore, and one morning she bounds up to him to tell him that she's carrying his kits. that leafpool had just told her moments before, and she couldn't wait to find him.

and it finally feels like maybe birchfall is at peace - maybe starclan isn't angry with him after all. maybe that one thing that birchfall didn't do years ago - it'll be okay. firestar is alive and happy, with grandchildren now.

the fire rages through thunderclan not long after, but thankfully there's no casualities - he grew up hearing the stories of the one from years ago, back in the old territory before he was born, and he's glad that everyone was okay this time.

well.

he heard berrynose say that everyone had been looking for squirrelflight, her kits, and ashfur for awhile - that ashfur had turned up, laughing. he wouldn't say what was so funny, though.

he didn't think much of it, until he saw the way ashfur was acting after the fire. the way he leered after squirrelflight and her kits; hollyleaf's eyes glaring back in defiance, lionblaze's hackles raised, jayfeather's avoidance.

i don't want any part in this, he thinks, focusing on whitewing and their future together. i didn't see anything. i don't know anything. ashfur isn't dangerous.

he repeats the mantra more often than he'd like; at night, he dreams of the lakeshore for the first time in years and wakes up shuddering against spiderleg's side. his older brother shakes him off, confused, but birchfall can't meet his gaze, or anyone elses.

i didn't see anything. i didn't see anything. i didn't-

and then just like that, one day ashfur is found dead on their territory.

someone said that a patrol found him in a river, throat torn out.

it doesn't feel real to birchfall until he sees his uncles body laid out in the center of camp, with ferncloud's muzzle pressed into his fur.

that's my uncle, he thinks as he watches spiderleg lead icepaw and foxpaw to their mother, trying to comfort her. he was my mentor.

you don't know what you saw. it's ashfur's voice, clear as day in his mind as he watches his clanmates gather around the tomcat. you don't know your left paw from your right paw. you're just an apprentice; how can anyone trust you after what you did?

firestar walks over to ferncloud and dustpelt, murmuring a few kind words to them. birchfall can hear his leader's voice carrying over the wind, mentioning something about dogs, about bravery.

he watched you lose a life, birchfall wants to scream, but he can't move. he stood there and watched you gargle for breath and did nothing.

birchfall shuts his eyes. no. no, it was because of me, because i decided to take too long to go back to camp, his mind can't decide what's right or wrong. it's my fault, that's what....that's what ashfur says, and...and now he's dead, so....

"birchfall," whitewing's voice is soft; he jolts, eyes wide as he looks at his mate. she leans against him, whiskers drooping. "this is so sad. i mean....ashfur, i just- i just talked to him yesterday. he was asking me about the kits, if i was feeling okay..."

you wouldn't want to be with me if you knew what i did, ashfur had never threatened him after that day, but birchfall knew that was what his uncle was conveying to him every time they talked after that day. that he could tell everyone, and everyone would know it was birchfall's fault that firestar lost a life.

or....or wait, maybe that wasn't right. not anymore.

maybe he should blame himself for not saying anything all these years. he could've told firestar and had ashfur punished, and he didn't.

the realization burns deep in his chest; he can barely register what whitewing is saying.

ashfur knew that if you said something, any cat could probably figure out that something about his story didn't add up, birchfall thinks, his heart thudding. and you were just too stupid to realize you could have said something years ago.

"birchfall?" whitewing says, frowning. "hey, birchfall. are you okay?"

birchfall's fur raises. "i'm okay," he tells her, taking a deep breath. "all things....you know, considering, i..." he shakes his head. "i'm gonna get some air, okay?"

whitewing touches her nose to his. "i'm here, you know that, right? i've been here for you since we were 'paws."

that stings more. i could have told you years ago, birchfall touches his nose back to hers, and turns away. i can't say anything now. she'd never trust me again, i kept this secret from everyone because i was too scared of my uncle. and now he's dead, and now....

birchfall resigns himself not to think about it anymore. he can't.

he can't. he won't.

after his daughters are born, birchfall wants this to be his new purpose in life.

forget about the lakeshore. the foxtrap. hawkfrost. ashfur. firestar is fine now; thunderclan is fine. sure, maybe there's been some earth-shattering secrets that have been revealed, but- all in all, they're mostly fine.

ivypaw and dovepaw mean the world to him; he can't imagine being without them.

he looks at them and wants to do right by them; they'll never know the fear he's carried for all this time, the same.

he'll teach them to say something if they see something; to be outspoken, brave.

but he can barely keep his head above water; it started when he met a cat from the dark forest one night. who promised him that he could make up for the mistake he made years ago; that he could do right by firestar. by thunderclan.

he trains every night but it doesn't make the shame go away. it won't scrub off after he bathes himself. nothing works.

it's not until the wall is lifted over his eyes - after his daughter, ivypool, a warrior grown - tells him what the true intention of the dark forest was.

all the moons he spent there, training, trying to prove that he could make up for what he did - gone.

and after the battle with the dark forest, both his mother and firestar are dead - killed by the cats that birchfall wanted to impress. wanted to show that he could be better, that he could be stronger.

how did everything go so wrong? he thinks as he watches his father crouched over his mother. dustpelt won't even look at him; he doesn't know about firestar, but he knows about the dark forest. and he hates him - despises him for training with the cats who are responsible for ferncloud's death.

he's right.

"birchfall," whitewing's voice jolts him out of his thoughts. "please. i want to talk."

it was inevitable - he knows that it's over between them at this point. he follows her out of camp regardless, deep into the territory. there's birds in the trees, chirping quietly amongst themselves, and everything is in bloom, yet nothing is beautiful to him at this moment.

whitewing turns to face him, her green eyes sad. "can you just tell me why?"

birchfal looks down at his paws, just like he did years before when ashfur told him to keep quiet.

"i'm sorry," he tells her, and she scoffs.

"i'm sorry isn't an explanation," she meows. "just....why, birchfall? why would you train with cats like that? and why- our daughter was there too, why wouldn't you try and convince her not to? what's wrong with you?"

i'm a coward.

"that's still not an answer," he hadn't realized he said it aloud. he finally looks up at his mate - probably soon to be ex-mate. "you need to talk to me. you're not a 'paw anymore."

and for some reason that burns more than anything else.

you're not a 'paw. you should have said something. you should have told everyone what you saw. and you didn't. it's your fault. all your fault. everything-

"i need to tell you something," he finally says; the story is bubbling at the surface. ashfur is long dead. firestar is dead. his family hates him. whitewing is going to leave him anyway; what else does he have to lose? brambleclaw might exile him, might not; he might not care what birchfall does.

whitewing is silent; birchfall opens and shuts his mouth a few times, trying to find the words, until he meows:

"i saw what happened to firestar on the lakeshore, that day when hawkfrost from riverclan died."

whitewing frowns; she looks taken aback, and blinks a few times.

"i....ashfur...he told me that he scented blackstar on our territory," the memory comes back hazy at first, but starts to clear as he goes on: "he said to tell firestar about it. i did, but....a few minutes later when i was heading back, i could scent another cat. and i remembered ashfur was out there, and i was worried for him, so i followed him and the other cat so i could protect him. and..."

the gurgling. the look on ashfur's eyes. the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

"ashfur was standing with hawkfrost over firestar's body. he was caught in the foxtrap and....ashfur, he...." birchfall shuts his eyes. "you should've seen how he looked. he didn't care at all that firestar was dying. i ran away, i didn't....i didn't know what to do. i thought maybe i didn't see anything at all, so i just told squirrelflight what ashfur had said about blackstar when i saw her. i thought....i thought maybe if she caught ashfur and hawkfrost, it'd....she'd know what to do, more than i would....."

birchfall stares at his paws. "when i got back to camp and brambleclaw had killed hawkfrost, ashfur told me....he said i didn't see anything, and it was easier to pretend i didn't see anything. and he was...he was right - i should've just gone back to camp right away. i should've just done the right thing, not been a stupid 'paw. i should've...it's my fault that firestar lost a life. he'd still be here right now if i just had listened back then, 'cus he'd have an extra life, and..."

birchfall trails off, shaking. "so that's...that's why i wanted to train at the dark forest. because i let firestar down. because i didn't say anything all these years, and i should've....i mean, what if ashfur had hurt someone else? and i just sat there and let it happen."

it takes him a moment after everything spills out to realize that whitewing is very quiet; he finally looks up at his mate.

she looks so sad watching him; and there's a bit of anger in there, too.

"he threatened you?" whitewing finally says; birchfall winces.

"i don't....maybe, it doesn't really matter."

"you were his apprentice and his nephew," whitewing tells him firmly. "of course it matters. he knew he was manipulating you, and that you just wanted to please him, so you'd do anything to make sure you wouldn't make trouble."

whitewing's tail lashes, and she shakes his head. "that- i can't believe he did that to you, that he made you think...."

"whitewing, it's-"

"it's not your fault, birchfall," her voice is gentle, yet he can tell she's holding back so much rage, rage for ashfur, pain for firestar's death. "if you really think for one second that you have anything to do with firestar laying in that clearing right now, you're completely wrong. that was tigerstar, first of all, and ashfur's fault years ago."

"but-"

"you went to help your mentor, and you were intimidated into keeping this a secret," she tells him, stepping closer. "and now you think that because you didn't say anything, that that's worse than what he did."

"i should have said something," birchfall tells her, harsher than he means to. "i mean - for starclan's sake, whitewing, i- i saw, and i didn't do anything. i'm no better than he is-"

"you are twice the cat that ashfur was," whitewing meows firmly. "and if i had even....if i saw him right now, i'd slash his ears for doing that to you."

whitewing shakes her head, looking at him. "all these years," she whispers, frowning, "all these years, and we- when you were in the apprentices den, having nightmares..."

"you couldn't have known," he mumbles. "i didn't tell you."

"and then....birchfall, i..." she presses her noses into his neck; birchfall is stiff from shock.

"i thought you were breaking up with me," he tells her, aghast; whitewing sucks in a breath, pulling away.

"what?"

"why not? after the dark forest, all of this...."

"i'm disappointed in you for training with the dark forest," she tells him softly. "but your mother is dead, and you....you've been holding this in for years, birchfall. i can put off asking you about the dark forest for awhile; i.....i didn't know. all these years, and i had no idea you were punishing yourself for ashfur's crimes."

when she puts it like that, a small - a tiny one, really, nothing huge - light begins to flick in his mind.

i've been punishing myself, he thinks, and it strangely makes a lot of sense - thinking about the lake all these years has felt like punishment. refusing to get close to firestar out of shame was his way of punishing himself, telling himself what he did was wrong.

"i don't know if i can tell anyone else," birchfall tells her in a whisper; whitewing nods, brushing her muzzle against his.

"that's okay," she meows, "because now i know, and now i can shoulder it with you."

"it's not a very romantic secret." he doesn't say it like a joke, but she still smiles a little.

"it's not," she shrugs. "but no one helped birchpaw back then; i'm here for you now."

#i ended it a little abruptly cus i just needed to finish it lolll #wc #shark noises #if it doesnt necessarily flow well im sorry its just a quick project

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