#I'm shocked tumblr can even handle whatever I'm trying to do here

[carolinanadeau]

In Praise of Sally Ann Howes

As I've made it one of the purposes of my blog to share photos and songs and general positivity about the wonderful English actress Sally Ann Howes, I thought I'd make a post to talk in much more detail about all the great things about her and why I adore her so much!

This classy English beauty possessed a highly expressive face and eyes, an astonishingly powerful soprano, a great sense of humor, and the world's most charming laugh. One thing I cannot stop saying about Sally Ann is that she did not and does not get nearly enough credit and recognition for her immense talent and prolific career, and it's precisely for that reason that I'm here to do my part in giving it to her!

This overlong rambling post is a combination of biographical information and my personal fawning over her performances... whatever I felt I most wanted to put out there in the world and what I'd like people less familiar with her to know.

Click on Keep Reading and I'll take you on a journey!

As she preferred to work on the stage and didn't really pursue a film career, the catalog of Sally Ann's work that can still be viewed today is unfortunately small - though you can find almost all of her early films on the internet if you look hard! In her early film days, mostly made before she was able to pursue her true passion of musical theatre, her extraordinary singing talents weren't utilized by the producers at all.

However, we were fortunately blessed with exactly one musical film role from her, and it's an iconic one: the aptly-named role of Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), the golden-haired, golden-hearted candy heiress who falls in love with and eventually marries Dick van Dyke's character Caractacus Potts after joining him and his children on a madcap adventure. She's a sweet, intelligent ingenue with hidden depths and one of my favorite sorts of character arcs - the uptight, lonely woman who becomes more and more warm and open as she discovers newfound freedom and joy in life and falls in love.

There is something about Sally Ann that just glows in every scene of Chitty, and it's not only that bright blonde hair! The way she widens her eyes sometimes, the way she raises her eyebrows, her gentle and soft presence in the happiest scenes, and the particular airy lilt she has to her speaking voice are all so distinctive and appealing, and I can't take my eyes off her. And her smile! When I say she glows it's barely even a metaphor, the woman just emits light. 

(Funnily enough, I started to realize that many of the laudatory quotes I've found about her also refer to her in this way, like this quote from a 1965 TV Guide article, from playwright Sidney Kingsley: "She's luminous as an actress. I mean that literally. In Brigadoon she really lit up the stage.")

For me, I'm weak for any actress who can do the defrosted-ice-queen trope so incredibly well. Truly starts out as closed-off and prim, and nearly reverts to that state when she and Caractacus have a Big Misunderstanding near the end, but in the scenes where she's happy and carefree, the warmth just radiates off of her.

She also has the most adorable chemistry with Dick van Dyke in an annoyances-to-friends-to-lovers relationship that absolutely shaped my young brain. Whenever Sally Ann and Dick glance at each other, whether with irritation and frustration early in the film or with warmth and affection later on, their chemistry is obvious and natural, and there's so much expressed in each one of those glances. One has no difficulty believing that these characters are going to be very happily married.

(Here's a cute on-set interview where she talks about, among other things, how easily she and van Dyke clicked.)

While I acknowledge that the character of Caractacus Potts was absolutely originally planned to be an actual Englishman, Dick van Dyke played him with an American accent, and to me they will always be an adorable English-American couple. It's a whole part of the charm of this pairing to me!

Sally Ann also had a great relationship with child actors Adrian Hall and Heather Ripley who played Jeremy and Jemima Potts, and did her best to help make them more comfortable and happy during the many very long days on set. Having been a child film star herself, she knew a great deal about how difficult and alienating it could be. The genuine affection the three of them shared is obvious in their scenes together, especially in the extremely adorable "Truly Scrumptious" number, and it really makes the developing mother-child relationship between the characters so believable.

The beach scene, where so much of the relationship between Truly and Caractacus and the Potts children is developed, is incredibly cute and heartwarming, and a lot of that rides on Sally Ann's performance and how her previously prim-and-proper character shows herself to be warm and loving, once she (literally) lets her hair down. We've already seen how happy the Potts family is together; now we see how Truly fits in perfectly and makes them all even happier.

Look at her! Literally glowing!

(One thing I should mention: I think both the plot and the love story of CCBB are greatly improved if one just treats the "dream sequence" as real events, which was possibly the original intention anyway, so just note that is always the perspective I'm coming from here. It's the only way to make some things make sense and for the characters and their relationships to fully develop.)

"Lovely, Lonely Man" is Truly's big solo moment, and was probably the least comprehensible part of the movie to me as a kid (lol), but is now indisputably one of the very best parts to me as an adult. It's an exquisitely beautiful love song, especially the bridge, and I somehow love it more and more every time I rewatch it. Sally Ann's dreamy, graceful movements and the way the whole scene is shot make her look like a princess, and the slow build of the song is masterfully done. She has this distinctive crisp way of articulating her words while singing, especially the closing consonants like N and M, that I just love to listen to. The string section and the building countermelodies are so beautiful it makes me want to weep. Everyone involved in creating this scene and song deserved an award, I'm being so serious. While it's not the highest of soprano songs and doesn't fully show off Sally Ann's astonishing range, she shows an incredible amount of vocal control here through the many diminuendos and crescendos, and she's mesmerizing to watch and listen to. One of her "glowiest" scenes, for sure!

While I've seen people call this song irrelevant to the plot, I strongly disagree - the romance is part of the plot, of course, and while I didn't fully understand the meaning as a kid, this song establishes how much Truly's outlook on life and hopes for the future have already changed since meeting Caractacus, and how much happier she is with the poor Potts family than she's ever been in her life of luxury. Plus, now we know for certain that she's head over heels for Caractacus, but he doesn't know... increasing the dramatic irony of the pining and yearning to follow!

In the reprise of "Hushabye Mountain", which was sung in a much earlier scene by Dick van Dyke alone, Caractacus loses the will to continue the song because he's overwhelmed with emotion thinking of his children being held captive. Truly comes in to aid him with the final verse - another pivotal moment in the developing romance - and Sally Ann's singing here is nothing short of breathtaking.

And of course, I can't neglect to mention the "Doll on a Music Box" number, where Sally Ann, who was not a trained dancer and in fact considered herself to be "appalling" at it, performs an incredibly precise, incredibly impressive clockwork song-and-dance number while on a spinning turntable! She practiced it so well that she managed to successfully complete the shot in a single take, prompting the stage full of extras to burst into applause.

This is another important character moment for Truly, though it's disguised in a diegetic performance: though it's another thing that went over my head as a child who only got to see the movie once, the lyrics about being trapped up on a music box and longing to be freed by love pretty clearly symbolize how trapped the real Truly's high-society life makes her feel, and how she yearns to break free from class restrictions and live happily-ever-after with Caractacus, as it's only with him and his family that she really feels free.

Then there's that incredibly warm romantic look that Truly and Caractacus share at the end of the song when she silently acknowledges the love confession he's just made while singing in counterpoint with her, though they're still in a dangerous situation and can't give themselves away by appearing too human and breaking their disguises... sadly this vital moment is cut off on all the Youtube videos of the scene I can find, because none of the people who clipped it understand that that's the whole point of it all, apparently. But here's a gif!

The character of Truly doesn't exist at all in the original (quite different) book by James Bond author Ian Fleming - surprising, I know, given her name! - and, honestly, the fact that Truly and the romantic subplot of this movie exist are why it had such a strong impact on me as a child, and very much why I fell in love with it again as an adult. Even though the score is wonderful anyway and the story is charming and magical, I can confidently say that I would not have become as completely enchanted or had such a strong desire to revisit it again and again if there'd been no Truly and no love story. The fact that Sally Ann's performance makes Truly so loveable is, obviously, a pretty crucial factor there.

Sally Ann's delivery of "Well, Mr. Potts... now you'll have to marry me!" after Caractacus kisses Truly... that slide from prim mock-outrage to the playful, warm, you-can-hear-the-smile-in her-voice conclusion is flawless. Not even exaggerating when I say that this was the moment that made me into a hopeless romantic as a 9-year-old child. Sure, this wasn't the first movie I'd seen where two people fall in love and live happily ever after, but I distinctly remember that this was the first romance story that had me in a giggling, kicking-my-feet, "I ship it so hard" state of mind. And after revisiting it as an adult for the first time last year, I have confirmed that yes, child me already had great taste in fictional romances!

Oh, I could say so much about the difference in her body language between the two scenes where Caractacus carries Truly out of her car that's become stuck in a pond. The first time, Truly is affronted and extremely embarrassed by the situation, holding herself so stiffly and awkwardly to avoid an accidental embrace that she causes him to nearly lose his balance and drop her. The second time, when they're in love and they know it, she snuggles right up into his arms without hesitation and it's the cutest thing ever. Sally Ann was 5'6" but looks so tiny in that scene!

(And that kiss! Maybe I'm getting off-topic here in terms of strictly focusing on Sally Ann's contributions, because Dick van Dyke deserves tons of credit for making this kiss so good... but wow, the kiss. Several times I have called it "the Most Kiss they could have gotten away with in a children's movie." Again, giggling, kicking my feet etc.)

While Truly's costumes and hairstyling are rarely historically accurate (the film is set around 1910), the stylized nature of her fashion is iconic and memorable in itself. Sally Ann also completely pulls off playing a fresh-faced ingenue who is 12+ years younger than her actual age - and I do wonder if the aging-down of Sally Ann is at least part of the reason why Truly wears her hair loose throughout most of the movie! Either way, it works perfectly and I was shocked when I first learned how much older she was than her character. (If you watch her in The Admirable Crichton, where she is also in Edwardian costume and was closer to Truly's actual age, she really doesn't look all that much different. If anything, I think she looks even more glowingly beautiful in Chitty!)

Also, as for Truly wearing her hair down... it may just have been an intentionally anachronistic stylistic choice, but in-story, I think it actually contributes to her character by showing a willingness to flout convention and pursue whatever will make her happy instead of what's expected of her, which happens to be a key theme of her character arc.

Another thing that led me to adore Sally Ann as a person as I learned more about her over the last year: in the 1960s, she appeared as a panelist in quite a few episodes of the game show To Tell the Truth (as well as a few episodes of Password), and these can be found on Youtube. I really adore how her personality shines through - she's unfailingly bubbly, witty, self-deprecating, and a bit quirky. Just listening to her speak is a delight and she has one of the best laughs I've ever heard. Here is one of my favorite little moments that I clipped. 

By all accounts, she was a delightful person to know and work with, witty and clever, very professional, and very serious about her craft. She also always maintained a great affection for and pride in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and her role as Truly, which is always a wonderful thing to know about an actor in a beloved role.

Another bonus: here is a super charming interview with her after a backstage disaster at What Makes Sammy Run? on Broadway.

She was also, along with Twiggy and Diahann Carroll (as Julia Baker), one of the first three celebrities to have her likeness made into a Barbie doll.

Two of her earlier films I recommend are the comedies Fools Rush In (1949) and The Admirable Crichton (1957), if you can find them (hint-hint, you can.) You may also be able to find the 1966 TV movie of her reprising her Tony-nominated role of Fiona in Brigadoon with Robert Goulet, and although I feel like the oddly close-up way the film was shot kinda does a disservice to the actors at times, it's still amazing to be able to see and hear her in a role she performed on Broadway.

Richard Rodgers once called Sally Ann "the greatest singer who ever sang on the American musical stage." Now, I don't quote this to claim this superlative as some kind of objective fact. If you know anything about me, I am very, very strongly opposed to pitting women against each other and all the Golden Age sopranos are absolute queens who deserve crowns, no matter how much mainstream success or present-day name-recognition they have/had. I just think it's phenomenal that she received such high praise from a man who worked with many of the best musical theatre singers who ever lived... and to think, many people today have never even heard her voice. Without her performance as Truly Scrumptious, it's possible almost nobody would in the future! I am so glad that Sally Ann's lasting legacy was ensured by such a beloved film role.

Sadly for us, many of the theatrical roles which she originated (and thus, for which cast albums featuring her exist) were in shows that either flopped quickly or at least did not enter the theatrical canon, so she never achieved the level of mainstream recognition she clearly deserves. But Sally Ann also played such legendary and challenging roles as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, Fiona MacLaren in Brigadoon (for which she received a Tony nomination), Maria Rainer von Trapp in The Sound of Music, Anna Leonowens in The King and I, and, much later, Desiree Armfeldt in A Little Night Music. She received great acclaim for all of these performances and, judging by what we know of her process on My Fair Lady, was excellent at making roles distinctly her own and never merely imitating another performer.

Even in her iconic original role of Truly Scrumptious, you don't get to hear the true full power of Sally Ann's extraordinary soprano. For that, I highly recommend listening to "Another Time, Another Place" from Kwamina (1961), and "Something to Live For" from What Makes Sammy Run? (1964). I'm always sad that we don't have any recordings of her in her "fiery" star turn as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, but you can at least hear her do a Cockney accent, be silly, and sing "With a Little Bit of Luck" with Bing Crosby here!

If it weren't for the enduring success of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, few people might have even heard of Sally Ann Howes today, and that would be a terrible loss. I cannot overstate that I am so grateful that we all know who she is because she played this role and we get to see her give this radiant performance of a character that's all her own. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think the fact that this was Sally Ann's only musical film role (and the ONLY role most people will ever see her in) makes it even more precious, and makes everything she brings to the character that much more distinctive and unique and special.

Both for all of the talent and charm she brings to the role itself, and everything else that I and many other fans have been able to learn of so much of her otherwise-obscure work because of it, the world is incredibly lucky to have the lovely Sally Ann Howes immortalized as our Truly Scrumptious, and I wouldn't have it any other way 💖

[pacifymebby]

I cry when people yell at me(parent issues™️) and I was wondering how the peakys would react to that, like I can handle most things but yelling is like a big nono for me, would they be concerned or tease me for that, I don't think they will but I'm interested on how they'll react to it for the first time it happens, or if I yell back for the first time? You just do a great job at writing these characters💛

( im sorry if this is too personal or whatever)

AN: not too personal my lovely dw, here at Pacifymebby dot Tumblr dot com we (me) totally specialise in ✨ fanfiction as therapy ✨ haha. Sorry these have taken me ages to do. I'm also a crier when men shout at me so I hope I've written this how you wanted!!!!

Tommy

🌿 Is genuinely very shocked when, mid argument, you start crying. You've seen so much worse than this, you've witnessed some terrible things because of him and his brothers, the fights they get into every week. Only last week you'd watched with as calm a demeanour as one could manage, whilst Arthur had a violent breakdown and smashed a chair up at the dinner table. You'd not shown a shred of fear. But now, here you are, silent, heartbreaking tears streaming down your face and why?

🌿 because Tommy raised his voice at you.

🌿 you couldn't even remember what you'd been arguing about now. You'd seen red and blue fear in your mind the second he'd raised his voice. You'd watched him lose his temper with you, his jaw tense, his face going red as he yelled at you, his expression so angry, so cold and unforgiving. And it had shocked you. Tommy had never raised his voice at you before. You'd seen him shout at his brothers but he'd never shouted at you.

🌿 and the sight of you suddenly drained of colour, your skin taking on that strange bloodless translucency as you starred back at him wide eyed and fearful... it shocks him. You're looking at him like you don't recognise him and suddenly there's a lump in his throat.

🌿 He reaches out for you but you flinch away from him, backing away slowly and then suddenly fleeing, running away, vision blurred by your tears. You don't really know where to go and you can here him calling after you, but his voice raised shouting down the hallway for you only makes it worse. Only adds to your fear.

🌿 you're certain that you're in trouble so you don't stop even when he calls after you. Thing is he hasn't even said he's sorry. Hasn't realised why you're running from him.

🌿 "Y/N love for fuck sake what're you doin... we need to talk about this... Y/n stop!"

🌿 He's chased you out to the gardens, still shouting, still not getting the hint... it's only when he shouts again, louder this time, screaming your name across the lawn that you freeze. His voice seems to shake the whole world and it strikes the fear of god into you. So you stop. And he thinks thats the problem solved, that you've stopped running away from him now so he can return to you and you can talk like grownups.

🌿 but when he gets closer to you you back away some more, and even when he warns you to wait for him you edge away. Every step he takes you take one back until you find yourself backed up against a tree, looking at him with all this fear in your eyes.

🌿 He's careful as he approaches, one arm out to you, trying to coax you back to him... he can see that something has absolutely terrified you but it's only when he gets close enough to touch you, only when he brings his hand up to fix your hair that he realises what you're scared of.

🌿 "Don't hurt me!" You gasp, eyes squeezed shut, your body rigid with fear as you bring your hands up to protect your face. And it's that which makes him realise. That movement, that fragile tremble in your voice as you beg him not to harm you that breaks his heart.

🌿 and the realisation hits him like a freight train, chokes him. He can't believe you're frightened of him. He can't believe it's him who has caused you all this terror. You're trembling, your hands shaking the way a rabbit shakes when it knows it's being hunted.

🌿 He let's out a sigh, closes his eyes and tried to steady his own shaken nerves. He doesn't want to scare you anymore.

🌿 "Y/n, angel listen to me girl, I'm not going to hurt you..." he says, his voice a gentle caress as he takes your trembling hands in his, draws them away from your face and places them on his chest. He holds then both to his heart underneath his hand and with the other he cups your cheek. Makes you look up at him, catches your tears with his thumb and brushes them away.

🌿 "I scared you," he says looking at you ever so mournfully, he feels so guilty and you can see the hurt in his eyes. It just makes you feel worse and you shake your head trying to apologise. You can feel his heart beating beneath your hands, it's racing, his adrenaline too high and you feel guilty yourself because you made him angry.

🌿 "I'm.. I'm so sorry Tommy I made you angry I shouldn't have pissed you off its not..." but he cuts you off, finger pressed to your lips to hush you as he steps closer to you, his body so close to yours that you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. His head is bowed to look down at you.

🌿 "Shh now angel I'm talkin yeah, my turn to talk now eh so listen to me..." he's being ever so gentle, his hand holding your hip, the other tucking your hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek. He doesn't look harsh or sharp anymore, instead of anger his eyes are full of love. "Don't you apologise to me sweetheart, please don't do that... I'm sorry I shouted at you angel, shouldn't have done that but listen to me now eh cause this is important..."

🌿 You can't take your eyes off him, you're still shaking, still crying, your hearts still racing, but you're not frightened anymore. He's looking down at you with such an intense honesty, you can see the remorse in his eyes when he talks to you in that sweet gentle voice.

🌿 "I will never hurt you alright, I promise... even if I'm angry yeah, even if we're havin a blazing bloody row, I won't ever lay a finger on you like that sweetheart, I won't ever hurt you.."

🌿 You'd probably start crying all over again, burying your face in his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you and hold you tight. His hand stroking your back as he bows his head to place a kiss on yours. He'd cradle your head against his body and rest his chin in your hair. Close his eyes, hold onto you tight and treasure the feeling of you in his arms.

🌿 "You really fuckin scared me Tommy..." you'd sniffle struggling to calm yourself down.

🌿 "I know angel, I know and I'm really fuckin sorry alright..."

Alfie

🐻 He didn't mean to shout, Alfie's never raised his voice at you before because he doesn't believe in shouting at women and girls. He has a very firm, traditional view on that and he's stubborn about it too. No swearing, shouting and hitting women and girls.

🐻 The only reason he shouted is because he panicked, you were wandering around in a daydream so you hadn't noticed the tension in the bakery when you'd entered through the back door on your way to see your beloved. Tommy Shelby had just left, informing Alfie that he'd set up a trip wire to ensure his safety, that if he tugged on the string in his hand he would pull the pin from a grenade which would blow up half the bakery, starting a monstrous fire which would probably kill all inside. All those barrels of rum would go up in flames.

🐻 And you were one step from tripping that string which Tommy had tied to the leg of Alfies desk all, "I'll let you deal with this, have a think about what I've said whilst you work eh, careful though, its a delicate procedure..."

🐻 So when he'd seen you Alfie hadn't thought twice, shouting "Y/N stop! Stay there, fuckin don't move!" and luckily you'd frozen. Your body going rigid as the fear struck you like lightning.

🐻 He'd startled you for sure but more than that the sound of his voice ricochetting around the room, the voice of a man who was usually so tender and gentle with you, always so protective of you.. He'd never spoken to you like that and hearing it now struck ice cold fear into the very bones of you.

🐻 Alfie doesn't even notice at first, doesn't notice how you've gone white as a sheet, can't even move, he's too worried about that wire, too busy trying to work out what to do. Hoping there's a chance Tommy was bullshitting him. Hoping that actually there's nothing to fear.

🐻 And poor you, you're just stood there, hand clutched over your mouth starring at your love in shock. You don't know what to do because you don't want to embarrass yourself by bursting into tears over a little shouting, but you already know it's too late. Alfie really scared you, and he's never scared you before.

🐻 So you can't hold it back, you're trembling all over with the effort of fighting your tears, some have already escaped, you've swallowed down a sob already but it's the fact that Alfie's not even looking at you. The way he shouted at you so sharply, so harshly, and he isn't even looking at you now. You're struggling to reason with your own anxiety, convinced that you've done something wrong, that he hates you...

🐻 but then he hears it. The sound of your choked sob, one you'd tried and failed to hold back. And once the first escapes the damn breaks and you're in floods of tears. You don't move, frozen to the spot but your hands are over your face and your crying so mournfully that the sound sends an icy shard through Alfie's heart. Suddenly the hidden explosive is the least of his worries.

🐻 "Fuck," he grumbles to himself, telling himself off for snapping at you, "gentle Alfie what have I fuckin told you man, sometimes yeah you have to be fuckin gentle..." he's grumbling to himself as he reassesses his predicament. He knows he needs to get to you and get you to safety but he knows he can't get to you without risking your safety.

🐻 So he sighs. "Ziskeit, my dear, y/n poppet I'm sorry yeah, didn't mean to shout at you ziskeit, didn't mean to shout.. that was just me you know... panickin right, but I shouldn't have shouted at you yeah lovely girl I'm sorry..." he's making his way towards you very slowly and very carefully, talking soft and gentle, hands out because he doesn't want to startle you. His eyes flickering with concern between you and the wire you almost tripped.

🐻 "See my ziskeit, down there right by your feet yeah, there's a wire right and I need you to be very careful cause it's very dangerous yeah..." he doesn't want to scare you more than he already has but he also doesn't want you to move and accidentally set it off.

🐻 When he finally gets to you he doesn't hesitate to wrap his big arms around you and give you the warmest, tightest bear hug. He holds you firm against his chest, strokes your hair and cradles your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His beards tickley on your cheek and you're all wrapped up in the comfort of his musky scent.

🐻 "There, there my little ziskeit, s'alright now yeah, your Alfie's got you my darlin an he ain't lettin you go.."

🐻 He takes your hands from your face, won't let you hide and then he wipes your tears away with his thumbs. You can't just turn the waterworks off though and the tears keep coming.

🐻 Alfie feels so guilty.

🐻 But he'd hold your face in his hands and put his forehead against yours, looking down into your watery wounded eyes with such an intense devotion.

🐻 "Didn't mean to scare you poppet, please don't be scared now yeah, I'm here, I love you... I didn't mean to shout."

🐻 He'd probably call Ollie or one of his trusted men for help, he'd be instructing them on how to undo and disarm Tommy's trap, all the while still holding you and hushing you. The contrast between the way he barks orders at his men and then turns to you with the most tender, soft voice, shushing you and stroking your hair.

🐻 Promises he'll never shout at you again, but also, because he knows what he's like he also promises that if he does raise his voice at you, it won't be because he's angry and it won't be because he hates you. It'll be because he'd a stupid old man who forgets himself sometimes.

🐻 You'd sniffle, this shy smile on your lips as you tell him "you're not a stupid old man..." and he'd just chuckle, kiss your nose and brush your hair away from your tear stained cheeks, probably catching another tear on his thumb. "I am for making my ziskeit cry, but, you have my word now don't you girl, ain't ever gonna make you cry again..."

🐻 It's a big promise but Alfie is truly devoted to you and so protective of you that he really does hold it against himself forever. He's always viewed himself as your protector so the idea that you were scared of him is horrifying to him. He really does intend to keep his promise.

🐻 Will set a rule in the bakery and the warehouses that if you're around nobody is to raise their voice for any reason. He'll spin some bullshit about how it's very fucking rude and inconsiderate to shout when there are women and children present. If anyone breaks that rule Alfie will not hesitate to silence them in his own special way.

Arthur

🍂 It's probably not the first time this has happened let's be real here, this is probable not even the first time this has happend this week...

🍂 Arthur's emotions aren't exactly the easiest thing to endure... for either of you. He has a quick temper and he doesn't know how to express himself. If he's scared he turns to violence, if he's upset, he turns to violence, if he's angry, violence... even when he's happy or excited something usually gets broken, he usually forgets himself, talks too loudly... shouts...

🍂 And even though you're used to Arthur and his loud, uncontrollable and often unpredictable ways, you've never been able to get used to his yelling. You've always been easily startled and people yelling, raised voices has always set you on edge. And when someone shouts at you well, you always cry. You can't help yourself and you feel so stupid for it sometimes too... especially when it's Arthur who has made you cry because you know you should be used to it by now. You know what he's like... when he shouts and you start crying you always feel like a stupid child who can't control her own emotions.

🍂 But Arthur understands how that feels. It's not like he can control his either...

🍂 So of all the Blinders Arthur is the most sympathetic. It's not just that he feels terribly guilty for making you cry, it's that he hates how bad about yourself it makes you feel too and he wants you to learn not to be so hard on yourself.

🍂 So, he's always trying his best not to shout, for whatever reason... sometimes he comes home ecstatic about something that happened at the Garrison, he's half way through shouting through the house for you when he cuts himself off.

🍂 "Nah what have I fuckin told you Arthur Shelby, indoor voice for y/n, nice, gentle indoor voice..."

🍂 But of course this is Arthur and no matter how hard he tries he forgets himself and loses control on the regular. And when he does you also lose control... Arthur is an intimidating man at the best of times and when he shouts he is so fucking scary... especially when he's shouting because he's angry, and especially if he's shouting because he's arguing with you...

🍂 When that happens you probably don't just cry, you burst into tears, really dramatically... you'd shrink away from him, curl up on the floor crying your heart out, shaking, sobbing into your skirts and then when he realises what he's done it hits him in the gut and he does cold, panicks. He feels so guilty for scaring you again and rushes to try and hug.

🍂 Gets down there on the floor with you and bundles you up in his arms. His whole demeanor changes in an instant, all the fight knocked out of him in seconds as he rushed to comfort you.

🍂 Cradles you to his chest, rocking you to sooth you as he apologises over and over again. "For fuck sake darlin come here, fuckin 'ell I'm such a bloody idiot, I'm sorry my darlin I'm fuckin so sorry alright... didnt mean to scare you girl, y'know I love you don't I, ain't gonna hurt you, didn't mean to scare you just forgot meself that's all, you're alright my girl, I've got you eh, your Arthur loves you very much an he's very fuckin sorry for being such a fuckin dinlow eh..."

🍂 You'd be clutching at his shirt, sobbing into his chest, doing your best to calm yourself down, mentally chastising yourself for being so stupid because you know he didn't mean it, you know it was an accident, that you're safe with Arthur, that he won't ever hurt you... but even so, he scared you so much...

🍂 you'd push yourself up in his lap and try to wipe your tears away, probably trying to pull away from him and act as though everything was fine even though all you want to do is nestle deeper into his embrace and hold onto him until your heart stops racing.

🍂 And Arthur knows you well enough to recognise what you're doing so he isn't going to just let you go and pretend you're fine.

🍂 "Right now where dya think you're goin darlin..." he'd start, catching your hand and tugging you back into his lap, his arm locking around your waist, the other hand using his sleeve to dry your eyes. "Look at me yeah, got all the time in the world eh so I don't know what you're rushin off for darlin..."

🍂 "S'alright I'm alright now Arth was just being stupid wasn't I, you didn't scare me it's fine just bein..." but he'd cut you off shaking his head, giving you that frown which means 'dont give me all that rot y/n, I know you.'

🍂 "Nah," he'd say, "now don't start with all that shit now darlin, not wi me eh, I did scare you and you ain't stupid for bein scared neither... you ain't stupid at all..." "but..." when you try to argue he holds your face in both hands, your nose pressed up against his, his scruffy hair tickling your cheek as he gets right up close to you. His eyes are so intense when they lock with yours. "No buts now sweetheart, I fuckin scared you, I know I did and I'm fuckin sorry for it too... I'm the one who lost control so I'm the one who has to apologise right love, so I'm fuckin sorry yeah sweetheart, I hate scaring you an I never wanna do it again yeah... need to start using me fuckin brain eh love..."

🍂 But you hate seeing him put himself down so you're there holding his face in your hands too, looking up at him with such intensity, such stubbornness, it would be infuriating for him if he didn't currently feel so guilty. "You're not a fuckin idiot Arthur... don't call yourself stupid alright..."

🍂 For you and Arthur these scenes always end in the most loving of embraces, him holding you tight against him, you sitting in his lap on the floor, the two of you holding onto one another so carefully, so lovingly, your eyes locking as you tell eachother again how much you love one another. Your lips meeting in a desperate adoring kiss. One neither of you want to pull away from.

🍂 "Fuckin love you my darlin, don't even mean to upset you eh, I'll try harder yeah, Indoor voice from now I promise..." he says in as close to a whisper as Arthur Shelby can manage, kissing your face all over. Kissing away the last of your tears.

🍂 He always promises he won't shout at you again, you always promise you'll stop crying when he does. Both of you know that in a couple days time you'll be going over the whole routine again.

John

🌼 For all that John is a very laidback man, he has a temper on him and he has a very strict sense of morals, right and wrong (despite all of his moral activities) and when he feels strongly about something he will argue about it... and he has a temper on him.

🌼 When he loses his temper things can get messy, too emotional... He doesn't usually lose him temper with you though and so when he does it comes as even more of a shock.

🌼 He doesn't mean to start shouting at you, he already knows you don't deal well with it... Your voices have both been raising slowly as the arguments been escalating and when he finally starts really shouting you shout right back...

🌼 He didn't even realise he'd shouted until he heard your voice shouting back... suddenly cracking because you're trembling, because you've been fighting back your tears and they've just escaped.

🌼 He sees the tears streaming down your face and realises that you aren't even shouting because you're angry, your shout was one of fear. A "Stop it! Stop fucking shouting at me John fucking stop it!" Your hands over your ears as you shout at him from across the kitchen table, your eyes desperate with heartache and fear.

🌼 For a second you're looking at him with real upset and shock, like you don't recognise him at all, like he isn't your John anymore...

🌼 He feels terrible. He's gripped with guilt, a pain in his throat squeezing and aching, he's choked up by tears in his own eyes. Sometimes feelings are too big and John can't handle them.

🌼 Views himself as being the good family man, a loving, caring husband, a protective father, the man who looks after everyone, provides for them, so the idea that he could have done to his wife the one things she really can't handle, disgusts him. He's really disappointed in himself and he's determined to make it up to you.

🌼 He'd raise his hands up in surrender, his eyes full of guilt, his cheeks a little flushed as a tear escapes his eye, he's stepping away from the table, approaching you cautiously.

🌼 "Am sorry flower, I'm sorry..." his voice is wobbling but he's talking quietly now, as if lowering his voice like this is going to make up for the violence of his shouting at you moments before... and it does a little, or at least, his sudden effort to be gentle and careful calms you, lets you know you're not in danger.

🌼 He'll wrap his arms around you carefully, waiting for you to come to him, waiting for you to let him hold you. But when you feel the outline of his embrace you crumble, throwing your arms around him, sobbing into his neck as he closes his hold around you a little tighter, keeping you secure.

🌼 He'll hush you and rock you, doing his best to calm you down, all the while apologising for losing his temper.

🌼 "I'm so sorry little flower, I shouldn't have shouted at you, shouldn't have lost me temper that was fuckin stupid of me wasn't it..."

🌼 Lots of kissing your hair and your forehead. Will hold you as long as you need to calm down.

🌼 Will wipe your tears and tap your nose. Will hold your face in both his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, forehead to forehead promising you very passionately that he'll never shout at you like that again. You can see it in his eyes how strongly he feels, he's got tears in his eyes and he's perhaps crying a little too. He's talking but his jaw is clenched and the words are forced through his teeth so they come out really shaky but certain.

🌼 You catching his tears on your thumbs and brushing them away. The two of you eventually smiling at that, making a little joke about how over emotional you both are.

🌼 If you try to apologise for having cried, or if you try to joke about your tears, how silly it was of you to cry just because he shouted at you he will shake his head, cut you off all "no, no... no way flower, you ain't silly for cryin, you ain't supposed to like bein shouted at and your husband definitely ain't supposed to be shoutin at you like that neither..."

🌼 He'll be extra sweet to you for many days to come, bringing you flowers, talking particularly gently to you too. Lots of affection, hugs, kisses, holding your hand whenever he can, layering it on thick so that you know he still loves you... he knows how sensitive you are and knows that you'll still be worrying about the argument days later, so he'll do as much as he can to show you he loves you.

🌼 Once during a particularly heated family meeting Tommy shouted down the table at you for something you said, John was livid, white as a sheet with rage as he put his arms around you and stood protectively behind you. He was glaring so sharply his stare could have sliced Tommy open. Later you heard them scrapping when everyone else had left.

Bonnie

🍀 Bonnie is such a calm lad, he never shouts even when he's threatening other people. He's not the kind of man who raises his voice unless he really has to, he's usually the quietly threatening, controlled anger, spitting his threats through gritted teeth, not yelling...

🍀 It would take one hell of an argument, you'd both be feeling fragile and desperate, both of you shaking with he strength of the heartache and distress you're feeling.

🍀 Whatever you're fighting about it's been brewing for awhile so you both have so many thoughts, so many troubled feelings you need to get off your chest...

🍀 And when he does shout its because he feels a sudden panic, has a sudden fear that he will never be able to explain himself, never be able to make you understand... it's a truly desperate shout, almost a plea... "Would you just listen to me for a second love I'm trying to..."

🍀But he doesn't even finish the sentence, the second he realises he's yelled at you he feels a wee bit sick, his hands shaking and suddenly he can't speak at all. He's watching you, you're frozen, starring back at him with these terrifyingly sad wide eyes...

🍀 he can see he's just broken your heart.

🍀 For a moment theres silence, you're just starring back at him in shock, he's watching you, scared to move or say another word because if he does he's worried something between you will break. That you're both hanging on by a thread.

🍀 And when the thread snaps and you come back to life, your hand rising to cover your mouth and catch your sob, your eyes closing as your whole body shivers with the effort of fighting back tears, Bonnie watches you with this hollow weight in his stomach, this cold lump of guilt.

🍀 Swallows a lump in his throat, his voice quiet and shaky when he speaks again.

🍀 "Fuck, fuck I'm so sorry dove... don't cry, don't cry dove I'm sorry," he's speaking softly, hesitant to try and hug you because he saw the fear in your eyes and he's not sure you want him to come any closer now. "Please forgive me y/n I'm sorry, can I..." he trails off reaching for your hand, tugging you gently into his arms.

🍀Whatever you were fighting about it simultaneously ceases to matter to him and also becomes completely unsolvable...he's scared youre never going to look at him the same way again. He's supposed to be your man, your protector, the one person you can always trust and now he's let you down, he's scared you... he really resents himself for that, can't forgive himself for scaring you.

🍀"I'm sorry little dove," he'd whisper, his voice soothing, his breath brushing your cheek as he promises he won't shout like that again, "s'okay sweetpea, s'alright..." but he doesn't feel like its alright.

🍀 He'll hold you as snug as he can, but carefully too, treating you extra delicately, he's really hesitant to hug you too tightly or kiss you in case you're scared of him now.

🍀 "Don't be scared of my dove, you're breakin me heart," he says it with a teasing little smile, trying to get a giggle from you or something but you can hear the heartbreak in his voice and you know he's really telling the truth.

🍀 When you settle down a little you nuzzle into him, "Sorry Bon..." you sniffle trying to dry your eyes, caught out and speechless when he catches your hands in his and, strokes his thumbs over your palms. "What you sayin sorry for eh sweetpea? Am the one whose sayin sorry now..." he chuckles, holding your palm up to his lips and kissing your hands.

🍀 Even if you feel better quickly, soothed by Bonnie's sweetness, he won't feel better about it. The guilt will stick with him for a long time, one of those memories that comes back in the middle of the night and makes him cringe.

🍀 He's extra soft with you for the rest of the day and the morning after too, treating you like he's scared you're going to break. He speaks quietly and gently and he'll treat you with such tenderness, holding you at every opportunity, holding your hand even if you're just sitting together. Any excuse to kiss you or tell you he loves you.

🍀 Because he knows how upset you get when someone yells at you, if anyone else ever makes you cry by raising their voice at you Bonnie's fierce protective side will snap and he will be raring to defend you. You have had to talk him down from fights because of this.

Isaiah

🐀 He'll be so shocked when you start crying... he's seen you witness so much "worse" than shouting before... so he really wasn't expecting you to burst into tears when a drunk man at the bar raised his voice at you. He turns with a frown, brows tugged in in confusion as he blinks at you struggling to process the sight of you with tears streaking your face. He honestly didn't think anything could phase you...

🐀 For a second he's stunned but he soon snaps into action... "For fuck sake man now look what you've done!" He groans turning to the man behind your tears, "gone and made me girl cry ain't you... now I have to hurt ya..." he says with a cruel grin, as if he hadn't been intending on hurting the stupid cunt who'd been eyeing his girl up with lecherous eyes all evening anyway. "Don't get me wrong like... I wanted to anyway yeah, you've just given me a good excuse..."

🐀 Once he's satisfied he's fucked the stupid bastard up enough, he turns his attention back to you. He's not expecting to see you still crying, in fact he'd kind of been hoping he'd just imagined it, been hoping he was just going crazy like Arthur... but he isn't, and you are still crying.

🐀 And Isaiah isn't good with crying girls, doesn't know what to do about all those tears, feels totally at a loss.. especially because he's never seen you cry before.

🐀 will try to joke about it, not teasing you harshly, just making a little joke about how 'easily' scared it turns out you are... "You had me fooled mousy..."

🐀 This earns him a pretty firm slap from Ado who's jaw has just hit the floor... "Fuck sake dinlow whatre you doing making it bloody worse!" She'd be all arms crossed and shaking her head, muttering about how men these days are all the fucking stupid same.

🐀 but her slaps gotten through to Isaiah at least who is looking at you now with a somewhat more awkward smile, but he takes your hand and offers you a hug. This is the most stunted a conversation with Isaiah could possibly be and you're beginning to feel a whole different kind of anxious.

🐀 "Right for fuck sake, I've had enough of this.." Ada cuts in, "you.. give your girlfriend a fuckin hug alright," she'd say pointing at Isaiah and then pointing at you, "and you.. god sake girl get yourself a better fuckin boyfriend eh?"

🐀 "Alright Ada piss off yeah I've got her, she's alright now ain't you mousy..." Isaiah would groan, he's embarrassed by Ada pointing out his flaws but hes showing it as frustration instead. He will take her advice onboard however, he isn't that stupid.

🐀 He'll put his arm around your shoulder and squeeze you into his side steering you outside for a cigarette and some cool night air. He knows you'll be embarrassed about crying so he wants to take you somewhere quiet.

🐀 "Sorry for laughing at you doll you just took me by surprise... ain't like you is it... crying..." he'll say gently, he's sharing a cigarette with you, taking a drag or two and then placing it between your lips carefully. This is something he only does when he's trying to make you feel extra close and cosy with him.

🐀 He's quite curious about it, wants to understand why you cried, wants to know what it is about raised voices that you just can't deal with. And this curiosity isn't so that he can mock you, it's so that he can help you. He never wants to see you cry like that again so he wants to help you get over your fear...

🐀 He will offer you lots of reassurance, "you know I'm always here for you love, won't ever let anyone hurt you yeah... so even if someone does shout at you you ain't got nothin to be scared of yeah?"

🐀 He'll remind you that now you're with the Peaky Blinders you're always going to have someone near by to protect you. That men like "that cunt inside" will think twice about raising their voice at you...

🐀 Will hold your hand for the rest of the night, giving it reassuring squeezes at seemingly random moments. His affections will be subtle but constant all night and he'll make sure you feel safe.

🐀 If ever he shouts when you're nearby he'll remember himself quickly, apologising to you as soon as he can, making sure you're alright. If other Peaky lads chastise him for this he'll sock them round the back of the head no hesitations.

🐀 He's too easy going and because he doesn't want to shout at you, he avoids arguments like the plague, he'd rather just let most things slide until an issue absolutely has to be addressed because he's worried that if he gets swept into a row with you he won't be able to stop himself from losing his temper. He isn't sure yet whether this tactic is going to serve him well.

Michael

☘️ Its a heated argument, one which really give meaning to the phrase "blazing row." You and Michael are both furious with one another over a disagreement which has been stewing and bubbling away for weeks. One about Tommy Shelby and the unreasonable pressure he puts on his younger cousin.

☘️ When the row started it was because you wanted Michael to stand up to his cousin, you'd tried to encourage him to put his foot down, to start saying no every now and then when Tommy's demands crossed boundaries, but Michael didn't want to. he said you didn't understand the family, that you were sticking your nose into something which doesn't concern you.

☘️ And because you care so much about Michael you can't let go, won't back down. And because he cares about you and doesn't want you winding up in trouble Michael refuses to back down too. And thats how you end up screaming at one another in the middle of breakfast one morning.

☘️ He's so angry he doesn't notice that you aren't just shouting to match his fierce temper. He doesn't notice that you're trembling all over, that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are wide and white - more like a deer in the headlights than a dragon.

☘️ The argument would peak with you unleashing all your fear and hurt, all your desperation into one shattering scream, "Leave me alone Michael for fuck sake leave me alone!" you shout over your shoulder when you go running off into the garden and he follows. HE doesn't listen however and it takes you picking a rock up and throwing it in his direction for him to get the message and let you go.

☘️ You run away for the rest of the day, go disappearing down the lane storming into the park up the street, finding a bench or a tree to sit beneath, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing into your skirts.

☘️ Meanwhile at home Michael is pissed off, pacing, getting angry, damaging furniture as his temper gets the better of him. He's fuming, he can't get his head around why you ran away. Why you were so upset. . He thinks you behaved childishly and doesn't understand why you ran off like a little girl...

☘️ It takes you both a long time to calm down and when you do you really don't want to go back to the house, so you go to Polly's instead, you don't tell her about the row but you drink tea with her and wait for Michael to turn up. (Pol assures you he always comes to her when you've been fighting)

☘️ And when he does show up that evening he's been drinking whiskey and his mood is bitter and self pitying.

☘️ "Let me guess Michael my boy, you and y/n had a row... she got upset, she ran away, she..." "Came here," he smirks shaking his head with a small self deprecating smile, "hiya love..."

☘️ He won't apologise for shouting because you were shouting too, and because Michael never apologises for anything. But he will pour the two of you some tea and try to talk to you a little more softly than before.

☘️ "You worried me love, running away from me like that...gave me a scare..." "You were shouting at me," you shrug sullenly. He would be struggling not to let his temper flare again. "You were shouting at me too to be fair love... and anyway, you're not a little girl are you, you don't run away from someone just for shouting..."

☘️ You'd bristle, getting defensive, fresh tears glossing your eyes then, a painful lump in your throat when you realise he doesn't understand and maybe isn't going to.

☘️ "No," you say, voice catching in your throat, "but what kind of man likes screaming at his girl?" When you ask him that he won't be able to ignore the guilt he feels. He'll be struggling to swallow down the lump in his throat too and he'll reach for your hand across the table, brush his thumb over your knuckles as he looks you in the eyes, tries to find an unspoken equilibrium between the two of you. Something to two of you can hold onto despite your differences.

☘️ "Alright," he says finally, let's out a little sigh and squeezes your hand. "No more shouting eh how does that sound?"

☘️ When you nod your head, your smile forming slow but wide, he mirrors your warm expression and leans back in his chair, tugs your hand across the table so that you'll stand and come sit down in his lap.

☘️ "No more shouting it is then y/n," he says holding your waist in his hands, feeling closer to you at last, enjoying the comfort of your familiar shape beneath his hands. He'll point to his cheek then all, "come on love, give us a kiss eh? Forgive me?" and he'll wait until you do lean in to place a kiss on his cheek before he catches yours in his palm and steers your mouth towards his.

AN/ hope these were what you were hoping for lovely, I honestly am not sure I've done your request justice but I don't think I can write much more so sorry about that :/

Taglist:

@jomarch-wannabe @zablife @call-sign-shark @marwwfairy@toddlerbodybag@mollybegger-blog@inalovesrabbits-blog @elina-777@impossibleheartflower@liliac-dreamer@everysage@itsghostgirlyo

[paviastrashyrings]

*slams my hands on the table*

Finally, there's more Pavia liker here in tumblr and I been waiting for someone making Pavia contents/fanfics, yet you gib meh a delicious pavia content.

Speaking of Pavia, Can I have a request for him? I'm not sure if you heard his backstory but feel free to decline this request!

What if Pavia finally met his childhood best friend (crush) in his past? Who always been there for him in dark and gloomy times in his childhood? But finally met again as they grow up, would Pavia still have the love for reader when he met them again? And would they spend more time together than before in the past? What would that be?

*Grabs le a mic on you*

What an interesting ask; to answer your question dear reader, I know some of his lore. The basement in piedmont, the reason he was there. If there is anything I have not learned, I would be happy to learn more.

With such out of the way, dear readers, join me now in yet another sweet dream of the wolf and his pack.

A childhood crush is hard to come by when you're stuck in a basement for majority of what most would call childhood.

but little tiny you, leaving gifts you found at the only window that the basement had or dropping flowers and whatever trinkets you found out in the wilds.

slowly, he took notice and decided to try and speak to you.

You were so kind, and it felt so wonderful to finally have some kind of attention after all of this time without human interactions.

The day he disappeared, you thought he had died with not so much as a goodbye. You mourned, not knowing how to handle the loss of a friend.

as you grew older, you continued to carry a small bundle of dried and pressed petals from the flowers you used to show him. They sit neatly in a little pendant around your neck.

You were walking along, out on a small grocery run when you heard a voice that sounded oddly familiar.

You look around, clutching your pendant until your eyes land on him.

who..no that couldn't be who you thought it was. "Excuse me, sir" you'd try to at least get a better look at him. He couldn't possibly be who you thought it was, could it? "You're excused, can't you see im in the middle of-" and he stops, eyes filled with a strange familiarity as they land on you. He held a sweet in his hand, wrapped nicely in a box, it seems he was about to indulge. "I just had to ask," you start timidly, seeing the man sit in shocked silence. You open your pendant, the petals of flowers you used to show the little boy in the basement still pristine. "Do you know what flowers these petals belong to?"

To say he was shocked was an understatement, staring at the petals with wide eyes through his tinted glasses.

"Is it really you Pavia? After all these years?" youd ask, the realization dawning on him almost as soon as you said his name.

"Goodness, look at how much you've grown. I thought the day that my gifts weren't met with happy chatter, you had died." You'd continue, being unable to read the emotions he felt through his expression.

"I missed you; i missed you dearly in fact. I carried these everyday because I wanted to keep you with me" without saying a word in response to any of your rambling, he took your face in his hands.

He stared you down, as if trying to see if it really was you, he even leaned in and sniffed you as if he were a dog.

He was wary, but the more you spoke of the gifts you would show him and the nights you would talk to him through the one window he had in the basement, he started to believe you more.

The fact that you said you missed him? That you carried something that reminded you of him? He could cry, he didn't think that anyone doing that simply because they thought of him dearly was even possible.

He would love to catch up, first asking if you remembered what the names of his imaginary friends were.

If you answered with Tonika, Leon, Maleficent, Andrea, and Peter: well he automatically knew that you really were missing him.

Happy that you remembered, would absolutely pester you to hang out whenever you possibly could.

You got him a matching pendant, but it was empty. You had insisted that he put something in there that reminded him of you, so he could carry it around like you did with the petals.

Internally melting, externally grumbling about it being so much work.

He did it anyways, wears it religiously. Inside was a single piece of opal small enough to fit, it made him think of how bright you were.

He looks at it sometimes, but is more proud to wear it around knowing that yours matches.

crying, your honor please just let me love him gently Goodness, all of you have been so wonderful with your requests in my inbox!! I really wasnt expecting these to be so well received but I love writing them and I will do my best to get them all out to you asap! I digress, come dream with me some other time. From your Beloved, Moon.

[blackberrywars]

38, 41 (I’m always cruising for fic recs!) 42 & 48 ❤️

Thank you so much for playing!!! I appreciate the asks, and apologize for the amount of shit I about to write. I messaged you about losing this draft, but apparently tumblr just sent it to the bottom of my draft pile, so here we go! Putting it under a cut, because I went so overboard.

38: Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Alright, so this one is a little complicated. On the one hand, my most popular fic by far is Flint And Steel, but while the numbers definitely shocked me the most, it didn't surprise me. Most of my stuff is of side-pairings and f/f stuff, which isn't as popular in this fandom, so of course a fic with the big three of Jaskier, Geralt, and Yennefer is gonna get more traction in the form of shares and comments. The ones that surprised me though? The first two installments of my lady laiden smut series, Sweeter Than Pride and Collars of Many Kinds. Those two got awesome comments and bookmarks from people I didn't even recognize. And the sheer number of hits on them means there's definitely people re-visiting them, which is the highest kind of flattery on my smut fic.

41: Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

I refuse to choose only one, so buckle up, you're getting six. Also, to everyone I @'d, I hope you don't mind, I can remove it if you prefer.

I Am Bound To You (With A Tie I Cannot Break) by @on-a-lucky-tide. He did a fucking incredible job at conveying very complicated emotions in actions, and made me cry for entirely too long. I want to develop this skill so badly.

A Beginners Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code For Fun and Profit by @heronfem. If you ever want a masterclass in translating characterization to a modern au, this is IT. It's a massive Laiden-centered project with the whole found family along for the ride, and they handle the large cast beautifully. I've never really done a modern AU, but if I do and it's half this good, I'll be thankful.

Lives in Legacy by @tantumuna. This fic is is not only long enough to make me pass out in envy, every word counts. It explores a truly dark omegaverse with Eskel and Geralt, and there aren't words to describe it. I felt truly indescribable amounts of pain while reading this, even during the healing, and I'm so glad to have done it.

Snow and Dirty Rain by ajfanfic. It's a lovely little series of 70s lesbians Geralt and Jaskier living through that era as queer women and adopting butch lesbian Ciri. It's just a wonderful, well-researched AU, and I want to emulate that kind of grounded world.

Worthy of the Honey-Comb by @castillon02. It's a portrait of Vesemir coming to terms with Kaer Morhen's destruction and having to step up for the remaining wolves and form a new image of what it means to be a wolf witcher. Combines flashback and present moment so well it makes me ache.

Ballads by @linearao3. This is not a witcher fic like the rest, but it is one of the best examples of synthesizing omegaverse into a book's canon. This made me feel so many things, and again, all the details and worldbuilding just make it spectacular.

42: Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

My dear @hellinglasses has become a dear friend and has always been a wonderful cheerleader. Ever since the day she sent 9 comments on all my fics to my dry-as-the-desert inbox. Her efforts have helped me write so much more than I thought I could, and while I love going back to re-read them all, this one om Calm Before The Storm is probably one of my favorites.

This comment by Ledgea will forever hold a place in my heart, because it was the first comment I ever received, on the first fic I ever wrote. They made it into an amazing comment thread, and it was just so encouraging to me as a first-time writer. (EDIT: I put the wrong comment by mistake, because i was trying to limit myself)

48: What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

According to my history, the last fic i (re-re-re-re-)read was Cock in the Henhouse by the wonderful @halehathnofury. It's a hilarious, filthy Geralt x Eskel anthology, and I have entirely too many feelings about it. Excellent for a night when you just need to feel good all over.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick. 

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here. 

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business. 

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning. 

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay. 

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one. 

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable. 

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan. 

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways. 

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly. 

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.” 

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch. 

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous,  “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth. 

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away. 

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?” 

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?” 

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth. 

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.” 

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start. 

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth. 

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him. 

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits. 

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure. 

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same. 

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away. 

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread. 

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs. 

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat. 

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.” 

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip. 

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed. 

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes. 

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable. 

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers. 

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust. 

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him. 

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea. 

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck. 

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him. 

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed. 

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs. 

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be. 

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit” 

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.” 

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster. 

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg. 

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations. 

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened. 

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye. 

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would. 

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

[writerseven]

The next installment of props was giving me trouble, so I ended up doing some warm up writing in the form of flipping a scene from runaway to Dick's perspective.

I'm not posting this officially since it's super unpolished, probably redundant, and potentially even contradicting future fics in the series since I just wrote it as an exercise, but I figured I'd drop it here because this sort of thing is what I made this tumblr for in the first place. Enjoy this unedited minifc!

--

The kiss catches him completely off guard. Dick's brain gets caught in a loop of What? No, wait, why? What? Wrong-wrong-wrong, for a beat too long, before he realizes he has hand and should be using them. Frantic action takes over from shocked stillness, and he pushes Tim away a little rougher than intended.

Dick opens his mouth to—he doesn't know. Apologize? Ask what the fuck that was? Just gape aimlessly? It doesn't matter; Tim speaks before he can:

“Sorry! Oh god. I'm sorry.”

Tim looks genuinely horrified at his own actions, hand hovering over his mouth unconsciously, and it's the push Dick needs to get ahold of himself. He needs to��he needs to cut this right off at the root. Whatever wrong impression he's given, whatever wires has been crosses, he needs to fix that shit right now.

“Tim...” he says, trying to figure out where to start.

“Sorry,” Tim says, breathing hard.

Dick feels his brow pinching, heartbeat much faster than reasonable for a completely danger-free scenario. “I'm...Shit. I'm—way older than you, and you're a kid.” Oh, great, just really patronize Tim away while he's at it. “Which I know no teenager wants to hear, but I...”

Tim shakes his head, slinking further back against the couch. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...”

Dick shakes his head slightly, trying to get this all out before it blows up. “I know you have a family and parents of your own, but when I call you my little brother, I really—I really do mean it.”

“I know that,” Tim says, looking down. “I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't even really—I don't even...I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that.”

The thing is, he seems completely honest about it. Completely distraught. Dick has...well, he's done stupid self-destructive stuff in all the wrong moments and not known why, but that was always predicated by something. Something he was dealing with really poorly.

A hands grips his heart before he breathes deep and forces it to release. There are still a million explanations; he doesn't know for sure that it's bad. It really could just be a kid with an inappropriate crush. Hell, Dick himself had a little hero-worship thing going on for about half the Justice League back when he was a tiny pre-teen in pixie boots.

Tim is pulling away, off the couch. “I'm sorry,” he says, stronger. “I should—I can go. I'm gonna go.”

Dick leans out to catch him on instinct, grabbing his hand. “Hey, wait, don't—”

Tim stops, but won't meet his eye. Dick scans over him carefully, lingering on those stark neck bruises for a moment, and tries to remind himself not to get worried when there might be nothing to worry about.

“What happened?” Dick asks, keeping his voice level. Tim glances up and away again. “I mean—” He swallows, trying to sort out a phrasing that implies the least. “Can you at least tell me what brought this on?”

“I don't know,” Tim mutters, rocking on his heels. It's such a guilty child's motion that Dick can't help but squeeze his hand. “I guess I just...thought you'd be nice about it.”

No, no, nonono.

“Be nice about what?” Dick asks softly, terrified he knows.

Tim glances up, exactly as ashamed and scared and desperate as Dick hoped he wouldn't be. Dick abruptly realizes he's still clutching onto Tim's hand, giving the kid no choice in the matter, and drops it, clearing his throat.

Okay. He's—If this is what he thinks it is, he knows how to do this. (And, god, he heard a million awful comments back when he was running Gotham's seedy streets, even as a kid, but he never thought anything would happen to Tim.) If this is that, Dick knows how to deal with victims, how to be calm but soft, ask without judgment. And if it's not, none of that can hurt. His back straightens on instinct.

“Can I hug you, or do you want space?” Dick asks.

Tim is in his arms almost before he's finished the question. Dick wraps him up immediately, tugging him closer onto the couch, practically in his lap. Tim would probably say he's too old for it, but Dick can't help but perpetually think of his little brother as younger than Dick ever was, even knowing that's far from the truth.

“I really am sorry,” Tim mumbles into his shoulder. “I didn't...mean it like that.”

“I know,” Dick says. He's wished so strongly he didn't, but it's worth it if he can use it to help Tim. They can do this. He's not going to let his brother deal alone. “I'm...I understand.” The words get caught in his throat, refusing to dislodge. Dick can't manage to say any of it more explicitly than, “I think I really, really do.”

He closes his eyes over Tim's hair, gentling rubbing his back. For a few minutes it's just that, and Dick lets himself get away with the delay on the thought that Tim needs it and they both deserve to calm down.

He still doesn't actually know, though. Dick is pretty sure he has the vague shape of it. The general category of what happened—or almost happened, if he's lucky, maybe just a scare—the ensuing feelings he knows far too well, the urge to reclaim it. But nothing has been said. He has to be sure he's not just projecting.

“I,” Dick starts, so, so slow and cautious, “I do think I still need you to tell me what happened, though. When you're ready. We can just sit here for now.”

“No, it's okay,” Tim says. His voice is a little hoarse, but when he draws back there are no tears in sight. Dick's heart aches for this too-strong kid. “It's...nothing. I'm handling it. I'm sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Tim...” Dick frowns.

Tim pulls away, returning to his seat on the couch. It's closer this time, though, one of Dick's arms lingering over his shoulder without a reach. His throat works hard a few times, drawing attention to those bruises. They're definitely finger-shaped. Dick has seen too many like that not to know.

He lifts a hand to examine them better, not thinking, and Tim—flinches. Hard, like Dick punched instead of barely brushed him. Dick's heart leaps in response.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“S'okay,” Tim says, though he's a little breathless himself.. “The—the bruise, y'know.”

Dick clenches his jaw at the blatant lie. “It wasn't the bruise, Tim.”

Tim shrinks in on himself, even his voice lowering. “It's just. You know...Batman stuff.” His eyes flick up, bright and desperate on Dick's. “I'm sure you dealt with the same kind of stuff when you were Robin.”

He doesn't react. He's so goddamn careful not to react because now is not the situation to be losing it, and not the person to be losing it in front of, and not the time to be losing it when, again, he doesn't actually know anything. Not for sure. Not really.

But Dick's heart slams against his rib cage and his brain lights up every siren.

That doesn't mean what he thinks it means. That does not mean what he thinks it means. It doesn't even—there's not even anything like this that Dick “dealt with” when he was Robin. He doesn't even know why his brain is going there. Sure, Bruce can be distant or cold or manipulative or, much as he hates to admit, on occasion selfish to the point of cruelty, but Dick doesn't have any actual reason to believe...

(Only...) Robin stuff. It's just Robin stuff, those million awful comments Dick heard and Tim must have too. But. Tim did say it was Batman stuff.

Dick takes one more very careful, very steady breath, before he allows himself to speak. He fights to make his voice perfectly even. “Tim, did Bruce...Has Bruce ever...?”

“No, it's not—He's—Bruce is fine,” Tim interrupts quickly.

Dick is hit by relief that he grabs onto with both hands, and then guilt that he refuses to examine.

“He's—” Tim continues. “He just wants to reconnect with Jason, so he's...”

Conflicting emotions come to a screeching halt at that. Okay. Turns out Dick really doesn't know apparently. “Jason?”

He heart does an entirely unrelated funny little twist over saying Jason's name. It's been so long, and thing changed completely while Dick wasn't even there. But somehow his first brother is back, even if Dick is yet to see it himself, and apparently...involved in this?

It's not a hard jump from there. The only time Dick knows of when Jason and Tim have ever interacted led to Tim's near-death at Titan's Tower.

“So Jason...” He puts a hand over his own throat in demonstration instead of indicating Tim's and risking another flinch.

“I mean, I—Both of them, technically...”

Dick's hand stills. There's a horrible weight in his gut, but only one other person has been mentioned this conversation and it's impossible to ignore. He can't muster up the energy for proper emotion when he asks, “Jason and Bruce both...hurt you?”

It takes a long moment, before Tim nods.

No. Dick scrubs over his face like he's chasing phantom tears. It's like he's simultaneously too emotional and too numb to actual conjure any. The block in his throat doesn't feel like crying; it just aches.

“But Bruce isn't usually...” Tim is saying, Dick unable to answer.

He twists away, towards the couch, elbows digging into the backrest and face shoving into his palms. What he really wants to do it hit something heavy and solid and painful, but this is best he can get without hurting himself in front of Tim. No.

That's it. Just no. No, not this. No, it's a mistake. No, he's wrong. No, no, no, Dick has misunderstood and made leaps where he shouldn't and put the pieces together in the wrong puzzle.

But Tim's neck is bruised by hands, and he kissed Dick because he thought Dick was safe and that's—

Dick is still a pretty good detective, even when he doesn't want to be.

It's the hardest word in the universe to force out, barely able to peak through his hands towards Tim. “Sexually?”

Tim nods.

Dick selfishly, horribly, stays quiet as Tim tries to course correct and near-pleads with him for validation. He can't. If he opens his mouth he might scream.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

House, M.D. Fanfic (11/?)

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to leave a note on my story.  I hope you continue to enjoy my kind of rewrite and/or additions to certain episodes! As always, I don't own House. If I did, Lisa Edelstein would have gotten the respect she deserved contact wise for a season 8.

As stated in previous chapters, the story follows the big picture laid out on the show, but with my own take on things. We have reached extremely bumpy road territory. Buckle up, folks. This one might sting a little.

Thanks to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie on Tumblr for reading my ideas and providing positive feedback! Anything in the way of feedback is always appreciated! I like to know how you like what I'm doing. Enjoy!

xxxxx

"How long have you been sleeping with Dr. House?" Tritter asked as he took a seat in her office.

Cuddy shook her head, shocked at the question. "Why would you think I'm sleeping with House?"

Tritter got that smug smirk he got when he thought he knew something. "Only reason a smart woman like you would keep a jerk like that around. You're way out of his league."

"The only reason a dean of medicine at a teaching hospital would keep a world renowned diagnostician around is because I'm sleeping with him?"

"You haven't denied it."

"I'm not sleeping with House," she crossed her arms.

"Dr. Cuddy. The guy is an ass. He treats patients like they aren't even human. How much has he cost your hospital over the years? How much has he cost you?" He asked. "I don't understand why you're protecting him."

"Dr. House saves lives... lives that other doctors can't save. If you were dying and no one else could figure out what was wrong with you, you'd want Dr. House to be the one on your case. I'm not sleeping with him. He's just that good," she stated a little more firmly, moving to open her office door to show him out. But his words had hit a nerve, asking what he'd cost her had hit a nerve. It stuck with her.

xxxxx

Later that night, House laid in her bed, one hand folded under his head, his fingers sliding over her bare back. "Heard Barnaby Jones came to talk to you today."

Cuddy breathed deeply, shifting so she could prop her head on her hand and look at him. "Detective Tritter came to accuse me of sleeping with you."

"You are sleeping with me." He turned his head to look at her.

"I lied to him. I told him I wasn't."

"Why?"

"Because sleeping with you would give him a reason to believe my judgement is compromised. It would imply that I'm hiding your drug problem. Or he would accuse me of enabling your habit."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Has sleeping with me affected your ability to practice medicine?"

"No."

"Has it compromised your ability to make professional calls where my patients or myself are concerned?"

"No, but..."

"Has your judgement been compromised? Have you been writing me scripts? Have I stolen your prescription pad? Have you been enabling my habit?"

"No..."

"Then what's the problem?" He shrugged.

"I lied to the cops!"

"You lied about sleeping with me. We've been lying to everyone else about that for months. Why are you suddenly growing a conscience about it?"

"I don't know, House, maybe because this guy has it out for you! Normally when you piss someone off, they just sue you. This guy actually has the power to get your medical license revoked and send you to jail for a long time!"

"That what you're afraid of? Don't worry, I can still place a bun in your oven. Or are conjugal visits not on your list of approved baby making fantasies?"

She sighed and moved away, turning her back to him. "Whatever you want to tell yourself, House." She was tired of fighting with him.

"You're mad at me."

"Because you're being an ass!"

"No more than usual." He thought for a moment. "This is you being hormonal..."

"I'm not pregnant, House!"

"Did you take another test?"

She sat up and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Yes! Yes, I took a damn test! I took a damn test every time you accused me of being pregnant, and guess what... still not pregnant! You weren't right!"

"This is you being upset that you're not pregnant..." he said slowly. "Look, it's only been a few months. It doesn't mean anything..."

"6 months, House. 6. It's not happening. It's not meant to happen."

"You're giving up?"

"Yes! I tried, and I failed to get pregnant. I'm done. I'm tired of trying and being disappointed. And this...arrangement..." she gestured between them, "isn't working anymore."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're ending this?"

She was quiet for a few moments. "I guess I am."

"Because I haven't gotten you pregnant? It takes most couples years to get pregnant, and you're giving up in 6 months?"

"Save it, House... you're just trying to protect your regular supply of free sex. Sorry, looks like it's back to hookers. I'm sure you've still got all their numbers."

"I don't care about the sex! I do care about you!" He was a little surprised those feelings had slipped out mid-argument. Judging by the look on her face, so was she. "Why are you so willing to give up on something that you've wanted for a long time just because it's a little hard getting there?"

She sighed softly. "Because you can't always get what you want."

"Yeah, quoting a song lyric... that's a real response," he countered. "And in case you forgot, it ends with 'You get what you need.'"

"Yeah...I'm not getting that either." She was quiet for another moment. "Goodnight, House."

xxxxx

House walked into his friend's office and sat down silently. "I've been sleeping with Cuddy," he said after several minutes.

The revelation caused Wilson to pause his reading, but he didn't look up, clearly not buying it. "House, hallucinations mean you've taken too much Vicodin."

House shook his head. "I'm not hallucinating. Cuddy and I have been having hot monkey sex."

Wilson just stared at him, trying to decide if it was true or not. "How... long has it been going on?"

"Several months. When she started fertility treatments before I was shot."

"Cuddy is taking fertility treatments?"

"Right... I didn't tell you about that either. Oops..." he stood and began to walk the office as he worked everything around in his head.

"You're trying to have a baby with Cuddy?"

He turned to look at Wilson then. "No. Cuddy is trying to have a baby with me. Weren't you listening?"

"It's the same result," Wilson leaned back in his chair then. "You've seriously been sleeping with Cuddy for months and haven't told me?"

"This isn't high school. Some of us keep our private lives private, Jimmy."

Wilson shook his head and stood up, walking over to him. "This isn't high school, but you are still in high school. If this was any other woman, you'd have bragged about it. The sheets were barely cold when you told me about Stacy. This is different. She's different." And then he realized, "You're protecting her."

"There was no protection. She wants a baby. Duh," he deflected with sarcasm.

"You're protecting her from you. You're first instinct would normally be to run and brag about sleeping with her. To use the fact that she's your boss to get your way here. And you haven't. You went against your first instinct in order to protect her. You care about her."

"I don't care about her. I'm only telling you now because it's over. She's giving up the fertility treatments. No fertility drugs, no hope for a baby, no need for the hot monkey sex," he spun his cane as he continued to think.

"You don't want it to be over. Because you care about her. She's probably the only other woman who can stand you, can handle you, and you don't want to lose her."

"Don't be ridiculous. I care about the sex. It's free... and really, really good."

Wilson studied him for a moment. "You fell in love with her, didn't you?" It was really more of a statement. His friend wouldn't be here now if all he cared about was having sex.

House stared out the window silently for several long minutes. "What do I do about it?" He turned to his friend then.

"Well, the obvious response is to tell her."

"I can't tell her I love her."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't love me."

"How do you know?"

"I just know!"

"Right, because when a woman wants a baby, her first instinct is to go to the man who's a complete jackass to her and ask him to sleep with her... for months. And you said it was going on before you were shot? So over five months."

"Six, actually," he corrected him. "What can I say,  she's got it bad for my genes."

"She's got it bad for you, House." When he didn't respond, Wilson pushed on. "Did you only have sex when she was ovulating?"

"Yes." He answered quickly. Heaving a sigh a moment later,  he continued. "At least in the beginning. Somewhere along the way the line blurred." House didn't even have to think about that. It had started that way, but the longer it went on, the more sex they had, whether or not it was time in her monthly cycle. And it wasn't just sex. There were nights when they literally slept together and nothing else.

"Then it's not just about a baby. She has feelings for you."

House sighed again. "She's the one who ended the arrangement."

"Probably because she thinks that's all you wanted and she's trying to keep herself from being hurt anymore than she already is."

"She should know that's not all it is."

"Why? Because you've told her?"

"Yes, okay?! Yes! I told her I didn't care about the sex, that I cared about her! And she still ended things!"

"When did you tell her?"

He sighed, rubbing his thumb across his forehead. "Somewhere between her telling me I would have to go back to hookers for sex and quoting the Rolling Stones 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' to me."

He shook his head with a laugh. "House, you're an idiot! She probably thinks you just said it in the heat of the moment to protect your supply of free sex. You're an addict, you've proven you'll say anything to get what you want in the past," he explained. He paused for a moment before continuing. "House, you don't exactly give off the warm and fuzzy vibe. More like the annoying, jackass vibe. Cuddy may be able to handle your particular brand of charm... she may even like it. But she can't read your mind. And a woman like Cuddy isn't going to make that leap unless she knows you're there to catch her. You've got to talk to her."

"I don't know if I can."

"Do you know if you can lose her? Because that's what's at stake here. You either talk to her, or it's over."

House breathed deeply, thinking it over before he left.

[lovehelpmewrite]

The People Who Love You [1]

A/N: This is very angsty, there's a lot of abuse!triggers, rape!triggers and the like. I was really in the mood to angst so yeah. Please enjoy at your own risk, triggers and angst ahead. Also, I didn't originally intend for it but its going to be 2 parts because tumblr only allows 100 blocks I guess... I don't know the word count because I'm on mobile, and I'm hoping my keep reading works but sorry if it doesn't. Its un-beta-d, and unedited and un-spell-checked, so all mistakes are mine. Anyways, read on.

"Yeah? Seriously? That's insane. Yeah. Yeah of course! Yeah I'll let him know. Thanks Sam. Yeah, you too. See you in a bit." I hung up the phone feeling happier than i'd been in a long while. Sam had called, asking for help on a werewolf out in Nevada. When he'd asked if I was still with Tyler I assumed thats who he really wanted on the case but I was excited to see them either way.

I walked out into the living room, seeing Tyler on the couch with a beer in hand. Out of reflex I grabbed another and set it next to his feet on the coffee table. He smiled in return.

"You're too good to me," he said, giving me he full attention for a few seconds before turning back to the TV.

"So, uh, Sam Winchester called. He and Dean have a case out in Nevada they wanted our help on. Werewolves. I told them we'd check it out, what do you think?" I asked quietly.

Tyler let out a deep sigh and I turned my eyes to the corner of the coffee table.

"I think," he paused, taking a drink of his beer, "that you should have asked before you went saying yes. And that I don't like those Winchesters, too fucking uptight, and Dean always stares at you." He threw an annoyed look my way before letting out another deep breath and finishing off his beer, getting ready to open the second.

"When do they want me?" He asked, tossing the metal cap onto the table. I watched as it skidded and slid of the edge onto the floor.

"ASAP. I told them we could be out there in a few days," I answered timidly.

Tyler let out another sigh of annoyance.

"Well, go back a bag, we'll leave tomorrow and I don't want to have to wait for your sorry ass to finish up."

I nodded and stood quickly, walking into the back bedroom and shutting the door softly. I let myself smile as I packed, enjoying the thought of seeing old friends again.

- - -

"Tyler, Y/N, good to see you," greeted Dean, pulling me in for a hug that made Tyler frown. Even so, I hugged Sam as well, enjoying their familiar embraces.

"So, where are you guys staying?" Sam asked, hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

"The Historian, on Gibson by the diner," I answered, unable to stop the smile on my face as I spoke.

This only seemed to annoy Tyler further. Quickly he drew an arm around my waist and pulled me to him.

"Yeah, she wanted to make sure we had a good view," he joked, Sam and Dean laughing as I cringed, remembering how upset Tyler was that the neon sign from the diner was visible through our window.

"You know me, only the best," I added.

Everyone laughed but I could feel Tyler's fingers on my ribs like knives.

- - -

"To a hunt well done," Dean toasted, plinking his beer bottle against mine and Sam's. We all drank and shared a small smile, me ignoring the fact that Tyler was dancing with some girl on the dance floor.

"I gotta ask," Sam said suddenly, after several tense moments. "What's with your boyfriend?"

I flicked my eyes momentarily at the girl grinding on him before turning on my stool to face solidly at the bar.

"He's just dancing, its fine," I said monotonely.

Sam and Dean shared a look.

I absent mindedly pulled my flannel sleeves down to cover the hand mark Tyler left from this morning, when I had taken too long to get ready so he gripped me by the elbow and shoved me at the door. My shoulder still stung but I could blame that on the werewolf at least.

"What thhe fuck?" Dean said suddenly. I looked at him oddly until he pointed out a still healing bruise on my sternum, visible with my shirt unbottoned. "What is that, Y/N?"

Nervously I shoved my shirt to the side so it wasnt visible anymore.

"Haven't you ever heard of a hickey, Dean?" I laughed anxiously, sipping my beer and hoping he'd let it go. He didnt.

"That's no hickey. Did he hurt you?" Dean asked seriously, his voice low.

"What?! No! He wouldn't! It... it was my fault. I was carrying the laundry basket and not watching where I was going and he accidentally bumped it into me a little hard. Its nothing," I shrugged it off.

It was from the laundry basket, from when he shoved it at me hard enough to leave a mark. "To remind me of my place," he said.

Sam and Dean just eyed me cautiously as Tyler came back from the dance floor.

"Hey babe, lets go, I'm beat," Tyler said.

I went to argue that i wanted to stay with Sam and Dean but I knew better than to speak out in public.

"Okay. See you guys later," I said, Tyler pulling me quickly away and out of the bar.

He yanked me out into the alley and shoved me against yhe grime covered bricks, pressing kisses to my neck and chest.

"Come on baby, lets do it right here," Tyler said, unbuttoning my flannel quickly.

"Ty, no, lets just go back to the motel," I said, gently pushing at his hands on my body.

"Come on, it'll be hot. You can scream for all the bar to hear," he continued, going for my jeans.

"Ty, I said no, stop it," I said more forcefully, shoving him off me.

He stood a foot away, bewildered for a moment while blood rushed in my ears. Suddenly his hand came fast and heavy against my cheek, knocking my head to the side. I held it in shock as it heated up. Tyler seemed to be gauging my reaction to it which was fear.

He sprung forward again and spun me around, pressing my shoulders against the cold brick as he undid my jeans.

"When I say I want to fuck you, I mean it you dumb prude bitch," he growled against my hair.

I stood, helplessly pressed against the bricks as he yanked my jeans and underwear down and pulled my hips back.

The only indication I gave that I felt him was the shutter as he slid into me. My whole body was numb, the slight rocking the only thing keeping me grounded.

When he was done, he came onto the ground and pushed my hips forward in disgust, making me stumble into the wall.

"Come back when you're ready to be an obedient whore," he spat, pulling up his jeans and walking away.

I felt the shake in my hands as I slowly pulled up my underwear and struggled to button my jeans. I let myself lean against the wall a moment, pressing cold hands over my eyes and smearing tears I didn't know I was making.

I sucked in a deep breath, cleared my face and stared dead ahead. Just another day.

- - -

I realized quickly I didn't want to go back to him so soon. I didn't want to seem that desperate for him. In a spur of the moment I walked to Sam and Dean's motel room, knocking on the door before I remember deciding to. Sam answered.

"Y/N? Whats up?" He asked, voice gentle and slightly tired.

"Hey, sorry to bother you guys, me and Tyler had a little fight so I just wanted to shower here for tonight if thats okay?" I asked timidly.

"Yeah! Yeah sure, whatever you need," Sam replied, letting me in immediately.

Dean was sat up on the bed reading something when he looked up and smiled at me.

"Hey, what're you doing here?" He asked, closing the book to give me his full attention.

"Just need a shower, me and Tyler had a fight," I explained. Dean grinned.

"Finally. You should really dump that douche bag," he commented, standing and walking over to his duffle bag.

"No... we just need ti work some stuff out. I dont know where i'd be without him, he's such a better hunter than me," I said absently, not thinking twice about the words coming out of my mouth.

Sam snorted behind me, Dean sniggered.

"Sure, okay Y/N," Dean said sarcastically.

"Really, I would have died on half my hunts if he hadn't been there," I tried, more to convince myself than them.

"You're ten times the hunter he is, he can barely shoot a sawed-off. But whatever you say, sweetheart. Enjoy your shower," Dean grinned, handing me one of his shirts and a pair of boxers.

As I stood under the steaming hot water and scrubbed my skin raw, I replayed what the boys had said. How could I possibly be a better hunter than him? All he talks about is how much easier it would be for him to do his job if I wasnt around.

I shook off the thought and went back to scrubbing at my thighs viciously.

- - -

I walked out in Dean's oversize Metallica shirt, picking at one of my cuticles, mulling over my options very carefully.

"He hits me sometimes," I mumble, watching Sam and Dean scrunch up their eyebrows before looking at me.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something, sweetheart?"

I turned my eyes up, forcing myself to back eye contact.

"He hits me sometimes," I said again.

I watched as Dean's jaw set and Sam's face turned to stone.

"Not often. I mean, not really anyways. Sometimes its worse than others, especially if he's been drinking," I said, finishing the sentance looking at the ratty carpeting as the nights memories came back.

"Its usually my fault anyways, I take too long, or I forget the laundry, or I get him the wrong beer," I added, trying to justify it in my head again. My face scrunched up as his words came at me as they always do.

"You'd be nothing without me. A dead whore in a ditch somewhere. You're lucky I'm here to teach you."

"He's dead," Dean said simply.

I jumped forward quickly.

"No, dont!" I said, gripping his arm tightly as he stood. "Its fine, I can handle it," I added.

Dean's hand came slowly up to my face and I winced as his fingers ran over the spot where Tyler had slapped me.

"You dont have to," Dean said quietly.

"I love him," I replied, eyes closed. Dean let out a slow breath and stepped back from me.

"Then you better get back to him," he said sharply.

"Dean," Sam interjected, eyebrows creased in disapproval.

"No, if she loves him she can head back to his room, and when he hits her again we'll come pick her up because thats what people who love you do," Dean spoke, eyes sharp and jaw set.

I stared at him a moment longer, my throat tight before I slowly grabbed my things and opened the door. I gave one last glance to Sam whose eyes were wet with unshed tears.

I shut the door behind me and let a few tears of my own fall before I made my way back to Tyler.

- - -

I woke up to the sound of beeping next to my head and throbbing in my ribs. I groaned as I turned my head, my neck stiff and sore as well.

As I looked around at the pale green walls and the bright florescent lights, I recognized the beeping as an EKG.

I panicked, trying desperately to sit up and pull out my IV's until a nurse came in.

"Sweetie, you need to relax, you're pretty banged up," she spoke, gently pushing my shoulder back and readjusting the IV tube on my arm.

I tried to relax, looking up to the ceiling and taking deep breaths to try and stop the tears burning in my eyes.

"Good news is your boyfriend's here, said he was worried when he found out you fell down those stairs. I'll send him up," the nurse spoke kindly, patting my hand before walking out and closing the door behind her.

My throat closed up painfully, tears falling back into my hairline as I thought about Tyler seeing me after what he'd done last night.

[thewishingcap]

Hello. I noticed in the section titled "about fleets" that you are an INTJ. I am an INTP and I'm interested in what it's really like to be an INTJ, since of course the stereotypes aren't very accurate and the testing sites don't always get the full picture. Also, if you can, could you please list what you think the types would be for the characters you write about (besides Vaati)

Hi there anon!

(this… this turned out to be super long. I’m self absorbed apparently. aha)

Hmmm. What it’s like to be me huh. I’ve taken the test at least 5 times spread out across years and I’ve always only scored INTJ and agree with a lot of the descriptions haha. It uh… it kind of makes me sound like an ass. And I guess I am, and I’ve said that before, but I got comments telling me people didn’t believe me. But I’m an ass, and, well, more on that on the last few paragraphs but first: 

I think the part that struck me the most when reading the descriptions of INTJ was that we don’t think things are impossible. Nothing is impossible to achieve, though some things might be difficult. It’s not straight up idealism, just… I guess a sort of arrogant logical truth. If I can’t achieve something, it’s because I was lazy, or didn’t think the effort to get there is worth the result (like, if I really wanted to be an astronaut I could find some way to do it. Going to space sounds totally cool, but would I actually expend effort in it? Well, no, given that my baseline capability, my financial situation, and my mental health among other things… i wouldn’t be able to reasonably handle it. But possible? With enough time? Absolutely. Or I want to be a pro basketball player even though I don’t have the height for it? Will it be hard to succeed? Well hells yeah I’m starting with a disadvantage that I have no control over that other people don’t have to deal with. But impossible? Not if I try hard enough and take advantage of every advantage I could possibly find). 

… not saying people should agree with me on the above, but that’s just my approach to life in general and served me well so far. 

I guess the most important idea to me is that, if I’m not doing something, it’s not because of some outside forces that I wasn’t able to do it. It’s because I actively chose not to do it. It brings the responsibility of both my successes and failures onto me, alone, and even if it sucks sometimes I like the concept. 

And telling me I can’t do something is absolutely the way to get me to think of a way to do that very thing. 

I like rules. I like logic. I don’t like making situational rules that have no basis of fairness. I enjoy seemingly illogical contradictions that still, on some level, follow some kind of rule (even random-seeming characters that I write still have their own personal rules that make sense to them). I also like situations with loopholes that aren’t explicitly covered in the rules (kind of going back to point 1… sometimes solutions are there if you’re creative enough or a dick enough to find them. Does it seem fair? Not always. Is it fair? Absolutely, according to the rules, and I expect the rest to adhere to the same kind of dickery because it’s equally available to all, not just myself). 

Also I don’t do social. At least, I only do it on my own terms. Invite me to a party I hadn’t planned, and I’ll probably bail. I almost always have some kind of schedule on when I’m doing what, and for how long, and I tend to plan this days or even weeks in advance (and because these don’t include social hangouts, usually, unless I was the one to plan it, accepting these invitations tend to give me more stress than anything). Another thing I agree with the profiling: I’m unapologetically blunt, to both strangers and friends alike, if they do something I’m not fly with. People might get butthurt but they know where I stand.

One thing I disagree with on most of the descriptions from INTJ tests is that they often say INTJs ‘think carefully before they speak,’ or ‘are intelligent,’ or ‘present carefully constructed thought out answers to questions.’ I don’t see myself as any of these things. I usually say the first dum thing that comes to my head. 

Last… I’m highly critical, of myself and, I hate to say it, of others. Most folks on tumblr see my self-critical side, since I often lament about stuff I could have done better and my uh… cringe… regarding the stories I wrote that I once thought was passable. I can’t honestly let myself say “I love what I did, it’s perfect and great,” because I can always think of something I could have done better? But I don’t say this in any negative way, just… recognizing it as truth by logic, and self reflection so I can do even better the next time. 

I adhere to others’ works with the same critical eye, which tends to bite me in the butt. Usually if no one personally asks me for help on improvement, I’ll leave it alone. They’re having fun and having a good time, I won’t ruin that: I know my own self-critique is always on High Mode that’s probably not reasonable and maybe a little too harsh, and even if I welcome that myself not everyone does. All of what I said so far, above, I only hold myself to unless…

If they ask for help…? If they lament that they want their situation to change? That’s when I’ll bring that criticism mode on high, what I have set for myself. And… sometimes people are shocked my critique went from 0 to 100 in under 2 seconds. Case in point, had a student who wrote really good assignments for the level of the class. Good grammar, good ideas, thoughtfully written etc. The class wasn’t particularly hard, and it was a first year class so it was more about giving students the confidence to move forward, and while I wrote some comments about improvement here and there, I didn’t ink the entire page red. That scares them. And it’s unnecessary inking for such a small assignment.Same student asked me to proof her personal essay for an application. Now, I knew this application was extremely important, and also part of a very difficult admissions process to which I knew the major folks who would be making the decisions. She asked my help, I want her to succeed, I know how to get her to succeed because by now I know the ins and outs of the admission committee. What do I do? I ink the entire essay top to bottom in red, everything I could possibly think of that could improve. 

She didn’t take that well at all, and probably expected a review that had been more or less what I’d given on the class assignments (but, to me, a 15 minute 1 page weekly assignment is not on the same scale as a 5+ hour 2 page admissions essay). Didn’t bother fixing what I suggested she fix, and what do you know she doesn’t get admitted, and she sends me back an email saying she doesn’t know how she possibly couldn’t have been admitted when she had straight As and good rec letters. Seeing people fail when they could have succeeded, especially when they didn’t do everything I feel they could have done to elevate their chances of success… and they still complain about their situation after the fact 

And that’s why I’m an ass. I had a friend describe me saying that I have a problem with putting myself and others on a “pedestal of perfection.” I’m chill on a lot of things, but that’s only because I don’t find a lot of things important to me. If I look like I’m chill about something, that’s probably why - I just can’t be bothered to try my very best bc it’s not very high on my own scale of importance (also p chill towards others’ shenanigans unless i have a personal stake in whatever it is they’re doin’). In line with that, I’m good at admitting and accepting losses. I tend to make a hierarchy of things that are important, and I’ll let go of the ones on the bottom of my list even if there’s an initial sting to do so. I’ll get over it. 

I’m all about efficiency. Expending the least effort for maximum payout.

The few things that are important, I have zero chill (group projects I have zero chill), and will unintentionally drag people down to my own personal hell of zero-chill when that was never what they wanted. My hyperfocus is real and you can sometimes see it when I post 5 chapter updates in the span of 5 days >_>;;;

ahahaaaa sorry this got out of control anon. When you say characters aside from Vaati, were you thinking of OCs or other characters I’ve written in stories, or my opinion on canon characters in general?